This is the second chapter of a story I thought very surely I wouldn't continue. But I have. Hopefully that pleases The Reader.

My warnings are the same. This is M. If you're offended by vivid imagery of blood and death, cussing, or any other such fun stuff then don't read this.

Disclaimer too, of course. I don't own bleach nor do I own Subway. That qualifies to the chain restaurant and the smelly form of transportation.

And for the second time:

Here we go.


Love Washed

Chapter 1


A lightly lit room was conjured into the mind of the man on the soaking street. It was painted a blue pastel, the ceiling slightly darker. The hard wood paneled floors took host to a dresser of mahogany with a TV and computer sitting atop it. A guitar laid strewn casually in its case against a folding door closet halfway open. The light illuminated what could have been living space in the closet, but shadows hid the answer. Under a wide window with green curtains, a bed stood against the floor. It was modest, a twin at best. The bed and its blue covers were in a state of chaos as the orange hair of a man barely exited the sheets.

The other window was half open, with a woman half out of it. Her black robe covered all but her face and hands. A menacing blade strapped to her side. The dark raven hair twirled as she looked over to the sleeping man. The light from the window accentuating his already blazing hair. A slight smile dancing upon her pink lips. The room, the sky, she was so peaceful. She turned her head towards the red line of the horizon as she made to exit the window.

The sheets did nothing to calm the internal struggle of his heart beating faster and faster. The bed camped man wasn't asleep; merely pretending to be. He'd say something this time before she left. No more easy outs, no more tomorrows. See a chance and take it. His mouth twitched several times, begging sweet or romantic words to come out of them. All that resulted was a barely audible choking noise. The girl had both feet on the windowsill and the man said literally the first thing that popped into his mind.

"Uhh, Rukia! The man is supposed to skip out afterward, not the girl." It was at this point he came to the full realization that Ishida was right. He was indeed an idiot. The orange haired man sat up a tad, the sheet pooling down to his waist and topped off his farce by patting the pillow next to him with an awkward smile. "C'mon, come back to bed. It's still warm."

"What?" The only thing more red than her blush was her anger as she jumped from the sill to the cramped space of his room. She looked scandalized as her eyes drifted down to her sword almost as if deciding if she should draw it. To the man's obvious displeasure she opted for words instead. "Couple things escaped your notice, idiot. For one, I live in your closet, so the bed isn't warm because of me being in it, or doing anything in it as you seem to like to think, Ichigo." the woman positively spat the name at the visually frightened still as stone man wishing he'd said nothing instead of implying that she had sex with him in the night and is now attempting to escape in some sort of weird cliché romantic comedy.

Rukia didn't let up. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" To Ichigo, Rukia looked positively steaming. And steamy as he adored the way she held herself and acted all tough when she was angry. No time for lingering on the raven hair in cute tussles ending past her shoulders, though. Nope, no time at all for the violet eyes that made him both strong at the heart and weak at the knees simultaneously. They nicely emboldened her skin. He shook his head of thoughts that'd just get him in even more trouble. He smirked at his hopelessness when it came to Rukia.

His mind was made up. He decided to go with a different approach then that of a frightened child being scolded. He adopted and airy smile and stretched casually on the bed noticing the raven haired girl's eyes linger on his muscles. She lingered too long and unbeknownst to Ichigo she was mentally berating herself as-

"Are you checking me out, Rukia?" Ichigo cajoled with his signature smirk. Her face turned three shades of red, and Ichigo's expression softened as she turned away, not wanting to embarrass herself in front of him. For a moment he just took her in. The petite girl leaning out his window, participating in their usual banter. As his amber brown eyes looked at her, emotions stirred within him. Ones he thought better left uninvestigated. But his heart always had a thing for cold cases. It opened a few pages and Ichigo remembered the contents.

