It Happened Once (Or Maybe Twice)
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Ichigo would be the first to admit that his alcohol tolerance is nowhere near that of legendary drinkers and monsters like Kyoraku-Soutaichou or Rangiku, who makes it their life's mission to down their weight in alcohol every night, overindulging in their vices at every opportunity granted. He maintains that he is not a lightweight. He holds his liquor considerably well (bless those Shiba genes) but knows his own limit well enough to make sure that he doesn't overdo it.
The reason behind that is simple: Rukia really really doesn't like it when he goes home drunk. And it goes without saying Ichigo goes to great lengths to keep his wife (and Captain) happy. He declines invitations from Renji and the others where possible, learns from experience not to mix his drinks or take drinking challenges too seriously to the point of being carried away, and most importantly he knows when to put his foot down and excuse himself for the night.
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This morning however, it is made painfully clear to him what happened the night before must have been truly epic. His head is pounding when he wakes up. His mouth feels as dry as a desert and his stomach churns uncomfortably. He drapes an arm across his eyes, shielding them from the harsh sunlight streaming through the windows. He moans, coiling and wrapping himself deeper under the covers, feeling horrible and sick.
Alcohol, he decides is poison and he is never touching it again. He would kill for a glass of water right now.
Still bleary-eyed, he reaches out blindly at the bedside table, almost knocking over the tall glass of water in his haste. The cool sip of water is refreshing as he brings it to his dry lips and he finishes it in a gulp, his thirst still unquenched. Grumbling and hissing at the bright lights, he eases himself off the bed gingerly, trying and ultimately failing to get through the door without wincing, cursing when he rams his big toe against the wood.
His journey down the stairs for more water is every bit as trying, forcing him to hold onto the rails with a dead grip when he hobbles down the steps one step at a time, one foot after the other, all while valiantly suppressing the urge to hurl and empty the contents of his stomach. An eternity later, he finally reaches the kitchen. He wrenches the kitchen tap open, filling the empty glass with water. The sound of water gurgling as the glass is being filled up has never filled him with such relief and he downs several glasses of it, eyes squeezed tightly shut and moaning as water soothes his parched throat.
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"I'm home!"
The sudden noise makes him jump and he almost drops the glass. When he recovers, Rukia is already standing at the entrance of the kitchen, arms akimbo and leaning against the door with a knowing smirk. He glares at her, scowling. The midget did it on purpose!
Rukia pretends that she doesn't notice anything amiss; ignoring his scowls and glares as she crosses the distance between them and tiptoes to kiss him on the cheeks. Despite his grumblings, Ichigo obliges. There is routine and familiarity born from years of practice in the way he bends unprompted, knees flexing and face dipping low when she beckons with her eyes. The small smile on her lips and the twinkle in her eyes makes the headache and nausea somewhat more bearable.
"Good morning to you too, Your Grouchiness—" Rukia tilts her face up at him, grinning— "Feeling better now?"
"I'm not a grouch. You're just annoyingly chipper this morning," he mutters but doesn't fight it when Rukia wraps her arms around his waist. He shifts closer to do the same to her, pressing his large palm to the back of her waist. The tip of her nose is cold when she presses herself against his chest and he shuts his eyes, breathing in her scent while keeping her cradled against his chest.
Rukia smells clean and fresh, like sunshine. The smell of something faintly floral- the smell of spring and cut grass clings to her. Ichigo knows her routine well. Her mornings are usually spent outside on the training grounds training the new recruits and joining them on their morning run before she tends to the pile of paperwork in the office. There are ink smudges that stand out against the paleness of her skin, dotting her wrist. Rukia is always too impatient to wait for the ink to dry completely before getting on with the rest of her report and too careless to notice when ink blots appear on her hands.
He glances at her white haori and shihakusho, feeling a sudden swell of guilt at the thought of him not being there with her this morning. "Why didn't you wake me up? I'm your lieutenant. Where you go, I follow, remember?"
Rukia sighs as she head-butts him on his chest lightly, squeezing him tighter in turn. "I was going to but then you looked so peaceful in your sleep. You were still snoring away when I got up. I didn't have the heart to so I decided to let you sleep in. Figured that you needed it after last night."
Ichigo quirks an eyebrow at that, surprised. "You're not mad at me?"
"No? Unless… you want me to be mad at you?"
"No!" Ichigo replies quickly, almost biting his tongue by mistake in his rush. He definitely doesn't want Rukia to be mad at him, doesn't want to be made to sleep in the guestroom when there is a queen-sized bed in the master bedroom with his wife lying in it, and he definitely doesn't want to be made to abstain from their night time activities. He would miss the snuggling too much. "It's just a little… weird."
Rukia looks up at him with her eyebrows furrowed. "What do you actually remember from last night?"
Ichigo grunts, his eyes squinting from the effort as he tries to recall what happened the night before. "I remember… being invited to go for drinks by Renji. He insisted on going to a particular bar in Rukongai, apparently it's one of the best. Ikkaku, Yumichika, Shuuhei and even Izuru decided to join us. And—"
"And the six of you proceeded to get so drunk that the bartender wanted to kick your sorry asses out, which obviously meant that you guys thought it was the perfect time to start acting rowdy and inciting a bar fight… all while barely able to stand up straight!"
Ichigo colours in embarrassment. "Rukia—"
"Oh no, don't you Rukia me," she tuts, poking a bony finger at his chest, "You're lucky that Rangiku happened to be in the neighbourhood. The bar's one of her favourite. She couldn't stick around to bail you guys out, but she saw enough and texted me to come get you."
Ichigo's face turns ashen as his memory slowly trickles back to him. Not all of it naturally, but certain parts of it he remembers, the crying part that is. Alcohol- too much of it, tends to make him uncharacteristically emotional to the point of being weepy. He swallows thickly at the sight of the slow-curling smirk on Rukia's lips. That is not a good sign. He groans, hiding his face in the crook of her shoulders, "Please tell me I didn't do anything too embarrassing."
Rukia snorts, "Too late for that now! You were so drunk last night. What didn't you do?"
"I think I need to lie down for this."
"You big baby," teases Rukia. Her touch is gentle as she removes herself from his embrace, wrapping her hand in his much larger one. Ichigo immediately curls his hand in hers, interlocking their fingers. "Lucky for you, I already took leave for both of us this afternoon."
Ichigo sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "What will I do without you?"
Rukia wrinkles her nose, making a face at his sudden show of affection as she smooths at her hair. "Come on; let's get you back into bed."
