Hey there! This is 2BfrankIMAhotdog bringing you another chapter of Aizen Sosuke: Psychological Therapist. Two reviews and a boatload of favorites? You guys are great! Sorry about the long wait: my Spring Break came a little early. Enjoy

Next up is Rukia.

Rukia Kuchiki sniffled quietly as she entered Captain Aizen's office. It was a foggy day on soul society and it seemed that the weather felt exactly like she did; with a little dab of rain here, a minuscule snowflake there, it was as though the weather was as confused as herself.

Looking down at her feet as she crossed the threshold, she noticed the fog flowing into the room. Perhaps the fog needed help as much as she did.

Entering farther into the room, she saw Aizen sitting with his back to her on a woven mat, facing out the balcony to where his pond would usually be. But today, there was only a solid wall of grey kept away from the open window by some unknown force. His spiritual pressure, possibly?

"Good of you to be punctual, Miss Kuchiki. When everyone else is bogged down by the weather, you just keep moving."

She hadn't made a sound coming in.

"Th-thank you, Aizen. I-I need some help." Rukia quavered, shaking slightly.

Aizen tossed his hair flippantly back and chuckled quietly, "I know. You wouldn't be here if you didn't need help. Now, sit down, please."

Rukia found the therapist's couch and reclined, still sniffling slightly, "Th- thank y-you."

"You're welcome. Now tell me, Rukia, what's wrong?" His voice was as soft as the sea of fog around his feet.

"I-it's Ichigo. He's becoming more... distant.... That stupid holl- hic- hollow!"

Aizen waggled a finger at her, "Now, now, name calling never solved anything. How would you feel if the hollow called you 'stupid,' hmm?"

Rukia's eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat, forcing her out of her melancholy "I'd be terrified because that would mean he's loose!"

"And why does that frighten you?"

"Because that hollow is a psychotic killer!"

"You shouldn't apply stereotypes, you know." Another finger-waggle.

"It's not a stereotype if he actually does it."

"So it's not a stereotype for me to say that Captain Tosen likes fried chicken, or that Captain Soi Fon would love to tap you and everyone else in the Shinigami Women's Association?"

"I-"

"What if I said that Captain Komamura loves long walks in the park, hmm?"

"Well," Rukia slowly explained, "don't most people?"

"The dog park?" Rukia winced slighlty. "Stereotypes hurt." Just for effect, a rainbow slowly arched over the therapist's head.

Rukia nearly puked.

"Well, he's a problem because he makes me afraid to be around Ichigo!"

"How so?"

"Because I don't know when he's going to... 'come out to play,' as he would say."

"What's wrong with a little play?"

"He destroys buildings and people!"

"Probably empty buildings set up for demolition."

"And the people?"

"Everyone dies. He's really just quickening the process."

Rukia shuddered and quickly got up to leave, but was blocked by Aizen's spiritual pressure.

"Now, now, Rukia," he waggled his finger again, "If I let you go now, you won't get your money's worth." He then decided that the best way to get his patient to stay would be by unloading a boatload of spiritual pressure directly onto her.

"O-okay!" strained Rukia against the immense force that was quickly turning her into a pancake, "I'll finish it."

"Good." Aizen helpfully aided the young shinigami back onto the "therapy couch."

"Now what?"

"Now, you juggle."

"What."

"Juggling requires intense focus. Juggle every time you're around Kurosaki, Miss Kuchiki, and you'll be too focused to be worried about his hollow."

"I'll be too focused to talk to him. That would... defeat the purpose."

"Humor me."

"Do you... have any?"

Aizen smiled ever so slightly and produced a set of eight peach-colored balls from the folds of his kimono.

"What."

"Humor me, I said."

"I didn't actually think that you'd-"

"Much like Ichigo Kurosaki, you have no spine," he chuckled quietly.

"I thought you were a therapist." Rukia stared daggers at the smug captain before her.

"I practice tough love. Now, juggle my balls."

"Eww."

"Miss Kuchiki, I thought that after living several-hundred years, we could all just put our immaturities behind us, no?"

"Shut up."

"Juggling is a great stress reliever." He held the balls out to her, beckoning her to juggle them, "Hmm?"

She shook her head, amazed at the audacity and the ridiculousness of this captain. Face red with embarrasment, she slowly took the balls and began to flip them from hand to hand...

The next day, Ichigo and Rukia met up at a sandwhich shop so Rukia could tell him about her problems. Ichigo took her order and brought back the food a few minutes later. Much to his surprise, she was juggling.

Or attempting to juggle.

With two balls.

Ichigo was too dumbstruck to ask if this was some new fad she picked up, like her ideas on fashion. He merely stared blankly as on ball fell out of her grasp to the floor while the other knocked over someone's drink in the next booth.

The substitute shinigami slowly went back to their table with the sandwiches, sat down, and waited for Rukia's grumbling to subside before asking, "What the hell are you doing now?"

"Juggling. It's a great stress reliever."

Ichigo snorted.

"Get that stupid look off you face! You know it is."

"If you're too busy juggling to have this sandwich, I'd sure like to have it."

""Oh? No, I'd like it."

"Good. Now tell me, what's been-"

Once more, Ichigo Kurosaki was dumbstruck when he saw his mostly sane friend slowly tear the foot-long sandwich in two, take a bite out of one piece, toss it into the air, and take a bite of another. At the front of the line, someone who looked suspiciously like Aizen Sosuke applauded.