Their first meeting with the hollow and the sword. The promise and the beginning of something, many things actually. Power, bravery, duty, responsibility, laughter, fun, friendship, more than fre- He stopped himself as he felt a cold hand grasp his train of thought. In his mind he heard the faint sound of a horse neighing. Almost like an equine cackle. He tried to steel himself from the emotions, the memories he shared with the slight Shinigami. A flash of fire got through his mind's mechanisms; that flash taking the form of a phoenix. The Soukyoku bearing down on Rukia threatening to burn her away. Just as quickly though the image vanished replaced by the devil blue of a white robed man's hair. His hand pushing itself through Rukia's body squeezing life where Grimmjow believed didn't belong. That too faded as dozens of other painful scenes ran a merry go 'round of terror in his head.

They all shared something in common. He wasn't able to protect Rukia; she always ended up getting hurt. What entitlement did he have to feel this way. He didn't deserve her and he didn't think he ever would. But he couldn't close the case no matter how cold things got. His heart ran warmth for her; the inspiration for getting stronger was always to be able to protect those we cared about. And another reason, if he became strong enough, good enough, maybe he'd deserve her.

But maybe that didn't matter anymore. Ichigo's head was getting caught in jumbles with his confused emotions. His head hurt and he blinked. He finally started taking in reality again.

Suppressing a slight blush, Rukia turned around back towards the window. "Nothing on this or any other plane of existence could ever make me 'check you out'. And I'm not skipping out either, I have a mission. I received word from the Captain an hour ago." Rukia could hardly keep the pride out of her voice as she smiled at her orange haired roommate.

His riddled emotions took a back seat now and Ichigo's reaction was quite different from hers, his disposition turning serious almost immediately. "Is it dangerous? I could come with you. Ten seconds." he said while struggling with the sheet covers in a futile attempt to extract himself from the bed. It was futile because he ended up falling flat on his face. The sheets were silently cheering or it would seem that way to anyone who could hear the muffled cries of victory. Hidden, a lion plushy fist pumped.

Rukia's melodic laughter erupted at Ichigo's blunder. He picked himself up and couldn't help his face being plastered with a genuine smile. He loved the way she laughed. So carefree and loud, so reckless and fluid.

"Ichigo," Rukia began, "I don't need a babysitter for my missions. Even one as...coordinated as you." She bust out laughing anew, holding her sides. Her eyes were wet and squinted in hysteria as she feebly pointed at him with a spare finger. Ichigo was finally getting agitated by her mocking.

"That wasn't even funny, you freak! Stop laughing at me!"

"I know you're strong carrot but I am a Shinigami-" a mischievous smile lit her face. "Not just a cute girl you like to fantasize about." She stopped for a moment. "Maybe that's why your bed is warm? Hmm." She turned her raven head to the sky and pretended to ponder it and shake her hips from side to side in a teasing fashion as Ichigo sputtered in outrage.

"I, I d-do not! Ya damn midget! Don't say shit like that! You're hardly even good looking!" Ichigo crossed his arms, satisfied with his sixth grade insults. He pointed his head in the other direction, one eye still looking from the side at Rukia's methodical rhythm with her hips.

The raven tressed girl stopped her repetitive motion and her face turned downwards. Her tresses obscuring her face and her hands played nervous gestures with themselves as something wet and small hit the ground from the direction of her colorful eyes. Stepping down from her perch on the windowsill she slowly approached Ichigo. Emotion ran obstinate and finally cracked in her voice.

"You really don't think I'm pretty?" Rukia said with such sincerity Ichigo's heart froze in panic, thinking his obvious lie had upset her.

"No. Rukia, I didn't mean it. I was kidd-" He held her shoulders.

"Yeah, so was I, stupid carrot. You're even easier to fool than Renji." Rukia raised her face, revealing a beaming smile.

"Fuckin' midget!"

Simultaneously, they both started laughing. For Ichigo it was a rare occurrence, before Rukia he hadn't laughed since his mother passed away.

Rukia's laughing quelled after a while, but kept the smile Ichigo was partial to. "You know I have to go..." She danced on her feet for a moment, sickened by how school girlish she was acting. New Rule: Control yourself around Ichigo. Looking one last time at his amber eyes, Rukia turned back towards the window.