She guides him slowly up the stairs and towards the bedroom. At her behest and sharp elbow nudges, Ichigo begrudgingly shifts some of his weight over, throwing an arm across her shoulder to use her as a crutch while the other hand keeps his grip on the railings. He keeps his pace slow. The last thing he wants is for him to miss a step and tumble down, dragging Rukia with him.
"Go and lie down," she tells him once they are inside. "I'll join you after I change."
Ichigo nods, ambling over to the queen-sized bed tucked at the other side of the room somewhat unsteadily. He heaves a sigh of relief when his back touches the soft mattress and relaxes, focuses on making himself comfortable in bed while waiting for Rukia.
She reappears barely minutes later, dressed in a pale lavender kimono and her hands washed clean of ink stains. The smile that she wears is soft and tender as she drapes the covers over him, wholly unprepared for him to snake an arm at her waist, pulling her towards him instead. She gives a shriek of surprise, uncharacteristically giggly and high-pitched while he growls, tackling her to bed.
"Ichigo," she warns as she squirms against his hold, "Stop fooling around and behave! I'll join you in a second. I have to do the blinds first."
With a loud groan, Ichigo lets go; loosening his grip on her but his pout is petulant. Rukia rolls her eyes at that. She teases him a bit more for acting needy and playing up the role of the invalid when he's just recovering from a hangover which is coincidentally 100% his fault.
He bears it all with surprisingly good humour, only chiding at her to go before he changes his mind.
Rukia begrudgingly straightens herself, shuffling over to the windows to draw the curtains, blocking the afternoon sun out and Ichigo gives a lazy stretch on the bed, purring with satisfaction at the now visibly dimmer surroundings. This is the perfect time and place for a quick nap. The only thing missing right now is the warmth of Rukia's tiny body pressed close to him.
"Move," she says and Ichigo obediently does so, rolling over to give her space so she can join him on her side of the bed. She settles into her spot, diving under the covers to join him. She lies on her side, facing him and he does the same. He leans into her touch, moaning lightly when she cups at his cheek. Her skin is cooler than his and her reiryouku washes over him like a balmy mint, easing his nausea and throbbing headache when she uses healing kido on him.
"You're still being unusually nice to me."
His smile turns into a grimace when her fingers press down hard, poking at his cheeks. The soft green glow of the kido spell is the only source of light in the dark room and it lights up her face, highlighting the curve of her apple cheeks and the mischievous gleam in her eyes. The tone of her voice dips as she shoots him a look.
"Am I not always nice?"
At the sight of her narrowed eyes, Ichigo clears his throat, turning his gaze to the wall behind her while wrapping his arms tighter around her. "That's a trick question. I am not falling for that. I have my right to remain silent and I am invoking it."
Amused, Rukia chuckles, but allows Ichigo to pull her deeper into his arms. Her warmth sidles closer until their noses brush against each other and Rukia can see amber the flecks in his warm brown eyes. Her other hand cards fingers through his bright hair, making him hum as her fingers dig lightly against this scalp.
"Seriously, what was the last thing you remembered from last night?"
Ichigo frowns, tucking her head under his chin. "I remember drinking with Renji and the others but I don't know how I ended up so drunk. I swear I didn't overdo it. It was a blur for the most part after that but then you… you showed up. I remember- Remember you leading me by the hand when we left the place."
"Anything else? What about what happened after we left the bar?"
"… Not particularly?"
"Ok," Rukia whispers, her hands reaching for Ichigo's and gripping them tightly. "Let me tell you exactly what happened when I got to the bar."
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The bar where Ichigo and his drinking buddies were spotted at is called The Flying Boar and widely regarded as one of the best despite its location in the districts of Rukongai. Known for the quality of the sake that they serve, the establishment is frequently visited by high-ranking officers in the Gotei 13, but remains just as popular with the local residents. Rangiku helpfully supplied her with the necessary information, directing her to it.
By the time she got there, a bar fight was already on the verge of breaking out. Tonight, the bar featured a heavy clientele of big burly men, muscled and easily towering over her, their body parts streaked with detailed and colourful inkwork, metal accessories glinting as they caught the light. No wonder Renji wanted to visit she thought, he would fit right in!
These angry men were rowdy. Those who weren't already aggressively growling at each other were glaring angrily at the two men who were embroiled in some sort of argument with the bartender. The men may have opted out of their Shinigami uniforms for the night but their hair colour or in Ikkaku's case, the obvious lack thereof of hair, made them stand out in the sea of red angry faces. She recognized Renji in a heartbeat just by the sight of his vibrant dishevelled red hair. It also helped that he was tall and loud.
The bartender who was also presumably the owner of the place got steadily huffier, his face redder and his grip on the counter tightened.
"Look! I told you! You are way too drunk to have another round. Now I don't want no trouble, which is why I'm tryna be nice here. Leave before you make a fool of yourself!"
"Oh yeah?" crowed Renji, swaying on his feet and words slurring, "Or what?"
He brought his fist down on the wooden counter as if to make a point but the gesture was hardly intimidating when he could barely keep himself standing upright. The bartender for one was not impressed as he sneered, cracking his knuckles loudly.
"Or I'll kick your sorry ass outta my bar!"
Rukia resisted the urge to face-palm, opting instead to bite on her tongue. Sober Renji has the unfortunate tendency of putting his foot in his mouth, but drunk Renji was worse and louder, with the aggressiveness of an angry Chihuahua.
Next to him, Izuru- the soft-spoken lieutenant from the Third Division was trying his best to talk Renji down, tugging at the sleeves of his alcohol-soaked kimono to hold him back before they invited more trouble. His eyes darted helplessly across the dimly lit surroundings, looking for support but to no avail. His best friend, Shuuhei was not too far away but lacked in any capacity to help out. He was slumped over the table fast asleep with his head cradled on one arm and empty bottles of sake littered around him. A faint trail of drool or perhaps some leftover trickle of sake clung at the corners of his mouth as he snored away, dead to the world and clueless about what was going on around him.
As the heavyweights from the Eleventh, both Yumichika and Ikkaku were surprisingly lucid, tipsy but not quite there yet- channelling their chaotic energy in full strength as they flitted across the corners of the bar, their footsteps impossibly light and expressions rendered uncommonly mischievous. They seemed to egging everyone else on and stealing drinks from angry men who were too busy shouting and shoving at each other to notice the theft.
