I have been putting off writing this for the past few weeks because I was unsure whether or not it would be the chosen fic by the majority. To be completely honest with you, I am still unsure which to continue. My poll says I should write Motivations and drop this one, but based on the three-week analysis I did, this fic has more reviews, more alerts, more faves, and more hits. So here I am, writing a new chapter, hoping it'd help you guys decide.

This chapter is filler-ish…I think, and it's the type of chapter that usually happens after the storm…or before. Hoho.

Anyways, I merely aimed to show the deep connection that the married couple has despite having tied the knot at such a young age. I hope you like it.

Slight OOC-ness is there somewhere. Forgive me of my grammar sucked—English isn't my mother tongue, and no, I still don't have a beta.

Disclaimer: Bleach isn't mine. Arashi is a popular Japanese boy group, and isn't mine as well (though I'd certainly be more than willing to own MatsuJun XD).

I have never been to Tokyo and not know much about the place, except that they have a tower (how helpful XD), so if someone's willing to lend me some time so I may ask questions, it would be GREATLY appreciated. As of now, I'm making everything up. Sorry.


Raining


Ichigo didn't exactly understand what was going on.

One day, he—begrudgingly, as his dear wife promised him physical pain had he not complied—went to the head office of Gin Ichimaru Entertainment based in Tokyo. The next, he was thrust inside photo studios, recording studios, salons doing photo shoot after recording after makeover. Again and again.

As he stood in front of the camera at that very moment, glaring back at the bright light that seemed hellbent on blinding him—or outshining his orange hair—he remembered his talk with GIE president Ichimaru Gin, that day so long ago.

"Ichigo-kun, ya are boy of so many talents, ya seemed almost like a creepy kid when we first met on Karakura Day. However, being in the business requires more than just raw talent. We shall have to…put ya in a test of sorts, just to see how good ya'll fare in the field."

Three months had soon passed and Ichigo found himself coming to Tokyo more and more often as Ichimaru seemed to have need of him all the damn time.

He even missed the start of classes, but Rukia told him to just forget about it for he could always catch up in the future, if this endeavor proved to be a failure. And thus, for three months, Ichigo underwent several physical changes, rigorous workshops, exhausting photo shoots and endless recordings.

His wife had been really proud of him when he returned from Ichimaru's office weeks after his very first visit. His song had been steadily rising in the free downloads list of iTunes, and his videos uploaded in YouTube had just reached a million hits. And he hasn't been officially launched by GIE yet.

There just might be something in store for him in this.


Ichigo sat nervously inside the dressing room. His eyes glanced around his surroundings—the pale, cream walls, the various mirrors, the lights, the chairs. On one corner was a rack of several different dresses, suits and other clothing materials; on the tables were scattered different cosmetics, from powder, to lip gloss, to eyeliners…not that he knew anything about it, mind you.

He glanced at the clock hanging above the door and realized it had only been two minutes since he last looked. It made him antsier and he couldn't decide whether he wanted time to move fast or freeze. In about 45 minutes, he'd be on the stage to perform for the very first time in front of national television.

It wasn't a big thing, as Ichimaru himself had told him a few days before. He had just been quite lucky to snatch a good couple of minutes of airtime in the show Ichigo would be performing on.

"It just so happened that Arashi canceled on them for a prior commitment their handler missed on their rather busy schedule, and they had to find last minute replacements. I volunteered you. It'd be a good experience, so don't screw up too much," Gin had explained to Ichigo with a huge grin and his famous slit eyes.

The orange-haired man indeed hoped he wouldn't make a mess. Even if this performance wasn't his official launch, it could make or break him. He wondered if his family was watching at that moment in their home, waiting for him to come out. Heh, most probably. He chanced another look at the clock and saw that a good…35 seconds, 36, 37, had passed.

It was about 6:20 pm, and he wondered if his wife was getting ready to leave school. According to her schedule that he had memorized by heart, her last class on Wednesdays ended at 6:30 pm, and she should be home in ten minutes, tops. He absently fingered his cell phone and turned it over and over on the table where it rested, contemplating the pro's and con's of calling his wife to remind her to watch the show. He knew that the first thing on Rukia's mind as she comes home from school was rest. How many times in the past few weeks had he come home from photo shoots to find her out like a light on their couch? He couldn't keep track of the count.

