The Raven-4

Again, the next day, I make my way to the book store. She's not there. This can't be happening. I've been coming here everyday for a week and I'm as anxious to see her as I was then, if not more. What if something's happened to her? I ignore the way my chest tightens at the thought. Maybe she's just busy. She probably does have a life other than the bookstore, I try to reason with myself. I know I did, and I was neglecting my duties to help my dad in the clinic- though he was being as aloof as I was, telling me I need a break after being oversees and studying for so long, just for a chance to happen upon a simple glimpse of her eyes or the scent of her. She seemed to be a good distraction against the raging emotions and summersaults attacking my chest after I had found out about my supposed arranged commitment with Senna. When she told me about the engagement I was so shocked I couldn't even form a proper reply, just gape and flop my mouth like a guppy fish. After a few moments of embarrassment on my part, I had excused myself claiming to have bad headache. Which wasn't far from the truth seeing as my thoughts exploded, causing a migraine to form.

I knew something like this would happen, and why not? I liked Senna, we were sweet on each other before I had gone to America to finish my studies in medicine. It had been nearly 5 years since I last saw her and I had to admit she was indeed even more beautiful than before. I knew I had liked her but marriage was another issue entirely. There was nothing wrong with the engagement, my father had been friends with her father since they were kids and I liked her as well. I groaned to myself, I didn't understand the problem myself, but whenever I happened to even think about the word like or marriage or future my mind was unconsciously assaulted with images of a raven-haired beauty I had gotten to know these past few weeks. Maybe that's why I was looking for her, to see if these feelings I supposedly harbored for her were actually true or just a farce. I let out a frustrated breath to the heavens. Where was she anyway? I turn to Urahara who was busy with his nose between a book. I stomp towards him.

"Urahara, I want to know where that girl lives? I know this is rude and weird of me to ask but-"

"HunoKama Inn."

I jerk back as if he's slapped me across the face. Anger surges through me and I frown at his humorless joke.

"That's not funny, asshole," I say, my voice dangerously low, "I'm talking about that girl who's always here with me, the one with amethyst eyes."

He raises his eyes from the book to scrutinize me. I almost blush at the tenderness my voice had taken to describe a girls who's name I didn't even know. He turns back to his book.

"I'm telling you what I know. HunoKama Inn."

I almost grab the front of his kimono and slam him to the table. "You bastard."

"Ichigo," he says my name in a surprisingly serious voice. "Get out of my shop if your going to disrespect me."

I couldn't stop my body trembling with anger. I could see the seriousness in his eyes. He can't be lying. But he had to be. I push myself away from his seat behind the register and get out of the shop, banging the door behind me. I started walking where he had told me she would be. I wouldn't believe him, I couldn't. She can't be…

I walk the route to the Brothel which wasn't hard considering Karakura was a small town and HunoKama was a well known whore-house. I spot it in the distance, coming to a halt I suddenly realize how ridiculous this is. She couldn't be here. She can't be a prostitute. My mind started reeling. Maybe she was just one of the maids there. But then how could she afford such an expensive kimono, or the clips on her hair. Just as I'm thinking through this I see her come out. It's been so long I haven't seen her that for a few seconds my heart pounds loudly in my ears and I end up just stareing at her. Then I hide. I can't believe this, I was hiding from a girl. If only Grimmjow could see me now, this would make his life. I turn my head and peek out at her from the corner of a house that veiled me. She's in another silk kimono today and her grace is carried with her ten folds. I look at the building she came out of, no doubt about it. HunoKana Inn. My hands curl into fists, this cant be real. Why-How-What…?

Shit.

Even as I think that, the innocent part of my mind still tries to come up with excuses as to why she was there. Comming out of a brothel. I stare at her as she walks through the crowded streets of the market, looking through necklaces and beads and handkerchiefs when her eyes fall on a boy sitting alone in the corner. Pity fills her eyes as she stares at the disgusting peaches he had on a table in front of him, maybe 5 or 6, all rotting. Suddenly a man comes from behind her, blowing into her ear. I grip the wall in front of me to stop myself from walking to him and ripping his fucking head off, for all I know he might be her lover. She turns to him and glares, saying something inaudible to me and starts to walk away. The man takes hold of her hand and that's when my control snaps, I start weaving through the street my eyes seeing red, my blood boiling, only the thought of smashing that bastard to the ground kept my sanity intact. But then I saw something that will forever be engraved into my memory. He pulls her closer and handed her a bunch of notes. Money. She looks around her worridly and finally back at him and nods, leading to an alley at the side of the road.

What? What's she doing?

