Rukia was at a loss. She had spent the next several hours scouring her mind for ways to get Matsumoto's party shut down. Hours that she should have spent doing division work. At first, she had debated telling Kyoraku of Matsumoto's plan, only to remember that the man was probably personally looking forward to the affair. Then she considered informing Kenpachi of the event, and that Ichigo was guaranteed to be there. Except she had no doubt Captain Hitsugaya would have her head when inevitably the two of them destroyed his entire division in the resulting fight. Now, eight was quickly approaching, and Rukia had no plan.
"You ready?"
Rukia glanced up from her desk, where she had been accomplishing nothing but staring holes into the stack of papers that demanded her attention.
Ichigo leaned against the open door to the office in his typical shinigami attire, arms crossed over his chest. Behind him the moon was full and gleamed white in the dark violet night sky, her bright glow glancing across his silhouette. At the collar of his kosode, Rukia spied the sliver of smooth tan chest and thought unbidden of the strange tattoos that had once criss crossed his skin there after he had acquired Fullbring powers. She thought momentarily of how they contrasted from black to the light olive of his bare skin. Sometimes she had caught herself wondering if they were only on his chest and arms-out of curiosity, nothing more. Now, she would never know.
"As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose," she said, after a moment.
"At least we'll suffer together."
She smiled softly up at him, as she joined him in the doorway. She leaned close to him, keeping that innocent smile as genuine as she could manage. He didn't back away. He didn't even see it coming when her foot met his shin, all of her force driving behind it.
Rukia didn't dare stick around for Ichigo to recover. She leapt as far away as she physically could, only turning back to call behind her, "Race you there!" before breaking into the fastest shunpo she could manage.
Behind her, she could swear she heard the vague sound of him screaming, "Now you've done it, you fucking midget!"
Shunpo had always felt for Rukia like how she imagined flying would feel. All around her the warm night air brushed gently over her skin as she ran, jumping from rooftop to rooftop. Buildings blurred into grey and red streams in her peripheral. Only the sight of Ichigo's back remained solid and real, as the world seemed to fail to keep up with the speed at which they moved.
He'd overtaken her in an instant. Flickering into existence beside her the moment that she touched down on the edge of a building, taking only a split second to propel herself further. He was so fast that even as she shunpo'd herself, she couldn't keep track of him unless he wanted her to. One second there was empty air surrounding her, the next he was so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath caressing the shell of her ear.
"You're slow." He hummed into her hair, so near that she could smell the sweet citrus scent of Seireitei-issued soap on his skin
He stayed next to her only briefly before flashing in and out of her proximity to tease her. The grin that possessed her split her face ear-to-ear, as she couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous he was.
Occasionally she would remember what it was like when they first met. Memories had a funny way of not wanting to remain shelved away forever, and every so often they would force themselves to the forefront of her mind if they found themselves feeling neglected. It was for this reason that she found herself reminiscing of the boy he'd been at fifteen. A gawky boy made up almost entirely of limbs, who was always so fast to make up his mind and slow to change it. Many qualities about him hadn't changed since then, even as he'd grown more powerful. Only there was a certain aspect of him that she found herself considering most often, the peculiar way that he'd grown into some sort of immovable force. Not unlike a rock, in the middle of the sea-steady and unyielding.
To tell the truth, when they'd first met, she'd thought of him as an enigma that the universe had thrown in her lap. Thought him to be too loud, too stubborn. Too quick to throw himself headlong into battle without thinking of the consequences. Over time, she realized that it wasn't that he was loud. Rather, it was that he was brave enough to speak his mind loud enough, no matter who would hear. Rukia learned that it wasn't that he was merely stubborn, but that he would never give up when it mattered. Ichigo had never just thrown himself into battle, as she had first thought, but that he would do whatever it took to protect those that he loved, consequences be damned. Those qualities that she had once thought faults, slowly grew to be the parts of him she would not dare to change.
Now he was the ground beneath her feet. Some days she thought that without him, she would surely drown.
Ichigo won their race, unsurprisingly.
When Rukia arrived at the Tenth Division, panting lightly, he was sitting on the edge of the roof pretending to yawn.
"Get lost?" He asked her mockingly.
"Keep that up, and I'm going to lose my foot up your ass. Idiot."
Ichigo howled with laughter. "You talk to all your fake boyfriends like that?"
She scowled at him, nearly telling him off-someone could hear him-when the gate to the tenth division swung open, and an unseated officer of the tenth motioned them inside. Rukia settled for a heavy glare in Ichigo's direction. She dismissed the officer with a quiet thank you and informed him that she knew her way. He bowed deeply at her, before jogging lightly away.