They would be alright, Rukia mused. It was hardly the first time they got themselves involved with bar fights and stupid shenanigans while intoxicated. Renji and the others were just going to have to bail themselves out somehow. Between the five of them, they have a wealth of experience in avoiding capture and getting themselves out of sticky, intoxicated alcohol-induced situations. If not, whatever came as consequences in the morning would do the job.
Her plan was simple: grab Ichigo and get the hell out of here. Whatever repair bills that the bar owner was going to sue the Gotei 13 for; it sure as hell wasn't going to be the Thirteenth who's footing the bill! Their division was barely scraping by as it is, no thanks to Ichigo's knack of getting into trouble and the destructive nature of his powers.
Speaking of, where in the world is he? He couldn't be that difficult to spot with his hair.
"Hiccup- Why hello there, beautiful- Hiccup- I don't think I've seen you around h-here before."
The voice sounded familiar to her, albeit gruffer and huskier than usual. She tilted her face upwards, her violet eyes widening when she found herself face-to-face with her husband.
"Ichigo!"
"Y-Yo!"
He was drunk. Rukia knew as much from the way he was talking, how he seemed to be swaying even though he was just standing there. His cheeks were flushed red from the alcohol and his eyes were glazed. Feeling her eyes on him, he gave her a silly grin.
"How did you know my name? Wait, no, don't tell me. I know you. I've seen you somewhere before. Is this what they call Fate? Or have we met each other in a dream? I mean I can tell you about this guy named Shakespeare. He wrote some very pretty lines. I just never realized that— I mean, Shall I compare thee to a summer's day, thou art more lovely and fa—"
Rukia shook her head. She has never seen him like this before. She doubted he even knew where he was. How much did the idiot actually have to drink?
Regardless, this was not the time to spout poetry or sing praises of this strange Shakespeare man. Ichigo had talked about him enough when he was sober, miffed when she started tuning him off five minutes into his ramble about his favourite playwright.
She saw from the corner of her eyes the portly man making eye contact with the two burly men standing near the door and cursed softly. There was no time to lose. She grabbed Ichigo by the wrist, tugging him along as she hissed sharply, "You can tell me that later, right now we need to go!"
"Wait- what? Why? What's your hurry? You just got here! We should talk and get to know each other better."
Owing to the size difference between them, Rukia was jerked bodily back towards him when he refused to move. She huffed, blowing the stray bang off her eyes before muttering in exasperation, "Just how much did you drink? Are you seriously trying to put the moves on me?"
That idiot, she thought. They have only been married for twenty years. She splayed her fingers, letting the light catch on the silver band she wore. The design of her wedding ring was simple and classic. It wasn't adorned by polished stones or flawless diamonds, some might even say that the design was plain or as Yumichika would call it, uninspired (cue the hair toss) but Rukia wouldn't have it any other way. She treasured her wedding ring and it was the only hint of jewellery she would allow herself to keep whilst on duty.
For a Shinigami, jewelleries were frivolous and dangerous things. A sudden glimmer from a silver chain could give away your position in-hiding to the enemy and in every division, there's bound to be a cautionary tale somewhere, told by veterans to every bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Shinigami recruit who joined the ranks; a special kind of embarrassment reserved for Shinigamis who were wounded at the hands of their own vanity while engaging their opponent in battle. Ichigo concurred when he picked out the matching platinum bands. The token to their love and devotion to each other shouldn't get in the way during Hollow-hunting. He wouldn't want her to lose focus during a battle because she was too busy making sure the ring didn't get scratched and he definitely did not want her to feel guilty afterwards if she had accidentally damaged it during a fight.
The gleam of the wedding ring had the intended effect of sobering him up. She watched as Ichigo's eyes hardened, grin fading as his expression darkened.
"Y-You're married?" he croaked, suddenly sounding a lot less like the awkward flirt that he was and more like a kicked puppy.
"Yes! Took you long enough, you idiot! Now come on, let's go—"
Rukia reached out to grab his hand but Ichigo slapped it away. She hissed, retracting her outstretched hand. Why the nerve of that … idiot!
She can't believe that she's married to him!
"Ichigo," she tried again, forcing herself to keep her voice calm. The idiot was drunk after all and maybe if she tried to cajole him and talk to him nicely he'd come quietly with her. She nudged him on the side. "What's wrong, Ichigo? Why won't you come home with me?"
Wait—
She did a double take, suddenly unsure. Were those tears coming from his eyes? Was he crying? Actually crying?
"Renji!" Ichigo called out loudly, making her jump. "I-I wanna go home!"
Hearing his name called out, the redhead lumbered over being the good friend that he is. Rukia snorted. Renji was barely able to navigate his way past the obstacle course of people and furniture in the room. Behind him, Izuru gave a loud audible sigh of relief, visibly relaxed and the bartender's eyebrows looked significantly less furrowed.
Rukia glared when the oaf almost bumped into her.
"Oh sorry, my bad, Rukia. Didn't see you there."
Her eye twitched. She may be small but she wasn't about to just let this go. Drunk Renji or not, who does he think he is! Her elbow was there in an instant, jabbing him in the gut, reminding him that he shouldn't be taking her lightly just because of her height and size. It was a good thing that she decided to leave Sode no Shirayuki behind. She might just accidentally create an ice sculpture of him then and there. Just wait until she tells Nii-sama on him!
Renji spluttered, coughing loudly. He pressed a hand against the side of his stomach, rubbing it tenderly. "Oof! Damn your bony elbows, Rukia. Why are you here? Did you hear about the good time we're having and decided to join us?"
Rukia snorted, shaking her head in disapproval. "Speak for yourself, Renji."
She did not see the appeal in self-destructive habits. If Renji wanted to endanger the budget of his own division, by all means! Nii-sama would see to it that the money is deducted from his monthly wages, but leave her Ichigo and the Thirteenth out of it!
A sudden fit of hiccups erupted from Ichigo, drawing both of their attention back to him. Renji clapped a hand to Ichigo's back, eyebrows knotted in concern as he asked, "What's-s wrong, Ichigo?"
"Renji, I don't even know what to s-say any more. The prettiest woman in the world just walked into the bar. A-And it turns out she's… she's married!" Ichigo spat out the word with vitriol, beating at his chest with tightly clenched fists, "That lucky bastard!"
Renji arched his brows, his interest piqued. "A pretty lady? Where? You better not be lying!"
