Title: Dream of Me
Chapter 3: Bad Omen
ICHIGO'S DREAMSCAPE
"Stay please."
Rukia was shocked that she had left herself so unaware in the dream world that she hadn't noticed until now the oddity of a figure approaching her much less touch her.
The hand on her thigh was quickly withdrawn when he saw her pause in her pursuit of leaving. When she turned to look at her uninvited bench mate, she was stunned to find the man was actually an older version of the boy she had been ritually watching these last several weeks. Glancing back to confirm if the boy was still there; she found him still huddling over the blood stains by the river.
Never had she encountered a dream where a mortal could materialize their full conscious self into their own dream. How he was able to even see her enough to approach her was another mystery. In all her centuries as an Oneroi, no one had ever detected her in the dream world. The dream world was her playground, everything was at her beck and call, and nothing occurred that she didn't want to happen. In fact, she was unsurpassed at what she did. Rukia was always able to accurately pinpoint the exact wants, needs, and desires of her victims with amazing acumen.
A consciously aware mortal soul in the dream world did not bode well for her. She had a feeling that this was a sign; whether good or bad, it was an ill timed portent. If she could feel the emotion of worry, she had a feeling that now would be the time she would feel such expression.
Rukia wondered if these nightly visits would finally get back to Aizen-sama. He would not approve of where she had been spending most of her off-work hours. Already, she could feel the bite of cat o' nine tails lashing fire against her back. The only reason she had been able to escape Aizen-sama's attention this long had been because he knew that she had a lot longer lists of souls to gather. She had always been extremely good at her job; consequently, she usually finished early in the night and snuck about the human world without permission.
Rukia was different from other Oneroi in more than one aspect besides her appearance. Emotions much less strong emotions didn't exist within her, but she knew logically that if she could feel something it was this one feeling. She loathed fires. Any type of fire against her skin caused her untold pain. Unfortunately, where she resided, fire was the one feature in abundant detail. She didn't need to know what emotional pain was to understand physical pain, and her body's innate desire to avoid the fire punishments as much as possible.
Her potent distaste of fire made her seek out its antithesis. Ice and snow. She felt completely calm and at sea whenever she was near it. Ergo she would try to find places to settle herself briefly when the season was right. If she couldn't be near ice and snow in the real world, she would find a sleeping human and manipulate his dreams to showcase the cold beauty of the winter season. The world of winter had always fascinated her; its coldness, solitariness, and purity had always drawn Rukia like a moth to a flame.
The other facet that made her the stray changeling in the midst of the Oneroi, was her point of origin. She couldn't lay claim to any progenitors. Aizen-sama had told her long ago in passing that her strange white appearance had caused her to be abandoned as an infant and that even he didn't know her parentage.
Because Oneroi could not feel emotions, social interactions between each other were minimal at best, unless a succubus went into mating heat every century or so. The circumstances of her birth, her abhorrence of fire, and her ostracized treatment in the Oneroi society did not faze her; Rukia just took them as a matter of facts and accepted it. In some ways, she was thankful that she lacked emotions; otherwise she surmised she would not have been as indifferent to her plight as she put on. Despite her emotionless facade, there was always a niggling doubt in the back of her mind that something was not what it seemed; however, she would ignore it deftly go about her daily rituals as Aizen-sama commanded.
Rukia was pulled from her thoughts briefly when the nervous tightening of her bench mate's shoulders drew her full attention. Despite the multitude of times she had visited him, she had truly never looked at his sleeping figure in detail. The only detail she vaguely recalled about him was the way his orange locks gleamed duly in the moonlight.
The transition from boy to manhood must not have been an easy journey; there was no trace of the young carefree boy in his face. A scowl permanently marred his face. His amber eyes were so intensely deep they glowed with an inner light. His shoulders were broad and muscular narrowing down to a slender waist. If they were standing, she had a feeling he would tower over her.
Rukia, herself had never felt true desire; because her time of mating heat had not transpired yet, despite her coming of age. Nevertheless, she thought that this human might be deemed attractive in the eyes of the mortal world. She often promised physical attributes similar to his in her nightly bargains with her victims.
"Ichigo Kurosaki." He said with a distinctly awkward attempt at a smile, and raised a hand before her.
For a moment, she was distracted by how foreign the expression on his face looked that she hadn't truly followed what he had said. Rukia only blinked questionably in response, when she saw that he was waiting for a reply from her.
She was confused with the hand he appeared to offer her. What was she supposed to do with that hand? Touch it? Oneroi did not touch unless a succubus was in mating heat, and they definitely did not touch mortals.
When he lightly grasped her hand, she had to inwardly stop herself from flinching. However, she couldn't help herself from becoming curious to this new tactile sensation. When he retained her hand and lightly sandwiched her hands between both of his, she began to feel a foreign feeling of heat begin to build. Nervously, she tugged her hand away and hid it behind her back, wanting to rub her hand vigorously against her robe to rid itself of that tingly feeling that persisted after his touch. Was this some sort of human custom? Rukia didn't understand, but she wasn't exactly repulsed either, it was just an overall strange experience.
While she was still analyzing the sensory of human touch, the mortal huffed in nervous impatience and scratched the back of his head with one head.
"Um … let's try that one more time. The name's Ichigo Kurosaki. Age 26. Karakura Police Detective . What's your name? Who are you? What are you? And most importantly, what the fuck are you doing in my dreams?"
Human social customs were so bizarre, Rukia thought. Despite her knowledge of their dreams, she never could fully grasp their customs and rituals. A demon, no matter what type would never reveal their namesake. All demons had two names. One name was given to them by others, as a sort of nickname. The other name, however, was kept concealed. The only ones privy to such information was the named demon themselves and their parents. Although in this case, Rukia was different in that aspect as well, she didn't know her concealed name. To all demons, no matter what type, revealing ones names meant the possibility of someone summoning them with the archaic magic knowledge of the black arts. Once the ritual was performed a demon could become enslaved into the summoner's bidding.
"Ichigo Kurosaki," she said hesitantly, testing the foreign sound of his name. She wondered absently whether knowing the name of a mortal had as much power as knowledge of a demon's name.
A/N: This was originally part of a much longer chapter. But it didn't really transition well w/ the other content so I split it up. Rukia's history is pivotal to the story. The next chapter will be the turning point of all.
PS. I've updated the previous chapters. As always, please read and review. Let me know if there are any grammatical/spelling errors or if some point needs further clarification; or if you've enjoyed the story thus far. Any feedback is appreciated on any of my stories.