A/N: Thank you for the reviews. I appreciate them all, and yes we authors have a habit of doing it. I hope Chapter 2 is as pleasing as the prologue. Please, leave all constructive criticisms and thoughts in a review.

Disclaimer: Tite Kubo owns Bleach. I am only a fan who loves IchiRuki too much for her own good.

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Masaki had sensed the approaching danger before it happened.

She had been watching Ichigo playing in his floaters not too far off from where she was on the beach. There could've been a scent in the air, or a sign, but she admitted to herself afterwards that was not the case. She felt something wrong, off about the day, and because she couldn't exactly pinpoint it, she brushed if off as mere inconvenience.

Then she saw the tide coming in.

Instincts turned into action, and she raced out to sea when Ichigo was pulled away by the sea. Her husband and many others told it was suicide to go out there. It didn't make sense for her daughters to be motherless as well. Their words fell on deaf ears; Masaki was made of pure conviction. Her conviction was to save her only son and firstborn, and she dared anyone to try and stop her.

In the rush, Ichigo was separated from his Akita, Kon. His floaters were destroyed by the intense currents; his small body fought to stay afloat, but it was no use. The pressure of the sea managed to subdue him, and his last act before he lost conscious was reaching out to the light of the sun. Everything else was just a black blur.

They still needed their mother, they said. You should leave it to the coast guards, they said. Think of your daughters, they're not even three yet, they said. None of it made sense to her, and in instances such as that never did.

"Ichigo still needs his mother."

Isshin was worried, but his body was not equipped to handle the waves. His love for his wife was great, but his love for son was equal to that. If Masaki was capable of bringing him back, and he knew she was, he would let her do it. Besides, there was no way to stop her anyways. Once her mind was made up, there was no turning back.

"Trust me. I can do it."

"I know you can."

She dove into the warm water. It had been years, not too long but not enough, since she swam so recklessly. She could feel the muscles in her legs and arms tightening; the strenuous activity was making itself known. Keeping her mouth tightly shut, seawater splashed into her face, obscuring her view. She remembered exactly where Ichigo was when he was pulled in; she was going to make it to him.

"She'll never make it, those poor children."

Doubt and uncertainty would be her ruin if she permitted them to be. She ignored the harsh comments from the others on the shore. If she allowed them to get to her, her body would wind down and her mind would lose focus. She and Ichigo would both be doomed. Twinges of soreness swam through her body, legs and arms primarily, but that too had to be ignored. Any sign of doubt, pain, or conflicting had to be ignored.

She made it to the last place he was seen. She called out his name several times; when she didn't get a reply it confirmed her worst fears. He had been pulled under, deeply. Without a second thought, Masaki sucked in her breath and plunged into the depths of the water, determined to pull Ichigo out.

Terror plagued her, but she told herself that was okay. It was expected; after all, she was a mother. Her son had been ripped from her by uncontrollable forces, and once again she willing to fight those very forces.

Attempt number one was a failure. She didn't see him and had to return to the top.

Attempt number two was better. Holding her breath longer and diving deeper, her eyes shined with relief when she spotted his orange patch of hair. Her mistake was opening her mouth in excitement, and she had to return again.

She didn't stay for long.

Immediately, she dove for her third and final try.

Move fast, Masaki. Don't go up.

He was sinking fast, too fast. A piece of his floater floated to the surface, but it passed by her without making itself known. She forced her body beyond its limits, biting off the bitter taste of the sea as it swept through the cracks in her mouth. Ignoring the rancid taste, her hand stretched closer to his orange hair, the tip of her fingers touching the ends of his hair. She cursed herself for not getting it the first time, but she didn't stop from there. She was close, so close to him.

Ichigo…

The feeling her heart was experiencing was not fear nor was it relief. It wasn't a bad feeling, but it wasn't a good feeling either. Her hand grabbed a fistful of his hair, and she tugged on it fiercely. Panic rose in her when he didn't respond to the contact, but first things were first. She had to get him to shore and make sure that he wasn't alive.

She ignored the harsh comments, the pain, and the doubt. This feeling, whatever it was, she would ignore as well, for Ichigo's sake.

Isshin went into action when Masaki made it to shore with Ichigo's limp body in her arms. His voice echoed on the silent beach as he hollered at the crowd to give them space, let his wife do her work.