The room was spinning after a quick turn of his head to look at the surroundings. He quickly steadied himself by grabbing at a nearby table, propping himself up. He didn't see anyone matching those descriptions. The only people he saw were men- surly, drunk and angry men who had it out for people like him when he was just trying to have a good time. That and a very pissed off Rukia who was standing beside them of course, but the midget didn't count, for obvious reasons.
"You liar! There's no one here like that!"
"Am not! She's there!"
"Where?" screeched Renji as he scowled, craning his neck as he looked at the crowd again.
"Right there, stupid! Are you blind too? And shhh! Not so loud, she can hear you!"
Renji shook his head, eyes squinting. "I really don't see—"
"Oh for crying out loud!" Ichigo huffed, swiping at the tears running down his face roughly, "She's right there!" He sniffled as he pointed his index finger at Rukia, the other hand hiding his face in embarrassment.
Renji's eyes followed the direction that Ichigo was pointing at to see Rukia, standing with arms crossed and tapping her feet impatiently, fiercely scowling, her chin jutting upwards in response to his look of confusion. Realization dawned and he couldn't help but burst out in laughter.
Rukia's face coloured as his chuckles grew louder, drawing the attention of everyone in the bar, including the bartender who immediately stopped whatever he was doing to glare daggers at Renji, eyes squinting at their direction in suspicion. Embarrassed by the sudden burst of unwanted attention, she planted a swift kick to his shin, finally prompting him to stop.
Renji gave a yelp of pain. Scowling and nursing his wounded leg, he retaliated by reaching over and smacking Ichigo hard at the back of his head without warning, making the other man cry out from a mixture of pain and surprise.
"Ow! What the fuck, Renji?" Ichigo turned on him, scowling as he rubbed at the sore spot.
"You idiot!" said Renji, groaning as he pressed a hand to his throbbing head. For a second there, he thought there were two Ichigos. He really shouldn't be moving that quickly. "That's not— For the love of God, just how drunk are you? That's Rukia!"
"R-Ru-ki-a," repeated Ichigo dumbly. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, feeling another rush of sadness surging through him as he choked, "Fuck! Renji, even her name sounds pretty. I can't! I hope the lucky bastard appreciates her and knows just how lucky he is to have her. I swear some guys just have all the luck in the world! Renji, why did she have to be married?"
Rukia didn't even know whether to laugh or to cry at the moment. Granted it was very much at the expense of her poor inebriated husband and Ichigo has always shown her how much he loved and cared for her while he was sober, but this was wildly entertaining to watch. She was having too much fun to stop now.
Renji rolled his eyes, sighing loudly as he pressed a hand to his face. He shot Rukia a look, mouthing is he for real? Rukia's response to that was a careless shrug as she tried her best to keep her giggles reined in, trying her best not to dissolve into fits of giggle. She only wished she had brought along her phone to record the whole thing. It would have served as such good blackmail material.
"No, you idiot! Ichigo, don't you get it, stupid? That woman? She's Rukia- your— No! Stop crying! Why are you crying?"
But his howls and shouts for Ichigo to stop crying didn't make any difference at all. Her mournful husband was so distraught by the idea that he would never have her- the mysterious woman he saw at the bar, his predestined love-at-first-sight, that he proceeded to bawl, lamenting his fate.
Rukia couldn't hold it in anymore, clutching her belly as tears streamed down her face while Renji tried his best to placate his sobbing friend, offering to introduce him to better-looking women when he was sober (his voice trailing off quietly as Rukia fixed him with her signature Kuchiki glare). But Ichigo would have none of it. He was inconsolable and nothing that Renji said or did was able to convince him to calm down.
"You know what?!"
Renji suddenly raised his two hands up in defeat, giving the universal sign of surrender as he peeled himself away. He shook his head, clasping his hand on Rukia's shoulder as he turned to leave.
Rukia quirked an eyebrow, wrinkling her nose from where he leaned in to touch her. Standing this close to him, all she could smell was the stench of alcohol and grease from his favourite pub food. Renji didn't know the meaning of the word 'moderation' when it came to fried chicken, claiming that they were just too 'finger-licking-good' for him to ever consider holding back. Upon closer inspection, there were oil stains on his kimono, no doubt where he wiped his oily fingers when he had to set down the chicken hastily.
She arched an eyebrow. "Where are you going?"
"I had an epip- an epith— ahh—"
"An epiphany?" Rukia suggested with an impish grin, finally deciding to put her friend out of his misery.
"Yeah, that one! I realized that Ichigo is not my problem! This is too much work and clearly beyond my scope of expertise and above my pay grade! I should step aside and let a Captain, or rather, more specifically, his captain handle it."
Rukia's eyes widened in alarm as Renji turned, releasing his hold on her shoulder and moved towards the bar instead.
"Wait, Renji! You can't— He's too heavy! I can't carry him back by myself! Renji!" she hissed, "Get back here!"
"In sickness and in health. Till death do you apart," taunted the redhead in a sing-song voice, without a backward glance at the pair. Ambling his way over, he shouted to the bartender again, "Oi! You there! Get us another round! This one's on me!"
Ichigo's mood seemed to perk up at the mention of more booze and he turned, wiping at his tears with the back of his palm. His eyes trailed after Renji as he straightened himself again, seemingly about to join him at the bar front.
Rukia could feel her eyes twitching. No! There was to be no more drinking! Everyone here has clearly had enough!
"Wait!"
Her hand shot out, grabbing Ichigo by his arm sleeve and tugged at it urgently. He whirled around, giving her a blank stare. His face was still blotchy from the mix of alcohol and crying, voice gruff as he sullenly mumbled, "What do you want?"
"I-I—" she swallowed thickly, chewing at her bottom lip— "I-I can take you to your wife!"
"M-My wife?"
She nodded, biting at the inside of her cheek before chancing a glance at Ichigo. When she saw his face, she unwittingly heaved a sigh of relief. Wonder and awe gleamed in his eyes and a moony smile settled on his lips. She knew she had him hooked.
Rukia mentally gave herself a pat on the back for her quick thinking. The lie rolled off her tongue naturally and came as easy as breathing. One might even say that she was inspired.
Ichigo gulped, running a hand through his messy hair. "Wow! You mean- I'm m-married? I have a wife?!"
"Uh-huh!" she beamed, muttering under her breath sarcastically, "She's standing right in front of you."
Ichigo was too in awe and overjoyed to pay any attention to what Rukia was saying. The news overwhelmed him. The grin that he wore was proud and adorably exhilarated as he shouted, "Hey Renji! Did you hear that? I'm married! I have a wife!"
