The sound of the running shower woke Ichigo, who, upon rolling over, remembered that he was naked. And that his back stung. He got up in spite of himself and put on some fresh boxers. The ones he'd worn the night before had been flung somewhere he couldn't plainly see with a cursory scan of the room, but he bet they'd turn up later on in the week.

He was about to feel annoyed about that, but upon remembering Rukia's less fortunate state of undergarment affairs, he figured he deserved at least a lost pair of boxers. Apparently, being as conservative as he had around her for so long had been more frustrating that he'd thought. Though in his defence, the thin string waistband of the tanga she wore so easily snapped in his fingers that he couldn't really be blamed.

Quite literally ripping her out of the sarashi was a different story, though – he felt bad about that one. But it was too much damn trouble to unwrap!

He gathered up the bandages, all frayed at the ends from furious tearing, and tossed them in the waste bin. He needed to keep himself busy so he wouldn't be forced to reflect on the escapades of nighttime-Ichigo, who already seemed like an entirely different person. Ichigo briefly missed having his Inner Hollow around to blame for any out-of-character acts on his part.

Next, he removed his bedding, rolled it in his arms, and tossed it all in the hamper, fetching fresh sheets and a new blanket from the small closet and laying them out. He made note that he'd have to be discreet in bringing the used bedding to the communal laundry area.

But when the rush of the shower suddenly stopped, the previous night came stampeding back with vivid clarity. Mostly because he was now in a rush to figure out what to say about each of his actions. Did he address each casually and explain himself? Did he apologize? Did he thank her? Did they exchange notes or something, or did you just not talk about it until next time?

Next time, huh? You pervert.

Rukia stepped out of the washroom followed by an entourage of steam, wrapped in only a towel. Around her neck was the chain with the ring-jumping rabbit, now joined by her engagement ring, strung along ahead of it. Her hair was a really sexy sort of damp. He wanted to touch it a lot, and if she decided she wanted to dry it off on the front of his shirt while he was still wearing it, he wouldn't complain. Not that he'd even be around to at that point, because it would surely see the return of nighttime-Ichigo.

Only when Rukia flicked him hard between the eyes did he break the stare he hadn't even noticed falling into. She looked...displeased.

"You have to go to Urahara's and fetch my gigai from before," she ordered.

"Did you need to go somewhere?" Ichigo asked, earning him another flick.

"Yes, you fool, home. But I can't be expected to do that in just my shihakusho, can I?" she asked peevishly.

Ichigo was confused. "Why not? It's what you came in, isn't it? Wouldn't it look weird if you got back wearing different clothes?" Did she want to make some sort of statement or something, like those couples who wore matching shirts after visiting a love hotel?

This time she didn't flick him, but stamped her foot, keeping a tight grip on the top of her towel. "In case you forgot, you shredded my underclothes last night! I can't go back to Soul Society with nothing underneath!"

Oh.

But, shredded? He'd just picked them all up, they didn't look shredded. He wasn't some sort of animal...

Right?

"Okay, fine," Ichigo said, letting feigned annoyance cloak embarrassment. "But you don't wanna catch a cold while I'm gone. You can find something here to put on until I get back," he told her. She tutted.

"Just hurry back and we won't need to worry about that," she said, seeming to have cooled down some. "And there's no need to let Urahara know your reasons for needing it..." She wouldn't meet his eyes as she said that. "Just...make sure there's still clothes on it," she said while reddening.

Ichigo remembered those clothes well – the ones from their...date. He liked those clothes a lot, even if they hadn't let him sleep well a few nights afterward.

"Okay, I'll be back soon."

It felt good to be able to put weight on her leg again without the shooting pain. Not that she felt very weighted at all. The first thing Karin had noticed upon becoming a Shinigami – or something like one – was that you felt very light on your feet. Not less heavy, but more like gravity had relaxed its grip on you a bit. Or maybe the whole world took its hand off you, because you definitely felt less...constricted. You could breathe deeper and see clearer – not further, just more vividly. It was a very energizing feeling, like scoring the winning goal in a soccer game, where you felt like you could do anything.

The previous night, she'd just walked with Urahara to his shop and back to, as he said, "get her bearings", talking about how it felt and what she was to do from then on. Meanwhile, her father had taken her empty body back to the clinic and fixed it up, but not so much that she didn't limp. He assured her that it wouldn't last long, but she actually kind of welcomed it. The limp, and the fabricated fall that caused it, had been the perfect excuse for missing soccer practice in favour of starting her Shinigami training. Still, dealing with it all through class had been kind of a pain.

She looked at her body, which sat on the outcropping of the shop, leaned against its wall as if in rest, its bandaged right leg dangling off the edge. It was still a little creepy to be able to look at yourself like that.

A bokken came flying at her that she just barely caught.

"For now, that's your zanpakuto," said Urahara-san with his trademark smirk. She understood what zanpakuto were, and that the thing he'd stabbed her with was one. Apparently, all Shinigami had one...but she didn't, yet.

The wooden sword felt awkward in her hands. She had never been a handy type of person like her sister. She worked better with her legs and feet. She guessed she could just give up and kick him if it became too much. But she still took up the sword in her hands.

"Okay," she said with all the determination she could muster.