Matsumoto's parties were always held in the back gardens of the tenth. The second-most beautiful gardens in all the Seireitei, after only the gardens that her brother tended to himself. Tiny, glowing, candle-lit lanterns hung in different sizes and colours from the sakura trees like stars against the night sky. Low tables were set up on the normally empty grass, an assortment of sitting pillows surrounding them. Women in beautiful kimonos served drinks with tiny umbrellas on trays. In the entrance hung a banner that read: Congratulations, Ichigo and Rukia! Finally!
All their friends and comrades were already in attendance, and by the looks of them, well into their cups. At Ichigo and Rukia's entrance, the party-goers turned, the dull cacophony of conversation growing quiet.
Then all at once they raised their glasses and yelled "Surprise!"
Matsumoto and Hinamori Momo threw handfuls of confetti into the air with wild grins on their faces. Renji, somewhere near the back, was doubled over laughing at their expense. Kyoraku Shunsui, the Captain Commander of the entire Seireitei, was already passed out drunk in his lieutenant's lap in the corner.
Beside Rukia, Ichigo tensed. A throbbing vein appeared at his temple. "Ah fuck."
Rukia didn't feel Isshin Kurosaki's reiatsu until he was nearly on top of them. She suspected Ichigo didn't either, but rather he had developed an innate supernatural ability to sense his father coming from a mile away. It was this that saved him now. Ichigo, who never took his hands out of the pockets of his hakama, merely crouched into a squat to avoid his father. Isshin had come rocketing towards his son, seemingly out of the very sky. It reminded Rukia of those people in the Living World who skydived in suits that looked oddly like squirrels.
Isshin cleared through the spot where Ichigo's head would have been and landed face first in the grass at their feet.
Learning that Isshin Kurosaki was not just Ichigo's outrageously strange father, but in fact a Shiba and the former Captain of the Tenth division, was a surprise to say the least. It was one of those things that made sense, once it was pointed out to her, but before that, she had never even considered it possible. There were implications that came along with her learning this. Isshin had known who she was from the very beginning. Had most likely known even when she was living in his son's closet. Not to mention there were implications about Ichigo, and his place in the Seireitei, but they had yet to have that conversation.
"I swear you get more insane every time I see you, old man," Ichigo said to the pile of dirt and man that was his father.
Still recovering on the ground, Isshin held up his hand in a thumbs up. "Your reflexes are good as ever, son."
Rukia smiled at the sight of them. Despite Isshin's insane antics, Rukia knew Ichigo missed his family more than he would admit. Even his father, but especially his sisters.
Yuzu came running from the crowd of their friends to envelop her older brother in a hug, which Ichigo welcomed easily. Karin hung back, her gait slow and casual. The dark-haired twin had her arms crossed over her chest in disappointment, and on the way over, she stopped to kick her father in the back of the head. Mumbling something that sounded awfully like I'll leave you here idiot, get it together. Karin only offered her brother a quick nod as hello and outstretched her fist. Ichigo knocked his own against it.
Captain Hitsugaya slid up beside Rukia, as she watched from afar as Ichigo greeted his family. The perpetual bored look that more often than not resided on the Captain of the Tenths features seemed to have deepened into a scowl, and there was a certain disheveled quality to him that did not align with how he normally looked. Judging by the way he was glaring daggers into Isshin, it wouldn't be a jump for Rukia to assume what had caused this visible distress. Clearly the Captain had his own reunion with Isshin before they had arrived.
"I believe I have been the victim of what humans refer to as karma." drawled Captain Hitsugaya the way a man who had accepted a death sentence would. "Though, I'm not sure what you have done to deserve this fate."
Rukia could see the exact millisecond that Isshin spotted her. His eyes grew so large, they welled full of crocodile tears enormous enough to provide enough water to end a drought. With arms thrown wide, the former Captain hurtled himself towards her. Tears streaked like banners behind him. "My lovely third daughter! My adorable second son!" he cried.
"Absolutely not," gritted Ichigo as he reached out to grab his father by the collar, face pinched and furious. With the force of his entire weight, Ichigo hurled his father into the sky the way an Olympian would throw a shot put.
"Oh, it's not so bad," Rukia murmured fondly. She clasped a hand on her fellow Captains shoulder and joked, "Welcome to the family, Captain."
"Hm." was the only reply elicited from the Captain. Though, it was not a denial.
"This is going to be a long night," said Ichigo under his breath to her, his eyes glued to Captain Hitsugaya as he migrated over to where Karin stood. Rukia couldn't help but agree.