I knew, at the darkest part of my mind I knew, but I wouldn't believe. So I followed them, keeping myself hidden. When I reach to where they were I heard the most disgusting sound that was ever to enter my ears. A moan. His moan. I didn't have to look to see what they were doing, my legs lost their strength and I slid down the wall. The heavy sound of breathing and his disgusting moans and pants with the sound of squelch echoes through my ears, pulsating through my body. but…why…

I squeeze my eyes shut at the final sound of his grunt and get up and race through the streets to my previous hiding spot. Clutching my chest, I doubted the erratic beating of it was from running a few meters. It takes a few minutes for me to look again but just in time to see the man come out from the alley, dressed properly with a satisfied smile on his face. I was contemplating the many way in which I could end his life when she came from behind him. As much as I wanted to be angry at her, to want to have nothing to do with her anymore, I couldn't. My eyes immediately softened and my stomach dropped at the dead and empty look in her eyes as she walked to the little boy in the peach stand. I watch as she approached him and he lets a huge smile come to his face, greeting her and showing her his peaches. She leans down on her haunches to tell him something, oblivious to the muddy road staining her expensive silk kimono. He suddenly smiles largely and hugs her, she puts her delicate arms around him. My eyes widen as they pull away and I see her hand him the money the man had given her. He looks down at it and suddenly starts crying. She cups his cheek and kisses him before getting up and standing above him, waiting for him to calm down. He sniffles but gives her a wet smile and turns to run away. She looks after him for a minute and turns to take a rotten peach from the table and bites into it. She turns back to the street, but I've already left. I've seen enough.

I lay my head down on the table, my thoughts disturbed and confused. I was getting uncomfortable with the time I was consumed in thinking about him. I hadn't gone to the bookstore for 2 weeks now. Maybe it was better this way, out of sight out of mind, as they always say. I let out a sigh just as there's a knock at the door.

"Come in," I call, without lifting my head. I would never get used to that knock, there weren't that many customers for me in the first place because of my lack of physique and my attitude but just the same, there were some men with a range of preferences. I felt sorry for the other more expensive girls working on the first floor of the inn, Matsumoto, Nell and Orihime were part of that group. They had more requests than they could handle.

"Rukia, you got a client," I hear Yoruichi tell me from the door. I nod against the table without lifting my head. After a few seconds I hear footsteps approach.

"So you really do work here?"

I jolt up like I've been electrocuted and turn around.

"You…"

It was him, the boy with the sun-like hair. He's looking around the expanse of the room. What was he doing here? He had found out…he had found out… my insides tightened uncomfortably and my palms became sweaty as my heartbeat increased.

"What are you doing here?" there was anger in my voice and I wanted to unleash all of it on him. Why him? Of all people Why him? My face took on a deadly scrawl. I wasn't so angry at him but rather the events fate had left me to. Why…

He shrugs, still not looking at me. "I came to see you."

I stifle a gasp in my throat. He came to see me? How naïve of him.

"Well you've seen me, now get out."

He smirks at that and finally looks at me. His eyes are hard and angry as they take in my demeanour. I have never in my life been more shameful at what I am. This made me even angrier, who was he to provoke such feelings in me. I was about to lash out at him when he slides the door close behind him. He takes a step foreword and sits down cross-legged in front of me, a bag I hadn't noticed before, dangling from his wrist. He tilts his head slightly to the side and appraises me, his eyes still hard, the amber melting and sending a shiver down my spine and his smirk still in place.

"No." He says with finality in his voice, I narrow my eyes at him. "I already paid for your time."

The first time in a long time, a familiar prickling came to my eyes and a twitching in my nose before tears threatened to show through. What had I expected? What had I thought? That he was different? That he didn't look like the other men that came here everyday looking for a fuck before going home to their wife and kids? I wouldn't let my tears show, he wasn't worth it. No human would ever be worth your tears. I looked down, willing my stoic expression to remain unchangeable on my face. I started loosening the sash around my middle, pulling on it ever so slowly, like a robot.

"W-what are you doing?"

I look up just in time to see the pink tint cover his cheeks, he averts his eyes and pulls his head down.

"What?' I snap at him, slightly confused

"Uh- um, don't take your clothes off idiot," he says stammering slightly. I furrow my brows further. What was he saying?

"You want to fuck with our clothes on?" I ask, genuinely lost. I see the red tint touch his ear and almost feel the heat of his embarrassment hit me. He shakes his head.

"I don't want to sleep with you."

We were both silent for a few moment. "What do you mean?" I ask, tilting my head slightly to the side.

"You heard me," his voice taking on a hard edge. I didn't notice, too appalled at what he was saying.

"You know what this place is right? I took you to be naïve, not an idiot."

He looks up finally, glaring at me. My lips twitch in a smirk at that, retying the sash over my kimono. He straightens but the blush is still evident on his cheeks.

"I know what this place is. I just…didn't come here for that."

"Then why did you come?" I ask, my voice had gone soft and I cross my arms over my chest feeling even more self-conscious then before if that was possible.

"I told you, for your time."