Ichigo felt his heart tighten inside his chest smacking him with the cold case repeatedly begging for him to solve the mystery of "Ummm. Do I like her?" It wasn't that he couldn't figure it out; more his refusing to look at any evidence. The way he smiled when she looked up at the sky or asked what 'Subway' was. The intensity and sacrifice he'd go through to protect her. The fact he'd lay down his life to keep that gorgeous woman happy. Because she was gorgeous and she was everything to him. From the beginning to the end she was his light. His guide, his determination, and his love.

He decided it was time to stop running from it. He was undoubtedly, inexcusably, love washed.

Ichigo hesitated for only a second, then grabbed her wrist. Rukia had a sharp intake of breath as she was being pulled closer to Ichigo. He felt the smooth skin of her arm and pressed her against him, the scent of her enveloping his senses. He craned his neck downward and looked into her violet eyes. Without another moments thought he pressed his lips against the warm skin of her cheek and lightly kissed it. His lips parted and he moved casually to her ear, smirking at the excited tremble he could feel on her skin.

Ichigo whispered into her ear, "Be careful."

Rukia's head pounded with emotion and she thought bitterly good job controlling yourself.


The orange haired Shinigami substitute picked himself up from the cold street, his clothing sobbing and his mind throbbing. That memory, the kiss, the feelings, the goodbye ripped and cut at him like a fresh would leaking blood. Every word was a drop and every step was a breath.

The sky was overcast, obscured by the deep, throbbing black masses that were clouds. They enveloped the old expanse of blue blotting out light. Karakura town was dim. It was also empty. A great deluge had opened in the black sky, marking inhabitance in the town utterly unsafe. The people were gone, and the buildings stood slowly eroding in the now five day storm. Everything around looked bleak and forgotten.

The city was dying. The rain must stop. More specifically, the cause behind it. And even more importantly he had to find her. Karakura town could become the next Atlantis for all he cared. He needed to find her.

Beneath the sounds of thunder and deep azure rain hitting concrete, a singular sound could be heard. A unique sound considering the last bus of populous had left a day ago. It was the sound of a man breathing heavily, running through the rain washed streets.

The deep rain plastered his orange, spiky locks to his face. The boom of thunder had all but deadened his ears. The toll of running this long and this hard was physically exhausting, especially in the current environment. But he couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop. A memory of her seared through his mind, and he fell to his knees, yelling obscenities at the sky. The black shihakusho he was wearing felt heavy with absorbed water. He got back up, again running through the streets with unrivaled determination.

Instinct led his trail, he had lost her spiritual pressure ten minutes ago. Not that it mattered, he was terrible at reading it anyway. If not for this immense feeling of her, he'd be lost in the flooded streets. His sandals pattered against the shallow areas as he continued his mad dash.

Guilt devoured Ichigo as he raced to find Rukia. He should've come with. He could still feel her cheek on his lips. That kiss had been five days ago. The same day the rain started. But it wasn't rain at this moment, it was a dark reminder of his failure. Shame hurried his steps.

All the reporters and meteorologists were baffled by the occurrence. No one had come forth with a logical answer to the flood. No one could find a solution to deter it, either. The inhabitance had been forced to evacuate, Ichigo himself even left.

He was sleeping the very night in an outlaying motel not long ago, and he woke feeling the spike in her spiritual pressure to dangerously high levels. Her limiter was clearly gone. Then he felt her pressure dwindle to nothing. Nothing. If she had won the fight, she'd still be covered in some. Even if the fight was consuming, her pressure would still remain in remnants. It was this that forced him to come after her.

The incredible wind blew the hem of Ichigo's black garment behind him as he curved from one side alley to an open road. Rukia was here. Somewhere. And in trouble. Ichigo kept his pace a tumult as he thought sarcastically, she most certainly does need a baby sitter.

He was right! Damnit, he was fucking right! That thought was his own as he remembered the inhibitions about deserving her and letting a spark of love ignite. Here it is again him letting her slip through his fingers. Worry nulled his senses and the visage of her dead, of him being too late was more punishing than the rocket boom of thunder. His history with her was full of such occurrences. Starting from Byakuya laying him low and taking her back to Soul Society. To be executed. He had barely rescued her before another threat emerged. A devilish captain by the name of Aizen had abandoned the Thirteen and waged a war of deadly significance. His espada had terrorized and killed. The image of a blue-haired Grimmjow as he easily slashed down Rukia lit his imagination. He saw that one playing every night and before every decision. He mentally cringed.