Urahara tutted as he walked over to her. Before she could ask what was wrong, he sent the sword wheeling out of her hands with one quick, simple upward flick of his cane. "You're not gonna last long like that," he told her, but with an understanding smile.

Karin let herself bounce over to where the sword had landed as if she was on the moon. She picked it up and returned to Urahara, once again readying the sword. He puppeted her arms and hands until they felt more solid around it. He widened her stance by tapping the inside of each leg once with his cane until she felt nicely balanced. Then, unexpectedly, he touched the tip of his cane to the back of her neck. She arched her back and just barely stifled a squeal.

"Well, it's better than slouching, at least," Urahara-san chuckled as he came around to face her. "Now Benihime and I are going to come at you, so be ready," he said, reclaiming some seriousness.

"Right."

Despite being the same age her brother had been when he'd started his life as a Shinigami, Karin knew that she paled in comparison. She'd heard from Urahara how quickly Ichigo picked up on everything, and wondered how much further along he'd be by now if it were him in her place.

Urahara came at her hard and fast, holding back surprisingly little, or so it seemed. To her credit, she'd at least gotten to the point where the bokken didn't get knocked out of her hands every time, and she could actually hold on to it long enough for a lengthy cane barrage to show her how hopeless she was at parrying. The pain was distracting, and she supposed that was part of it. She hadn't realized how much it rattled in your hands when the sword you held got struck so hard.

Urahara-san didn't seem as disappointed with her as she was with herself. He only really pointed out tips on how to improve, without ever reprimanding her. Of course, compliments were also sparse, but that didn't bother her. She had never responded to positive reinforcement like Yuzu. It always felt like she was being babied. Urahara-san certainly didn't baby her.

"Thanks," she said as Urahara-san set a cup of chilled tea beside her on the outcropping. She pumped her hurt leg a few times to force herself to get used to it again, to equate herself with the pain so it wouldn't be so jarring when she finally got up.

He sat down beside her with his own cup in-hand, staring out into the street as he spoke. "Don't be so worried. I told you already that being a Shinigami was something completely different."

Karin only nodded as she sipped the cooling drink.

"In Soul Society, you can live a very long time. Shinigami training at the Academy can take decades if you need it to. This was just the first day, so try to relax," he continued.

"But...my brother..."

As if on cue, Ichigo's voice rang out.

"Hey! Urahara-san!"

Karin turned to see Ichigo jogging up to the shop, but when he noticed her, he stopped dead. At first she thought he was surprised to see her there, or worried when he saw her leg, but he looked...guilty instead.

"Yo, Ichigo!" Urahara-san called to him, breaking the tension. "I was just having tea with Karin-chan, do you want to join us?" he invited casually.

"You were having tea?" her brother repeated, his bewilderment quickly quashing his guilt.

"Yes, but that's really something you should talk to your father about. So, what brings you all the way here?" Urahara-san asked, getting up to meet Ichigo, who remained hopelessly lost-looking.

Then he went bright pink.

"I...came to get Rukia's gigai," he said uneasily. Karin knew what gigai were, but why did Rukia-san need one?

Urahara looked suddenly conspiratorial. "Ah, a satisfied customer," he said, deepening her brother's colour. Then he whispered something in Ichigo's ear that earned him a knock on the head.

"It's nothing like that! Just get it for me, okay?" Ichigo asked, sounding suddenly very urgent. Urahara relented with an "Okay, Okay" and made his way into the store. Once they were alone, Ichigo approached her. "...Hey," he said.

"Hi."

"What did you do to your leg?" he asked without looking at it.

"Nothing," she said, looking away, "I just fell."

"Stop lying," he told her, but without any real anger. "You don't think I can tell what's different about you?"

Karin's heart skipped a beat.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna ask you to stop," Ichigo told her in response to her unspoken fears. "That's none of my business," he continued as he walked up to her. He knelt down so that they were almost face-to-face, slid his arm around her back, and pulled her close.

Even if her hands hadn't been holding her tea, Karin wasn't sure she would have known what to do with them right then. Ichigo wasn't a hugger, so protocol didn't exist for it.

"Sorry I wasn't there," he whispered.

"I'm fine, Ichi-nii," was all she said in return.

Urahara-san appeared, but not with a gigai, unless he'd made one you could fit inside a paper bag. As Ichigo raised to meet him, he was handed the bag. When he looked inside, it made him go even redder than before and clamp down tightly on the top.

"Wh-wh-wh—" he stammered, but Urahara-san cut him off.

"Call it intuition," he said with a devious grin. "You wouldn't want to carry the whole thing back with you in your human body, right? This is easier."

"That's not the issue!" her brother bellowed. "Couldn't you pick something a little more respectable?"

"You don't think she'll like it?" Urahara-san asked, sounding genuinely surprised at Ichigo's reaction.

"Are you kidding?! She's gonna break my nose if she thinks this was my fault!"

Urahara raised his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, Ichigo, but that's all I have in-stock. Then again, you could always try another store for that sort of thing..." he said whimsically.

The thought of whatever-it-was seemed to fluster Ichigo beyond belief.

"It's fine! Bye!" he said, spinning on his heel to leave. "And make sure Karin doesn't overdo it!" he called back as he ran.