We both stay like that for a while, silent. His eyes clash with mine and I can't help but look away and clear my throat.

"What would you have me do?"

He furrows his brows at that but doesn't say anything, instead he reaches for his bag and takes out a hardcover book from inside. He slides the book over to me and I look at the cover.

The Raven & other poems

By: Edgar Allen Poe

"I got that for you."

I blink. My stomach sinks and a large lump appears in my throat as I look at the book, not touching it, just looking with wide eyes. I couldn't hide my surprise from him, he continued to explain.

"I know you like to read and we have a similar interest in books so I got it for you since you weren't coming into the bookstore these days."

So he did notice. I bit my lower lip to keep from controlling the emerging tears forming behind my lids. I pick up the book and finally look up at him. He stares at me, almost expectantly and I notice the nervous twiddling of his thumb. I smile at him, a genuine smile that hadn't graced my face in a long time. This time however, I couldn't help the lifting of my lips and the blush that appeared on my cheeks at his thoughtfulness.

"Thank you."

His eyes widen slightly and for a second I think he didn't hear me because he just stares. After a few moments, his blush returns, he looks away and raises his hand to scratch the back of his neck, the scrawl I had become familiar with this past month adorns his features. "It was nothing."

We sit in silence then for a few minutes, a little awkwardly. "Read it to me."

I look to him, he's staring at me now, only a slight tint remaining of the previous blush. "Excuse me?"

He adjusts the pillows on his side and stretches his body to lie down. "Read it to me."

I look at him for a few seconds to see if he jests but he just stares at the ceiling, one of his legs propped up while the other lies limp, both his hands behind his head. Sighing I pick up the book, open it to the first page and start reading.

I hadn't even noticed how fast time had passed until he pointed it out. I looked at the clock to see that he was right. He was leaving. I ignore the slight traitorous jolt of sadness in my chest and look at him hotly. He smirks at me while getting up in a sitting position, one elbow on his knee as he leans back on his hand. For the past 2 hours we had done nothing. I had read to him and when I had finished the book, I read it again. He was quiet the entire time, looking up at the ceiling and sometimes stealing glances at me. I had kept my eyes on the words and sometimes let my eyes drift to his form. Now that we were done I don't think I wanted him to leave.

"Don't get so upset," he says smugly. I give him a flat look.

"Don't flatter yourself."

He chuckles at that and gets up. We're both quiet for a second, letting the silence sink in. He stands across my sitting position awkwardly and I try not to look at him. He suddenly moves towards me and leans down on his haunches a feet across me to my level. I look at him and see him regarding me with a serious expression.

"You know it's strange. We've met so many timesbut I still don't know your name."

I blink at him. He was right. All this time I've been referring to him as 'you' or 'he' to Momo and the others.

"Rukia."

His lips turn up slightly into a small smile. "Kurosaki Ichigo."

I nod once, smirking. "It suits you."

He rolls his eyes, his scrawl in place. "Your getting it wrong, it's not a fruit, it means one who protects."

"Whatever you say," I smirk at him. He scrawl and stands up, heading towards the exit.

"I hope the money you spent was worth it," I say again, without thinking. What was wrong with me? He reaches the door and places a hand on the side. He turns to look at me with a small smile, his eyes melting honey combs.

"Every penny."

From then on, Ichigo was there with me every night. He hadn't tried to touch me once and even though I would sometimes imagined what it would feel like to have his hands roam my body or how his would feel under mine, or wonder if his hair and his lips were as soft as they looked, these were bounderies I didn't wish to cross. I never initiated anything and neither did he. 'Friends' would the closest label that would describe our relationship, though it somehow seemed too innocent of a statement to me. He would bring me different book from then on. Just his own that he would ask me to read as he sat or lay down across me in my room.

"Where did you learn to read?" he asks me in one of his visits as I pause at a period.

"When I was little, I had a neighbour who used to be a teacher but had gotten sick so he stayed home. He taught me everything."

I'm grateful he left the subject at that, I wasn't ready to tell him anything concerning my childhood. He was silent for a few seconds, I don't think he expected me to continue because when I did, his eyes widen in surprise slightly.

"I love it," I whisper, unconsciously running a hand down the page of words. Books held another world in their words and paragraphs. I loved living in that world. Words that meant so much to me and left behind some sort of message. With each book I read I felt an inexplainable feeling of growth and maturity. I hadn't realized I had stated my thoughts outloud until he confirmed the feeling. When I looked at him, something in his eyes told me he knew exactly how I felt.