Rukia was the one person his new life stemmed from. She had given him the power to protect, and he was wielding it ineptly. He'd never forgive himself if he found her dead, or too late to save. He needed a more exact location on her.

He got it.

The heavens recoiled with fear as a monumental pressure shifted its weight into the sky, challenging the very forces of nature.

Ichigo was rocked to his core. He couldn't breath, he couldn't think. The pressure was suffocating, but a singular thought did escape. That's where Rukia is.

His face a grimace, he overcame and ran his flash step to the source. The storm was deadly, and it was dissipating the pressure that was unlike anything he'd ever encountered before. It was unlike any Soul Reaper or Arrancar. Nor was it Bount or have any similarities with the subtle force of a Quincy. The only thing he could tell was it was dark. Forcefully violent and arrogant. Aizen again leapt to his mind, but the fear was replaced with reason. Aizen was dead, snuffed by Getsuga. His espada were also dead and gone, laid to nothing but memory by the Reaper Elite. The battle resulted in his dwindled spiritual presence. It'll only be a matter of time before he's left only with a horse to ride on.

Releasing his own pressure to hurry his flash step, his face paled.

Feeling even the small amount of pressure, he knew it closely resembled in dynamic the much heavier force battling the sky. Is it a Vizard? No, the pressure was different from that of Hirako's and his gang.

And so was his. Every time the sky was rebuffed he heard something. A screaming pierce of aggression. Inside the two intermingling forces that was scourging Heaven he identified two distinct sources.

A horse and it's rider.

Ichigo felt his pulse quicken as he thought he was getting ever closer to both saving Rukia and tearing away the veil from his fragmented origin. What was he? In control, or controlled.

The dissipating pressure consumed the tower of steel and iron that loomed before him, the dark sky and rain making it look more like a fortress than an up scale apartment building. Although Ichigo knew the building was for the posh and pampered, he couldn't see it now. The building was dilapidated and decrepit, as if an earthquake had smashed its former glory to nothing but congealed revoltion. The glass was shattered, and the concrete was cracking with crystalline ice. The steel in the building was bent at awkward angles, the building would fall due to stress or the storm soon.

It was too risky to flash into the building and get blindsided. Usually he wouldn't mind, but Rukia was in there. He didn't need to spook something with that kind of power. Spying through the open windows, he searched for an opening. Second floor: hallway, easily accessible. Third, a couple of empty and collapsed rooms. Fourth...his head pounded, and he froze in joy...and then terror.

A raven haired women lay before a man enveloped in shadows. They were like marionettes to his fingers, receding and encroaching seemingly based on his whims. The wall behind her was covered in deep color. Blood. Rukia's face was pale due to blood loss and apparent trauma to her abdomen. Her body was bare for the man cloaked in darkness to see...and touch.

Ichigo's happiness at finding Rukia alive, albeit mortally injured, dissolved as he saw the figure lean in and whisper to her. That lasted only a second as he then stole a kiss from her dying lips.

One second of calm.

The furthest wall of the apartment exploded in blue force and Ichigo's humming blade cut into the atmosphere exactly what he was thinking.

Fuck precaution.


I really do have the nastiest habit of leaving cliffs in the road of narrative. It's not that I hope you trip and fall, well yes it is, if you're falling in love with my writing. I love fans.

Anyway, this was a bit wordy, I know... I tried to capture Ichigo's essence while also making it plausible that he would actually kiss Rukia. I don't think I did the best job of it but I can guarantee I'm much more proud of my realism when it comes to blood and combat. Stick around, review, help me make sure writing this is worth my time. If It's not I'll try something The Reader might like more. Oh. And does anyone have thoughts on if I should use an existing language for my terminology (names, attacks, abilities, swords) or just make up my own?

'Til the next

~CS