Ichigo wasn't breathing. His small chest didn't rise and fall as it should have.

She sensed the amazement radiating from the crowd, but she could also feel the pity as well. It was almost telling, "So close. She didn't make it in time."

Again, they were ignored.

Tearing off the remains of his floaters and laying him on his back on the sand, she immediately started to do CPR.

She didn't believe time could stand still for so long as it did on that day. Exactly five minutes it had taken her, maybe even less, to get Ichigo's heart beating again. She was frantic at that point, not seeing his chest rising and falling did that to her; her mask of determination and deny the inevitable prevented anyone from knowing her panic. Pushing back her fear, Masaki continued on. One. Two. Three. Pump. One. Two. Three. Breathe. She couldn't give up; giving up was not part of the equation.

"Ichigo?"

How long had it been? Was she too late? Water flew from his mouth onto her face in a reaction so quick, so fluid, that she didn't know what to do with herself. Emotions were flooding through her, and when she saw those big, beautiful amber eyes her eyes swelled up with tears. She grabbed for him in a deep embrace, and while the cheering of the crowd was nice, hearing and feeling the sound of his heartbeat was even better.

"Oh Ichigo, I am so happy."

"Mom," he coughed, "Mom, Mom, why are you crying?"

"Don't worry about me Ichigo. I'm just glad that you're safe."

"Mom…"

Are you okay?

"Mom…"

You're lucky you know.

"Mom?"

You could have drowned.

He was wet. It was the first thing to register in his brain when his eyes shot open. He ignored the dulling discomfort around the rims; instead, he focused on the condition of his body. He was incredibly wet, drenched, soaked, and dripping. From the top of his strawberry blond hair to the tip of his cut toenails, he was drenched in water. Licking his lips, he could taste the bitterness of salt, signaling it was not filtered water he was drenched in. Slowly, he breathed, his body finally taking over the strange situation. His chest rising and falling at a much steadier rate, his eyes peered off into the distance; he could see stars. Above the stars he could see dark, and inside the dark, among the stars, he could see a white orb of light, the moon.

Sense after sense was returning to him. His fingers dug into material that was soft, mushy. It was dense but not heavy in any way. It was smooth when pressed but it held a crunchy, nearly rough texture. Raising his hand, Ichigo forced his eyes to focus on the material in his hands. He rubbed it with his index finger and opened his palm. The light was not direct; he could see pieces falling to the ground, and his mind registered-sand.

He pushed his body up. Sand. His eyes stretched as he came face to face with a rising tide. Water pushed in, going so close it nearly touched the end of his toes, but it wasn't close enough. It was pulled back from where it came, and then it repeated its process again and again. Overhead, the moon was reflected on the waves. It was a rippled replica of itself in comparison to its straight and clear form. Carefully, he removed his eyesight from the glow of the water moon and onto his sides. He was searching for his belongings, and an outlandish flood of relief came to him when he saw that his belongings were indeed on the shore as well.

The muscles in his body were sore; when he finally pushed his body upwards onto his feet, he winced. Tentaviely, he crossed several feet towards his board and bag. His board was deemed average, and the colors on it-a mixture of read and blue proposed a variety of beliefs. Typical. Average. Dangerous. Exotic. When he touched it, his fingers barely scraping it, he wondered how he arrived from the sea onto the shore. His possessions inside his bag, they were all there-including his cell phone. Although he was entirely relieved all of his possessions were safe and still in his grasp, he could not fend off that strange feeling, nagging feeling that something was off-definitely off.

She watched with feign interest. Not entirely interested with him, but not entirely disinterested with him. It had been approximately ten minutes since he had awakened, but he was oblivious to her presence. A sly smile spread on her face; she could leave and he wouldn't know it. However, an unknown force was making her stay still, and she didn't feel the need to attempt to fight it.

He was an interesting person. His bright hair, his oblivious personality; somehow, she found her interests peeked at this seemingly restless young man. Yes, an amused smile did perk on her lips. Yes, she did feel a strange attachment. No, attachment was the wrong word, pull; she felt a pulling feeling towards this young man. So, it was in her best interest for him to amuse her further.

"You could have drowned, you know."