Renji didn't have the presence of mind to listen to anything Ichigo was saying, much less respond to the enthusiastic wave of excitement radiating from the latter. Things had turned violent on his end. All hell literally broke loose when he made the mistake of trying to punch the heavyset bartender, possibly in a misguided attempt to intimidate the bartender after the man refused to serve him.
The keyword here was 'trying'.
Renji had swung his fist hard but it missed its target by a mile. Rukia winced from the second-hand embarrassment, fighting the urge to face-palm for the nth time of the day since she got here. Drunk Renji didn't have the best aim and he clearly wasn't in peak performance level. The bartender saw the attack coming and nimbly ducked, so the fist simply sailed across the air harmlessly.
Though unharmed, the bartender's menacing glower meant that he was not going to let the slight go unchallenged. With a sharp whistle and a harsh cry for backup, two burly men came charging in, armed with wooden bats and wearing helmets. Rukia frowned at the armoured bouncers' appearance but before she could say something to hurry Ichigo along, something else grabbed her attention.
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"AHHHHHHHHH!"
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Izuru's high-pitched scream startled her, jerking her attention back to Renji. His attack may have missed but momentum had propelled the force of his punch forward and it didn't stop until it found a target. One of the innocent patrons, who had the misfortune of standing too close to Renji, went down, clutching the side of his face in agony.
Someone- either Yumichika or Ikkaku if she had to take a guess, gave an enthusiastic battle cry, cheering Renji on like a hooligan from the side as the injured man groaned in pain. His friends helped him to get up from the hard wooden floor, but the damage was done. Blood- vividly scarlet and fresh dribbled down the side of his mouth as the poor man clutched at his bruised jaw. With a hard cough, he spat out a broken tooth.
"Fuck, man! You knocked my tooth out!"
"Y-Yeah! Well how about I knock out the other one out, just to make it even for you?"
"Why you little!"
Faster than she could blink, tables were flipped over and bar stools doubled as lethal weapons, both as defensive shields and deadly throwing objects. The sound of glasses smashing and bottles being knocked over followed, tumbling one after the other like dominoes.
"BAR FIGHT!"
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Intoxicated and incensed, foul-tempered men the size of a tank rushed at each other. They tackled each other to the slippery sake-wet floor, swearing and growling loudly as they grappled- kicking, punching, clawing, and in some cases, even biting at each other. There was no such thing as fighting dirty- no rules against ganging up on a man or hitting him under the belt when chaos reigned. Rukia winced as a man tugged sharply at another's long ponytail, almost tearing hair off his scalp with sheer brute force.
She eyed everything going on around her with alarm, her baser fight or flight instincts waging war within her but Ichigo was unaffected by all the commotion, barely batting an eye at the shrieks and squeals. His attention was focused on her instead. Excitement burning in golden amber eyes as he grabbed her by her arms. A stream of question tumbled out, barely giving Rukia time to answer.
"Well, you have to tell me more about her- my wife. Who is she? Where is she? Will you take me to see her now?"
"Sure!"
That was the first piece of good news she has heard since she got here. She reached for his hand, interlocking their fingers. "You should hold on tight to me. Wouldn't want you to get lost."
Next to her, Ichigo nodded enthusiastically, thinking nothing of it as his hand slipped into hers. "Please take me to her. I think I miss her already—" his grip on her hand tightened as he gave a loud yawn, stifling it with the back of his other hand— "Don't get me wrong. Drinking with Renji and the others was fun but I think I'm ready to go home now."
"Come on—" she gave their linked hands a sharp tug, pulling him along as they exited the building— "let's go home!"
.
.
"And then we got home, you helped me change into my bed clothes and I slept it off?" Ichigo asks, hiding his face in the crook of Rukia's shoulder.
She laughs at the hopeful tone in his voice, pecking him on the lips.
"Not quite. Brace yourself," she sighs, giving a sly grin as she draws closer to whisper into his ear conspiratorially, "first I had to get you to agree to let me undress you."
"WHAT?"
.
.
It started off as a community outreach programme spearheaded by Ichigo with financial support from two of the Four Noble Houses of Seireitei and the implicit permission from Kyoraku-Soutaichou to introduce law and order to the lower districts of Rukongai. As the Saviour of Soul Society and the Three Realms, Ichigo's popularity among the Rukongai residents was undeniable while his bloodline and raw power appealed to the nobles, many willingly donated money to the cause to bring facilities and amenities such as running water, staffed and government-funded orphanages and health clinics to every district in Rukongai. It was a thankless job and the process was anything but easy.
But Ichigo is Ichigo- an unstoppable force of stubbornness and determination when he finds himself properly motivated. Bulldozing obstacles was what he did best. He inspired others to want change, to step up to become worthy of fighting alongside him, to lend their swords to his cause and carry his banner.
It has taken much yelling and screaming between haughty nobles during meetings, a sizable amount of time spent pouring over proposals and burning the midnight oil to painstakingly make sure that there were no loopholes that would allow exploitation of the people they were helping. But 20 years down the line, what was once the lower districts of Rukongai- unseemly and rundown, nothing more than slums and cesspits where crime runs rampant, has been radically transformed and nowadays, barely recognizable.
These days even the lowest of the Rukongai slums boasted of clean water and affordable housing. The Fourth sent out healers on a bi-weekly basis and those who were identified as possessing higher than average reiatsu were given lessons on how to control it, taught how to read and write in remedial classes, schooled in history and given etiquette lessons to lessen the social and educational disparity between them and their more well-to-do peers when they enrol in the Academy.
A mention of a midnight stroll in the lower Rukongai districts no longer brought to mind the idea of masked bandits and starving children turning to a life of crime in exchange for a warm belly and protection. It was instead calming and quiet, with trees planted on the sides of well-cobbled paths. The streets were cleaned regularly and the streetlights glowed white and bright, bringing light to their surroundings.
.
It was early spring in Soul Society and life was slowly but surely returning to the surrounding nature. Above her, the arching branches of the nameless trees swayed when a gentle breeze passed through, the sound of leaves and budding flowers softly rustling as they shook. It was still somewhat chilly for a stroll but Ichigo's body was warm and his reiatsu hummed close to hers, as familiar as her favourite childhood lullaby as they walked hand in hand, side by side across the quiet and mostly empty streets. Her hand has always fitted so nicely in his and she let the magic of the moment wash over her, smiling as they made their way home.