He sighed once more and checked the time. 6:25 pm. Rukia was probably out of school since her professors always left at least 10 minutes before class, according to her stories. He caught his phone in his hand and his eyes softened at the girly rabbit charm hanging on it.

It had been a gift from Rukia, about two weeks ago. She reasoned that he would probably need it because he'd be away from home often. It was a cheap model, not like those touch screen phones that was today's hype. But he absolutely loved it, because he knew how much it could have cost Rukia, considering she bought one for herself, too—identical to his, right down to the rabbit charm that he first detested so much—so he could call her anytime.

He flipped it open and pressed the call button twice, first to summon the recent calls list, second to actually call the name on top of the list. He listened to the ringing a few times, his nerves fraying at every passing second.

"Ichigo?"

That one word calmed him a whole lot, and he let out a breath he had been unconsciously holding. He smiled softly as he stared at the bland walls of the room with much more appreciation than before.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself." Suddenly, Rukia sounded frantic. "Wait, your performance…is it over?"

Ichigo's smile faltered a little, thinking she only remembered his scheduled appearance on national television because he called. "No, baka. Aren't you watching? The contestants of Japanese Idol are still singing. Wait, aren't you home yet?"

And that was when he heard the sound of harsh rain in the background.

"Rukia? Is it raining in Karakura?" He remembered that the morning's weather forecast had been sunny for Karakura-chō. Well it wasn't as if it was the first time the weatherman would be wrong. "Did you bring an umbrella?" His brows were furrowed in concern.

"Uh…no…to both questions," Rukia answered cautiously. "But I'm fine!" she said before Ichigo can start a rant. "I'll be home soon."

There was silence on both ends, before Ichigo's serious voice floated through the airwaves. "Where are you?"

Rukia's gulp was audible even to Ichigo through the phone. It was a sure sign that Rukia was about to confess something she was sure would piss Ichigo off. "I'm in…Tokyo."

Ichigo's scowl got deeper. In Tokyo? At this time? It would take at least an hour of travel from Karakura to Tokyo. Shouldn't she be at school an hour ago? He sputtered, "W-what? What the hell are you doing here in Tokyo? And skipping school at that!"

Ichigo expected a screamfest, with Rukia defending her actions. But his ears were met with a heavy sigh. One that meant defeat.

"I…wanted to see you sing."

Ichigo's eyes immediately softened as his fist that had been resting on his leg tightened. She skipped class and braved through a city she barely knew, all because she wanted to be there for a very important event in his life.

And the silence that ensued reminded him of two things: one, the heavy rain that continued to pour—apparently in Tokyo, and two, that Rukia didn't have an umbrella with her.

"Where are you?" he asked again.

"I told you, I'm in Tokyo—" Rukia repeated in exasperation.

"No, no. I mean where in Tokyo are you?" Ichigo's voice took on a distraught tone.

"Uhmm…I'm in a bus stop. I was supposed to head straight there, but the rain fell so hard. I'm sorry Ichigo…I might miss your—"

"What do you see, from where you're standing?"

He heard some shifting as he assumed Rukia surveyed her surroundings. "Well, buildings…lots and lots of them. And the Tokyo Tower in the distance—"

"Look to your right. Do you see a really tall building with a large satellite dish above?" He could only imagine her distaste at being interrupted again, as she squinted her eyes to look for the said structure.

"Yes…Yes, I think I see it. It's huge Ichigo! Is that Nippon TV? I think I'm about a few blocks—"

"Great. Stay there. Don't move an inch."

And the line went dead.

Ichigo looked at the clock. His performance was set around 7 pm. It was a quarter before that. He cursed under his breath as he looked around the room for an umbrella. From what Rukia had said, he could deduce that she was at the nearest bus station from Nippon TV, which was about a five-minute walk from the broadcasting station.