How long had she been there? His attention was solely on his board and things that he didn't notice the young girl sitting on the edge of the hill that lead to the boardwalk. Hiding underneath the wood, close to one of the stands, her feet dug into the sand, and her stoic face allowed no emotion to show. Her face was shrouded in darkness, but that much he could see because of the moon.

Ichigo had no need to fear this girl, but a worrying sensation ran up his spine at the sound of her voice. It could have been the fact that they were alone. It could have been that he did not how he came to shore. It could have been…it could have been that he was a boy and she was a girl made him uneasy.

It could have been, just maybe.

This did not stop Ichigo from remaining in his defensive pose. "Who the hell are you?"

He noticed a crack in her cool façade. Her lips quirked, but she quickly evaded it and shook her head. When she opened her mouth to respond, it was flat and cool, "I said you could have drowned. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

He didn't believe her. Shock didn't even run on his face. He didn't need moonlight to see that this girl was too small, too frail looking, to have saved him, if she did. If he had been in any danger he would have remembered it; who could not remember danger when danger would ultimately lead to death? Although his face told her he didn't believe her, she didn't reveal any sort of indignity to it.

Her legs were cupped under her chin; she wanted to smile. This young man made it too hard not to, with that scowl on his face, it made her somewhat sober. It also made her…fiery. "You don't believe me?" Her lips tugging on a pleased smile, "You do not believe that I saved your life?"

"No, I don't." His eyes narrowed suspiciously at her. Cool, collected, and not in the least upset at the accusation. He was calling her a liar right where she sat, but it didn't seem to upset her in the least.

"Is that so?" It sounded as if she was testing the very sentence, Is that so, trying it out for the first time. She stayed under the boardwalk, hiding from his view, but not willingly. She wanted to see if he would follow her under, curious to this young man's actions and thoughts. It was dangerous, possibly deadly, but something told her that his man was neither one of those things, unless provoked.

"You do not believe me?"

"Isn't that what I just said?" His voice was naturally gruff; it sounded more like a bark instead of a speaking voice. While his common sense told her that there was no way that this girl could have saved him, his instincts whispered another story. There were only two people on the shore; him and her. Aside from the stars, moon, night sky, and rushing waves, there were no other witnesses to stand trial.

"A thank you would have sufficed," she said confidently, "but I can take that too." She stood to her feet gracefully; Ichigo remained in his defensive stance. It was not a fight stance, but it held an authoritative look to it. The girl took his stance in a humorous manner; she casually moved herself away from the darkness and shadows. He could see the faint line of a smirk on her face. The color drained from his face.

"I doubt there is any way I can change your mind."

"There isn't a way."

She was a dainty, little creature. Her raven black hair framed her angular face perfectly, and her lips were thin, but they held a full lining to them as well. Her skin was pale, white, ghost-like; when she emerged from her hiding spot she appeared to be floating, much like a ghost. There was an airy, non worldly quality to her, and Ichigo was unable to describe it.

"Then tell me how you got that gash on your head."

It wasn't much, the gash. It was not too big, and it was not too small. He hadn't felt the pain until she mentioned it. He scowled at the self-satisfied look on her face that came into view when she blatantly pointed it out and surprised overcame his slight angered, stoic expression.

As she implied, he had no explanation for the semi dried blood on his face, which he hastily rubbed off, staring at it in mix emotions. The pain was not intense, but it was there, and he poked the tender spot on the side of his forehead, close to his temple, which caused him to flinch more in pain.

He glared at her, I told you so, look.

She mocked his waiting expression. "Do you want me to explain it?"

"You seem to know."

The same sly smile crossed her face again, and it made Ichigo feel something more frustrating than anger. "You lost your balance on your board. You crashed into the rocks; I suspect that is how you got your gash. It looks bad."

It looks bad he thought angrily, but he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing the truth. Instead, he turned his head away from her, fighting off the urge to hit something, anything.

"I can bandage it for you, if you want." She smiled, "The blood may be dried but it can always reopen."

"You have a first aid kit?"

"Today must be your lucky day," she smirked, "I did bring my first aid kit with me."

He stared at the young woman who had yet to be named. The pain was numbing down, but it was only a matter of time before he could bandage it properly. He was impulsive, not stupid. He saw a benefit when he wanted to. Reluctantly, he gave a nod of approval at the idea. A glare of disapproval appeared when he saw the smug look in the girl's eyes when she passed by him, heading towards a red tow bag he hadn't noticed until that moment.