District 18 was not that much further away from Seireitei that she couldn't cover the distance with a drunk Ichigo in tow. He was for the most part quiet, contemplative almost, only piping up every now and then to remark on the brightness of the moon, how beautiful and quiet everything was compared to the hustle and bustle of Seireitei during the day. Rukia humoured him as best as she could, gripping onto their joined hands tightly.
"Is my wife as pretty as you are, Rukia?"
Rukia snorted, quietly chuckling instead of replying as she shook her head, her footsteps steady and unfaltering as she walked on ahead with her eyes set on the distance.
"What's so funny?"
"I just never realized that you're such a smooth talker."
"But that's the truth," Ichigo grumbled, "you're pretty and kind and selfless and—"
Rukia could feel her ears burning, her skin prickling with heat at his praises. She walked a little faster, dipping her head low to hide her embarrassment as she quipped, "Jeez! You can tell all that just from our first meeting?"
"But I told you, Rukia," he huffed, pouting at the nonchalant tone of voice she was projecting. Rukia wasn't taking this seriously enough when he was being sincere with her. He stopped in his tracks, forcing her to do the same. "Rukia, I'm serious! I know this isn't the first time we met. I feel like I know you from somewhere."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair and tousling it as he swore, fixing her with a deep stare, his eyebrows furrowed and his lower lip quivering. "I just can't remember. I wish I did."
Rukia tugged at his hand again. "It's late. Come on, let's get you home and into bed. You'll feel better in the morning."
.
Home is the Kuchiki Estate or more specifically, the unassuming two-storey building separated by a small running stream from the main Kuchiki compound. There was a garden that featured cherry blossom trees and a smattering of evergreens amid other flowering bushes in front of the house. Well-tended to by the Kuchiki gardeners, the foliage of the garden easily obscured the view of the building from the main compound, granting the couple privacy though they were still technically living in the same estate as her brother. In a month or two, the flowers would be in full bloom and Rukia looked forward to spending her evenings with Ichigo in the garden, sitting under the cherry blossom trees, having a picnic or hanami if the weather was good. The two of them shielded from the sun under the shades, simply enjoying each other's company.
A red wooden bridge arched before them, and she carefully guided Ichigo across it. Their footsteps were light and nimble as they crossed to avoid waking up the servants and possibly even Nii-sama who would have long since retired for the night.
"We're home."
Their humble abode has a distinctly western feature to it and many of the furniture inside- the refrigerator and mattress bed amongst other things, reflected Ichigo's overall preference of modern amenities. It didn't take much for her to get on board with the idea. The mattress bed for example, did wonders for her back when Ichigo was in a particularly frisky mood.
Ah, she shook her head clear of the thoughts. Ichigo was drunk. It wouldn't do to have her entertaining such ideas when he didn't even recognize her. It would be wrong for her to take advantage of him in such a state.
Ichigo stopped dead in his tracks as they approached their house, refusing to budge no matter how hard she tugged. She huffed, rolling her eyes. Now what?
"What's wrong, Ichigo? I thought you were excited to go home and meet your wife?"
"I am!" he insisted, scowling fiercely. "I'm just… not ready."
Rukia narrowed her eyes in confusion. "Not ready for what?"
"To see her of course," said Ichigo with a groan, gesturing at his clothes. "Look at me! I can't see her looking like this!" He took a sniff that his stained and wrinkled kimono, grimacing and making a face after the inspection. "And I stink too."
"Awww, are you feeling shy?" Rukia teased, enjoying the sudden flush that stained his cheeks as he intelligently muttered at her to shut up.
"Don't worry," she said, reassuring him gently as she slid the front door open. "It'd be fine. I'll talk to her. I am sure she doesn't mind. Now don't forget to take your shoes off when you go in."
Ichigo did as he was told, taking a tentative step into the house. The lights flickered on at the press of a switch and he squinted at the sudden brightness. Rukia watched as he flitted from room to room impatiently. The noisy clatter of his indoor slippers echoed as he crossed the front entrance to enter the living room and kitchen, seemingly in search of something, eyebrows furrowing deeper with every passing second.
She frowned, shutting the doors behind her firmly and locking it. With that done, she simply followed the sound of his noisy footsteps, trailing after him as he hurried up the staircase, taking two steps at a time in his haste.
"Slow down," she chided, shaking her head, "You'll fall over and hurt yourself!"
Rukia has never heard of anyone attempting to shunpo while inebriated but as if to stand as a living testament to his freak-of-nature powers and stubbornness, Ichigo did just that, ignoring her admonishments as he quickly became a blur of movements, flitting from room to room upstairs.
She scowled. She swore if he threw up because of it, he's cleaning up the mess himself!
The doors to the master bedroom, the guestroom and the spare bathroom upstairs were wide open by the time she got upstairs. In comparison to Ichigo's heavy footsteps, her own were nimble and quiet. Ichigo barely seemed to have heard it as he stood in the centre of their shared bedroom, pacing and scowling deeply as his eyes darted from corner to corner.
At the sound of the door shutting, he whirled around to face Rukia.
"Rukia, where is she?"
"Where is who?"
"My wife," said Ichigo, a hint of his frustration and anger creeping into his voice, "You told me that she was going to be here. But you lied, there's no one here!"
Rukia rolled her eyes, reaching out and standing on tiptoes to press a hand to his forehead. "Just how much did you drink tonight? You aren't normally like this. Do you need me to ask Isane if she can send a healer over? Why don't I help you change into something more comfortable—"
Ichigo clenched his fist, distancing himself from Rukia. He purposefully moved away, acting as though her touch had burnt him when she tried to reach for him. "Stay away from me!"
Rukia flinched, her lips pressing into a thin line. The sudden sharpness in his tone as he rejected her touch hurt, but she tried not to let it show. Ichigo was not his usual self. She shouldn't hold it against him.
"Talk to me, Ichigo," she said instead, "tell me what's bothering you."
"I-I have a wife and you-you're married, Rukia—" His breath hitched as their eyes met. His eyes were golden, amber flecks showing. There was tenderness in his gaze, a strange gleam of awe- caught in a dream that he never wanted to wake up from, when he looked at her— "Fuck! I-I love your eyes."
He splayed his palm, inching closer as if he was going to touch her. Rukia leaned in expectantly. But just as they were about to touch, he thought better. He snatched his hand back, aghast at his weakness and pointedly averted his gaze, breaking eye contact. He released a shuddering breath, clearing his throat awkwardly. "W-We shouldn't," he murmured, "T-This isn't right. Um… A-Anyway, I-I'll see myself out."