His eyes landed on a small black umbrella—the only umbrella in the room—and mentally asked the owner of the said object for permission to use it. He snatched it from its peaceful rest in the corner of the room before opening the door.

And then he ran.

He knew Ichimaru would be after his head for this, especially if he wouldn't be able to make it back in time for his performance. He slipped past guards and marshals and soon reached the revolving glass doors of the station.

The bus stop was about a five-minute walk from there. That was, if it wasn't raining.

He cursed again, this time at the rain. He really hated it.


Rukia looked at her phone as Ichigo hang up on her. She glared at the mobile device and cursed her husband mentally in all the languages she knew. 'That idiot needs to learn some manners,' she seethed.

She shivered a bit as she looked around again. The rain hadn't let up. If any, it fell harder, blurring everything from her line of vision. She rubbed her arms in a vain attempt to keep warm. She once again cursed in her head, now at the weatherman, for telling her that Karakura-chō would be sunny, resulting in her wearing a thin sundress. Never mind that she wasn't even in Karakura.

She sighed in annoyance and sat down on the bench beneath the bus stop.

Only to realize it was wet, and now her skirt soaked the water up.

"Damn!"

She stood up abruptly and held her skirt in one hand, trying to squeeze as much water out as she could. No use trying to stay dry now. She looked at the book on her other hand, one she had just purchased two days prior for a major class. It had cost her a fortune, but it was required by her professor. She stared long and hard at the hardbound book whose elegant silver letters seemed to mock her, before closing her eyes and putting it above her head. Finally, she glanced at the direction of the building with the large dish.

And then she ran.


He jumped on puddles as he ran without care. He had long gone past caring for his expensive outfit—one that Ichimaru provided—which was now a little wet from the rain. He silently thanked Gin for making him wear a three-piece suit, for the outermost coat kept him a little dry and warm. The rain seemed to have poured harder the moment he stepped out of the building. Dammit, the rain hated him too, apparently.

Ichigo continued towards his destination despite the blinding rain, turning on the right corners thanks to his eidetic memory. He was halfway there, he knew, and he was panting heavily from the extra exertion it took to run fast when it was raining hard.

He had no moment to spare though, so he simply glanced at the area to reassure himself that he was indeed on the right track, before running at full speed again.

And as he turned another corner, he felt a sharp jab in his upper arm. It felt like someone's elbow, and it was enough to turn his attention towards the rapidly retreating form that just passed him. He watched as the tiny figure—undoubtedly a woman, from all the curves that showed through the thin, wet dress she wore—stopped a few paces away from him, as if having just realized something. She suddenly whirled around, and stared at him with wide, familiar, amethyst eyes.

"Ichigo!"

In a second, he was there with her, shielding her small, fragile body from the relentless outpour with his tiny umbrella. He looked her up and down, from the end of her toes to the very last wet strand of hair on her head, where her two hands still held a book over. He knitted his brows at her current state, more so when he saw the book she used to cover herself, probably ruined now.

All of that for him.

And he couldn't resist the urge to kiss her and envelope her in his warmth. So he leaned down and passionately captured her lips in his, as he slowly maneuvered his suit off his body and draped it around his wife's tiny shoulders, all without breaking their connection.

"Baka," the both of them said at the same time.

"What are you doing here?" She asked with a reproachful tone, but her soft eyes that stared at his conveyed different emotions. Relief and joy among other things.

"I needed to pick my wife up so she could watch me perform," he replied as the thumb on his hand that wasn't holding the umbrella caressed her cold cheek. "So, are you ready to watch me?"

Rukia smiled gently and leaned her face into the warmth of his hand. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

And as he looked at her wet, shivering form and ruined book, Ichigo wholeheartedly believed that.


Ichimaru Gin frowned as he stared at the empty dressing room. Where the hell was that brat? He wouldn't allow this orange-haired punk to shame him before the kid could even be of use.

In reality, Gin saw Ichigo as a mediocre talent, one who had the potential to make it, but an even bigger chance to fail. It didn't matter to him, as long as he could make the kid rise first before bringing him down with Nippon TV. But the kid's unpredictable nature proved to be a problem in putting Kurosaki Ichigo on leash.