"Sit down and still. This will sting, but it'll prevent bacteria and infection." Spraying disinfectant on the open gash, the girl moved swiftly and without delay. Ichigo did as he was told; he didn't move a muscle, and he was patient. She reached back into her bag and pulled out the rest of her supplies, long bandage tape that was made of thick, clean material. She rolled his head slowly, but carefully. She used the light of the moon to assist her, and he stood still, still baffled by it all. This girl was the only person on the beach besides him; if what she said were true then she had indeed saved him. It made sense, but the girl was small, extremely small. Yet, if she did save him, then it was accustomed for him to feel a debt of gratitude towards her.

"What were you doing out there," she asked while bandaging, "I'm sure you know how dangerous it is."

She wasn't accusing, but Ichigo could not help putting on a defensive front. "What did it look like? I was surfing."

She clicked her tongue, "I know you were surfing, but why at the middle of the night?"

"I should be asking you the same question. A young girl at your age alone, on the beach; it's dangerous out here."

The girl frowned; she didn't like his accusing tone. "If you must know I come here to relax. Going out to the beach during the day is too much of a chore and a bore." She finished the first round of bandaging; she dug into her bag again, pulling out another roll. "It's too much trouble being surrounded by all those people; do you know how it feels? Too crowded."

"Yeah, I do." Surprised how easily the words of agreement flew out his mouth, Ichigo glanced up to see her reaction when she halted her bandaging. Her violet eyes were unreadable, staring down at him with intent inside them. Her head tilted to the side, and the same mysterious smile flashed at him again.

"I'm glad that you do, because it's hard explaining to everyone else." She used her middle finger to press down on the fabric and clasped it with a metal pick to make sure it didn't unwrap itself. "There, you're done."

Gently touching the fabric and instantly feeling how snug it felt around his head, Ichigo huffed.

"You can rewrap it when you get home if you can. This should stay up until you're healed," she sighed, "I wonder what time it is."

"Nearly three."

"I should be going." A smile tugging on her lips, she turned away from Ichigo and trudged upwards to the sidewalks. He watched her small form getting lost in and out of the sand, and a smug smile on his face when she stumbled. Still, she made it to her destination somewhat elegantly, glancing back at him to show him her knowing smile.

They were only a few feet away from each other. He started behind her with his board in tow, but he wasn't as furious to getting to top as she was. Finally, making it to her side, he panted; sweat beading his forehead and mixing in with the remains of the salt water on his body.

"Girl, thanks for the bandaging," he muttered, "and you know, for the near drowning thing."

She gave him a blank look, but when he believed he had offended her in some way, a small smile touched her lips. "Don't call me girl," her eyes shined into his, "my name is Kuchiki Rukia."

"Kuchiki Rukia?"

"Yes."

"Kurosaki Ichigo, thanks for saving me back there. Although I think you're way too small to swimming out there."

"Looks can be deceiving, and who wouldn't do the same if they had to?"

"Hm."

They stood in an awkward silence for a few more minutes. The urge to open his mouth and say something, anything to her, but he kept his mouth shut. Rukia blinked, feeling an uncomfortable feeling rising in her gut, but she shook off with a haughty laugh. "Good night Kurosaki Ichigo. I'll see you when I see you, and if I don't-try not to drown."

She went in the opposite direction; her dainty footsteps fading off into the night, with the rest of her body. He watched her go without a care in the world; an unknown feeling told him something different. It traveled with him as he walked home, nagging and nagging, pinching and stepping on his toes. Even after he retreated to his bedroom without waking a member of his family, he could still feel the presence, nagging him. It was too early to be thinking, but he was thinking. Pressing his head down on his pillow, curling in his bed sheets, Ichigo could still hear the feeling.

This would not be the last time he would encounter Kuchiki Rukia.

A/N: I wanted Masaki to make an appearance earlier. I'm sure you, the readers, can tell what she did in her free time. How did I do? Please leave a review and tell me! I try not to make the chapters too long, but each chapter will vary in length as we progress. Reviews, alerts, and anything else is much loved and appreciated!

Until next time! Thanks again!