The time he spent with me seemed to grow every time he came and even though I would never admit it, I was starting to enjoy his company far too much. After the fourth day he came in, he sat much closer in front of me. The sixth day he sat cross-legged beside me, peeking over my shoulders at the words I was reading from the book, our shoulders touching every so often, sending tingles down my spine. A week had passed where he would come everyday, filling my nightly schedule with just his company. However, on the seventh day, he didn't come. I received a customer that day. He had his way with me and then left, I sat on my usual spot beside the window, staring out at the jasmine petals flittering down from the tree. I tried not to think about him, of his honey-amber eyes, his mischievous smile or his obnoxious hair. The stars shone like diamonds in the velvet sky and I listened to the gentle sound of door chimes created from the blowing wind to a shop beside us until they lulled me to sleep.

I waited for him the next day, then the next, then the next. He didn't come. I read the book he gave me countless times. I suddenly felt angry at him for abandoning me. But that was ridiculous, I hadn't belonged to him in the first place. My anger turned to confusion. Why did I care whether he came or not? I wasn't dependent on him. So what if I enjoyed his company? Did that mean he was supposed to be here everyday. My confusion only grew and finally led to depression. I stopped eating, sleep eluded me and I couldn't help the sighs that rolled out of my mouth in almost every breath. One day after a week of his absence I was sitting on the floor with my book on the low table, a batch of sake also sat on the table for my convenience. I heard the sound of quick and heavy footsteps and turned around just in time to see Ichigo slide my door open. His hair was slightly dishevelled and there were bags under his eyes, he was panting hard as if he'd been running and his black vest was slightly askew. I pulled my eyebrows together in confusion.

"Wh-"

"My sister got sick."

I shut my mouth. He comes in and shuts the door behind him.

"She got sick about a week ago and since my father's away on a business trip I had to take care of her. She's better now and my fathers just got back home."

And the first thing you did was come here?

Suddenly, all the anger, all the frustrations and emotions I had been feeling and battled with the entire week depleted. Like they didn't matter. He was here, nothing mattered. He takes a deep breath and comes towards me. I put my hand down on my lap and stare at him as he approaches me. He sits down in front of me, but instead of asking me to read, he brings his face foreword. For a second I thought he had meant to kiss me but instead, his head fell on my lap.

"W-what are you doing?" I ask in confusion, wiggling away from him. Slightly disappointed because of my expectation for the kiss and surprised at his forwardness. He groans and turns around, the back of his head on my lap now and his body facing up, eyes on mine.

"Stop moving. Just let me sleep. I'm so tired."

I turn my hands into fists to stop myself from moving. A creeping warmth instils in my heart as I hear his first breath of deep sleep. He was so defenceless in front of me that I felt like hurting him. But looking at his sleeping face I knew I never would. I take a deep breath and turn back to the words on my book. Ignoring the strange churning in my heart.

He comes a little earlier than usual the next day. The sun is still up and I sit beside my window looking out when he enters my room. I hadn't expected him till a while later. He smirks at the surprised look on my face and comes towards me. He still has bags under his eyes.

"I couldn't sleep," he says as he sees me eyeing his bags as a way of explanation. He was kneeling down beside me when he suddenly looks up at me, his eyes widen slightly as they meet mine. I pull back at the closeness of his face, a blush threatening to bloom.

"What?" I ask.

He blink a few seconds then, without an answer, positions himself to lay his head against my lap. His eyes close and he turns to my stomach, I feel him inhale deeply and his lips lift a little in a half smile.

"You smell like this place. Like jasmine."

I blush at his drunken talk during sleep. He couldn't mean that. The first reason I sat here everyday was because of the intoxicating smell of jasmines. Maybe the smell had stuck on me long after I left my spot. My cheeks heat even more. How had he been close enough to smell me? His deep breathing fills the room and I look down at him. His face is strong and muscular. He really is very beautiful. His hair is what made him so unique as well as his amber eyes. Even though I would make fun of his hair, I realized that it resembled the rising sun. My legs become numb after a while and I raise my hands and lightly run my hands through his hair. They fall like ripples of silk water between my fingers. I do it again, then again. He groans and moves his head and finally settles down, his face facing my stomach. I look out the window, staring at the jasmines and let my thoughts run free.

Two hours later, his eyes open, I was still unconsciously running my hands through his hair and reading a book with the other when he moaned. I pulled my hand away when he suddenly caught it in his. I noticed the abrupt difference between our hands, while mines were porcelain and fragile, his were tanned, large and squared and entirely circled my small ones. Tingles travel down my body at the intimate contact. I look down at him, his amber eyes meet mine.

"Don't stop."

He tugs my hands slightly and it takes me a second to recover from the intense look in his eyes before I return my hands to his hair and continue where I left off. My fingers are shaking. His eyes stay open this time and he gazes across the room. I pick up my book and continue reading.

"Oh, I almost forgot," he says suddenly, picking his rear up, his head still on my lap and reaching into his back pocket to pull out a small book.

"They're Shakespeare sonnets." He hands it to me and I take it, putting my other book down. He looks pointedly at the book. I return my hand to his hair and I open the first page and start to read.