Just now, his men had informed him of the disappearing act his newest pet pulled without valid explanation, a few minutes before his scheduled performance. Gin wondered if the pressure finally got to the kid's thick skull, and this was his way of escaping.

A quick knock on the door dispelled this thought away, as one of his men poked his head in. Gin glanced at his Gucci watch. 6:57 pm. If this man was to tell him some piece of bad news, someone was seriously going to get hurt.

"Sir, Kurosaki Ichigo has just been seen entering the premises."

Gin opened his eyes when the aforementioned lad—who had apparently been running—entered the room. And he had his wife in tow. And they were both wet.

Another knock was heard.

"Sir? Two minutes before Kurosaki Ichigo gets on," a staff of the show informed them.

Gin nodded his dismissal before turning to eye the couple. Two minutes was barely enough time to change into a new pair of pants, much less get his hair dried and his make-up re-applied. As punishment, Gin would let the kid get on the stage looking like that, a wet dog. "Go."

Ichigo blinked and nodded as he vainly ran his hand through his orange locks to gain some semblance of style on it. He passed a quick look to his wife before disappearing with the show's staff member.

Gin scrutinized the petite woman left standing there, keeping herself warm in what he assumed was Ichigo's suit. He closed his eyes before walking away without a word.


Days after the performance, Ichigo found himself called over to the GIE head office. Despite the stunt he pulled, the performance proved to be a success. The crowd responded well to the new talent, and seemed to be instantly smitten by him.

Ichigo was simply thankful that he pulled it off, but was quite apprehensive of facing Ichimaru again. The famous producer hadn't said a single word to him since that fateful night, and Ichigo thought the older man had lost all interest in him due to his lack of professionalism. It had come to him as a surprise that he received a call summoning him to the office.

He figured it would either be the start of something, or the end of everything.

He found himself outside the dreaded office as Ichimaru's secretary slowly opened the door for him. "Please come in, Kurosaki-san."

"Thanks," was all Ichigo muttered as he made his way to the silver-haired man sitting behind his large oak desk at the center of the room.

"Have a seat, Ichigo-kun."

The orange-haired man did as he was told, and directed his gaze to the oak desk. He heard a thud before his eyes could register the files thrust in his general direction.

On top of the thick pile of paper was a picture of him—his first performance—and below it was an article about him.

"It seems that despite your…momentary disappearance, you were still a hit."

Ichigo looked at Gin for the first time that day, and saw the older man reaching into his suit for a very expensive-looking pen. The orange-head just stared dumbly at the pen offered to him.

"Omedetō. Kurosaki Ichigo, today is your contract-signing."

Amber eyes widened as Ichigo took the pen. He turned his attention back on the pile of paper, and slowly lifted the first page consisting of the news article.

His eyes skimmed through the whole thing, his mind delayed in processing all the information being fed to it.

an exclusive 5-year contract to GIE…

a bachelor's pad in Shinsō Condominiums…

a brand new car…

Ichigo was overwhelmed. The hold he had on the pen tightened as he scanned the pages further.

full payment of your apartment in Karakura-chō…

a four-year full scholarship in Karakura University granted to Kurosakl Rukia for a program of her choice…

a monthly stipend of 80,000 yen for Kurosaki Rukia…

Ichigo slowly uncapped the pen, his hand trembling slightly at the turn of events and the assault of emotions. The tip of the pen touched the bold, black line where the orange-haired man's signature was supposed to be, when a particular line caught his eye.

Condition: Hide your marriage from the public.


Yes, I rushed in writing this, as you can obviously tell. All in two hours. I wanted to breeze through all the intro-ish parts and move on with the story. Speaking of which…

The story's finally making progress. People saw this fic as a light-hearted story…and well…I tried to make it as light-hearted as possible. Tell me if I failed big time.

Sorry if it was too long. I planned on a short chapter, but as I was writing, it just…came out like that.

Thanks for reading, please review and tell me what you think!

And the poll's still in my profile! PLEASE VOTE! :D