Rukia stood there dumbfounded as Ichigo trudged past her, the smell of booze still strong and clinging to him. It wasn't until she heard the sound of his footsteps going down the stairs did she realize that the idiot was serious- seriously drunk and stupid to boot.
"Wait!" she shouted, chasing after him. Her voice was shrill and her tone urgent. She was well past caring if anyone woke up because of her. "Stop! Stop! Ichigo, get back here you idiot! Where do you think you're going in the middle of the night?"
"To find my wife," answered Ichigo solemnly, his hand resting on the doorknob. Rukia recognized the firm set of his shoulder and the grim line of his mouth as he pursed his lips together, looking fierce and determined.
"You idiot! She's right here!" Rukia laughed, stomping her feet rather childishly. This man, she thought to herself, exasperated and just the slightest bit, amused by his antics- he was going to be the death of her someday. Just how stupid can he get?
"Don't you get it? It's me! I'm your wife!"
The change that settled across Ichigo's features was best explained as comical. His jaw went slack, eyes widening in disbelief as he spluttered, "W-What?"
Rukia face-palmed, truly torn between grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him hard and kissing him for being the clueless but lovable idiot that he is. She pointed at the ring on her ring finger. "I'm married. To you! Look at your own hand, at your ring finger; don't you see a ring on it?"
At her prompting, Ichigo's attention fell to the silver band on his finger and he held it to the light, bringing it to his eye-level.
"Look at your ring! Now, look at mine! Don't they look like they're a pair, like they belong next to each other?"
Ichigo's expression scrunched up as he peered and squinted at the two rings, making comparisons. At length, a silly grin broke out on his face. His fingers were trembling when he finally turned his gaze away from them. Rukia would never forget the look on his face. He had stars in his eyes when he looked at her, breathing hope and trepidation in equal mix.
Her own breath hitched, weak for the way that he looked at her- like she is the sun and the moon and the stars combined, like she is his everything. The way he smiled at her made her feel beautiful and loved. He looked like a man who's still hopelessly and inexplicably head-over-heels in love with her, even after all these years together.
"You're my wife. Rukia is my wife," he murmured, still in shock at the revelation, "I'm married to you. To Rukia. You're my Rukia."
"Yes, yes, and yes to all of the above," answered Rukia with a good-natured roll of her eyes, lips curling into a watery smile of her own to match the one that Ichigo wore. She never has to doubt that this man (idiotic, brash, too-stubborn-for-his-own-good, needy; kind, loyal, sincere and almost certainly a sad drunk) loves her, simply for being her. She loves him so much.
"Rukia—" Ichigo's arms were outstretched and curving at her as he made his way towards her.
"Hold it! Not one step closer."
There was suddenly a fresh coat of hurt in his eyes as he was forced to keep his distance from her. His frown was deep and his fists clenched by his sides. His lip twitched. All he wanted was a hug from her. How heartless and cruel she must be to deny him even that!
"No buts, Ichigo. You're not touching me until you shower! You reek!"
"But- but afterwards?" He fidgeted, wringing his hands, pouting. "Afterwards you'd let me get into bed with you? We-We can cuddle?"
Rukia gave a sigh, resigned to the fact that the man that everyone thought of as fearless and godlike (almost) on the battlefield could be rendered into such a state, so embarrassingly needy for her.
"Yes. We can cuddle."
.
It's a good thing that she loves his cuddles just as much. Not that she would ever tell him to his face of course.
.
.
.
"I'm an idiot," said Ichigo with a groan, hiding his face in the pillows.
Rukia's peals of laughter are light and breezy as are her kisses as she tugs the pillows away from him to press her lips to his face, kissing him gently on his cheeks and his lips. "Maybe. But you're my idiot. Did you honestly not recognize me? At all?"
Ichigo looks away, nodding tersely. He feels guilty. Rukia is his most important person and he can't even think of anything that would ever make him forget about her. He genuinely doesn't know how it happened. Maybe it really was just too much alcohol. But he is not sold on the idea. He paced himself while drinking and he hasn't allowed a drinking game to get out of hand since that time Rukia banished him to the guestroom for a week.
"Stop that."
"Stop what?"
Rukia presses her forehead against his. "You're feeling guilty and you need to stop. I'm sure you learned your lesson well enough not to repeat it again."
Renji certainly isn't going to be dragging him to bar-hop for a while. Nii-sama made sure of that, suspending him from field duty until further notice and deducting a sizable chunk from his monthly pay to pay for the damages.
Ichigo nods, yawning and barely able to keep his eyes open any longer. Sleep tugs at him though he does his best to resist. There is much that he still needs to ask Rukia, much behind the mystery of his sudden amnesia. He turns to his side, determined to talk but the words will not come. He is only able to press a kiss to Rukia sleepily, missing her lips to land on the tip of her nose instead, making her giggle.
"Sleep," Rukia tells him, running her hand up and down his arm soothingly, "I'm right here. We can talk more when you wake up."
He grunts. He curls himself around her and wrapping his arms around her tightly. With his eyes shut, he hears her chuckling, feels her fingers running through his hair before she leans in to press a kiss to his forehead- chastely and gently.
As he drifts off, he thinks to himself that he really must be the luckiest person in the world- no, the luckiest man across all the realms. Here, with Rukia in his arms, warm and snuggly under the blankets, he can't think of a better way to spend his days. He reaches for her hand in the dark, interlocking their fingers. He has Rukia and the bond between them is unbreakable. No matter what happens, he will never let go.
She is home.
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.
"Substance F82B," announces Mayuri monotonously as he speaks into his microphone. There is a vial of lavender-coloured liquid in his hand. He gives it a shake, examining the clear contents under the light. "in-vivo study test subject: Kurosaki Ichigo. Result of test: failure."
Things have changed since the war ended. For starters, there is an ethical committee, chaired by the Captain Commander, comprising of the Sixth Division Captain and those troublesome women from the Shinigami Women's Association. These days, he has to go to extreme lengths to keep his side projects, what the committee claims to be covert operations, under wraps because the committee can launch investigations on his research if they suspect that his scientific experiments is infringing on 'human rights'.
At the monthly reviews, if anyone so much as deems a project even the slightest bit suspicious, they would do more probing to the extent of questioning his subordinates and going through his research notes, ultimately pulling his funding if they deemed it necessary. Good help is hard to find because Mayuri can never be sure if these underlings are being installed in his division by the committee as spies. They have effectively stunted the progress of his research and halted the progress of Science.
He grits his teeth, clenching his fists in anger. He blames it all on Kurosaki Ichigo. He rued the day the busybody do-gooder ever breached the walls of Seireitei. If that ryoka hadn't showed up to rescue the Kuchiki woman and saved the world (once, or maybe twice- who's really keeping count these days?), endearing himself to the public with his heroic antics, stirring up all this talks about Reformation and change, creating that accursed ethical committee, he would still be doing what he was doing, dissecting Quincy bodies because he can, obliterating villages in some unknown lower Rukongai district because no one would bat an eye or notice their disappearance. Everything would just stay the way it was and he wouldn't find his every move scrutinised, his research proposals rejected and the funding to his projects jeopardised.
Revenge is a dish best served cold and Mayuri thought long and hard about what would be the perfect revenge for him, the one thing that he could use to hurt that thrice-be-damned Kurosaki Ichigo. One night when he was reviewing old data and past experiments carefully in the safety and comforts of his own personal laboratory, inspiration struck.
He realized that he still possessed the remnants of the silvery white goo he has managed to salvage from what he dubbed the reishi snakes. He thought back to the incident a few decades ago, when everyone's memory of Captain Kuchiki Rukia has been erased, her own included, except for the then Substitute Shinigami, Kurosaki Ichigo. A sadistic grin curled on his face as he eagerly got to his feet, gathering his equipment. He came up with a plan worthy of his diabolical genius.
Inspired by the events or rather the chaos generated during it, Mayuri decided to study the residual goo, combining his new data with existing information on the Memory Hollow. His hard work paid off. Substance F82B has been painstakingly extracted and modified from its base material. The new and improved serum is designed to have the opposite effect, causing the test subject to forget everything that is dearest to them.
Ichigo's worth of self, Mayuri deduced was based and linked to his pride of being a Shinigami and his powers. That must therefore be what he finds dearest and most important to him. If he were to have the memory of all that taken away from him, forgetting who he is (or rather, what he is)— Mayuri cackled, then the Thirteenth Division lieutenant would definitely lose his mind at his newfound surroundings and that would cause him to lash out and attack indiscriminately.
He can just about imagine the fall from grace Kurosaki Ichigo would be spiralling into. The public would no doubt be outraged and upset at the thought of being attacked by their own hero and saviour. Ichigo would be denounced and labelled as Public Enemy No. 1. In short, chaos would erupt and Gotei 13 would have to announce a state of emergency and bring back the power structure of the government in the old days to ensure stability and quiet the voices of dissent.
It would be glorious.
That ryoka would finally have a taste of his own medicine. Now, he would know what it feels like to have everything he held dear and found joy in turned against him, to have it all ripped apart and taken away.
With his serum made, Mayuri bided his time, discretely keeping track of his target's movements and the daily going-on's in the Thirteenth Division, going so far as to install surveillance cameras and listening devices in the barracks. He struck gold, practically rubbing his hands in glee when he heard that his target and the baboon lieutenant from the Sixth would be going out for drinks in the Flying Boar.
His plan was set into motion and last night, he trailed after Ichigo and his drinking buddies from some distance away. It wasn't hard to follow them with their loud voices and loud hair, but he made sure that no one from the Gotei 13 would be able to recognize him. His disguise for the night featured a long blue cloak, the collars drawn up to hide the lower part of his face and he had for the occasion, decided against wearing his strange hat, opting to hide his colourful hair under a wide-brimmed cowboy hat instead. The reiatsu-dampening device on his wrist was a failsafe even though he was 99.999% sure that Ichigo and his merry gang of drunk idiots wouldn't be able to recognize his reiatsu anyway. He had calculated all the risks and acted accordingly to minimise them.
His plan was perfect and he wanted his revenge so badly that nothing short of Death itself would stop him now.
When they entered the bar called the Flying Boar (Mayuri snorted- boars don't fly; everyone knows that), he followed suit, ducking into the bar right behind them. He sat near the doors, surveying his dingy surroundings with a sneer while Ichigo and the others eagerly crowded the bar front, ordering drinks.
The men were relaxed enough after the first few rounds of drink that they let their guard down. Mayuri's eyes were gleaming and missed nothing from the shadows as he studied their faces, watching their every move like he was the hunter and they, his prey. When Ichigo had his back turned, the others too busy talking to each other or drinking to even care, he got up, sliding past them unnoticed as though he was just going to the counter to order a drink. A quick sleight of hand and everyone, including the scary-looking bartender was none the wiser. None of them noticed anything amiss when he added the contents of the vial into Ichigo's drink. Ichigo swallowed the contents in his sake cup right in front of his very eyes. Mayuri was practically jumping up and down with glee as he returned to his seat, scarcely able to keep himself from running back to make sure he wasn't missing any of the action, but much to his disappointment, nothing happened.
Ichigo carried on laughing and drinking with his friends, getting progressively louder and drunker but there was no sign of him going into a panic frenzy caused by amnesia, no sign of him going berserk and wreaking havoc even as the night dragged on.
Mayuri was forced to conclude that though the serum seemed to have the unpleasant effects of accelerating intoxication in the test subject; it did not have the intended effects. His perfect plan did not go as intended. His serum failed and his plans for revenge were thwarted.
He would have stayed for longer, just to observe the behaviour of the target more thoroughly but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the troublesome blonde from the Tenth dropping by. He had no choice but to leave, wrapping his cloak tighter around him, hoping that she didn't recognize his disguise and suspect him of being up to something nefarious. The last thing he wants her to do is to report his appearance at the bar to the committee and being questioned about it during the monthly reviews.
Mayuri sighs, glaring at the heavy stack of notes and equipment he has left at his disposal. Looks like revenge is going to have to wait. It's back to the drawing board.
.
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Day 4 of IR week 2021: "Come on, let's go home."
I wasn't being subtle at all. You know, Substance F82B. *wink wink nudge nudge*
I'm sure you've all seen incorrectquotes for your OTPs where A conveniently forgets that B is his/her S.O. and promptly tears up when B claims to be taken. This is a crack fic that originated from that idea and I ran with it. It passed the 10k mark AND somehow managed to sneak in references of RenKFC. Of that, I am immensely proud.
Rukia is moron-Ichigo-sexual. Discuss.