Rukia slides her hand into Ichigo's, and hopes desperately that no one else noticed the way he flinches, as if he's been burned, at her touch. But when she looked around at her friend's faces, they're all smiling, none of them looking suspicious at all. "Let's go get something to drink, and say hello."
They only make it two steps, before he is sliding his hand out from her grasp.
Every tray carried by each beautiful waitress wearing soft pastel colored kimonos seems to hold a different drink. There are tall blue and red drinks that swirl together in a mesmerizing gradient, pink drinks in wobbling martini glasses with yellow sugar rims and mint green umbrellas, yellow drinks in tiny shot glasses that promise citrus and sweetness. Ichigo steals a pink drink for her, and a blue drink for himself.
"Rangiku outdid herself this time, huh," observed Ichigo as he handed her drink over.
Rukia looked around at the party, taking in all the fancy decorations. It was hardly comparable to the parties Matsumoto would usually throw where they would all merely sit in a circle in Hitsugaya's office, passing a bottle or five of sake around. "I think we might owe her an apology," she said in agreement.
"Well, I'm glad you think so!" purred Matsumoto behind them, in a way that other people would say I told you so. "Though I've got to hand it to you, you guys put up a valiant fight. I was beginning to think I'd have to kidnap you both."
Ichigo made a sound beside her as if to say I'd like to see you try.
Yes, Rukia would prefer it if her lieutenant didn't destroy the Seireitei more than he already has. She couldn't imagine the paperwork that would cause. "Thank you, Matsumoto." She tells the beaming woman. "I don't even know how you pulled this off. It is truly too much."
"Oh it's nothing," Matsumoto said with a wave of her hand. "I've had this planned for years. It helps that the Captain permitted me so that he could butter up Kurosaki so that he'll approve when he asks out Karin-chan."
"When he what?" Demanded Ichigo.
At the same time, Rukia choked, "Years?"
In true Matsumoto fashion, to their dismay, she held up a hand to her ear as if she were trying to listen for something. "Oh! What was that? I think my Captain is calling for me." lightning-fast she offered them a parting wave. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
Ichigo snorted, still staring at the spot Matsumoto had vacated. "That doesn't eliminate much."
"I think what she is trying to say, is that we should try to have fun."
Ichigo rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his blue drink. "I guess it couldn't hurt to try."
When Matsumoto had told them she had invited Ichigo's family from the living world, she had conveniently forgotten to mention that she had also invited all of Ichigo's friends from the living world.
They sat comfortably across the garden, grouped around one of the many low tables. Nearly all of them looked the same as the last time that Rukia had seen them. Though it appeared Ishida had forgone his Quincy fighting clothes for the occasion, opting instead for a long long-sleeve and jeans. This was decidedly for the best. Chad was still his large, lumbering self, even sitting down he took up a whole side of the table alone. Inoue, if possible, looked more radiant than Rukia even remembered.
At the sight of Orihime Inoue, guilt welled up inside her chest. Rukia's throat dries considerably at the realization that Orihime didn't know that her relationship with Ichigo was not real and that any pain this might cause her won't be fake at all. Only as they headed over to his group of friends, the smile on Orihime's face didn't falter.
While they approached Rukia looked over the table again. This time, she saw that it wasn't only the group of friends that had often accompanied Ichigo to the Seireitei throughout the years. With them was also Tatsuki, Keigo, and Mizuiro. It had been a long time since she had seen any of them, and though she knew them, a sudden nervousness creeps to life inside of her.
"Hey, guys," Ichigo said, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly, as he did whenever he was nervous.
Whether Ichigo's sudden shyness was regarding his friends thinking that they are dating, or that he hasn't had the time to visit due to his duties as her lieutenant, she cannot be sure.
Tatsuki reached out to hit Ichigo's arm hard enough that Rukia suspected it might bruise later. "Didn't think you could get rid of us that easily did you?"
Ichigo said something in a tone that suggested he's offended by this, but Rukia wasn't listening as Inoue came over to embrace her. Somehow this made her feel worse. As she knew that the smiles and happiness Inoue seemed to feel for her were genuine.
Only a fool wouldn't be able to see how deeply in love Inoue was with Ichigo.
Yet, despite this, Inoue tells her, "I'm so happy for the both of you."
"Truly?" Rukia asked, unable to catch herself.
Inoue's eyes flickered to Ichigo, who had separated himself from Rukia to catch up with the rest of his friends. Already he is caught in a heated argument with Ishida over something that is more than likely completely unimportant. Inoue's smile gained a small, yet present, slightly self-deprecating edge to it.
When she spoke next, her voice was soft as a whisper. "All I ever wanted was for him to be happy." She took one of Rukia's hands into hers. "I also can't say I'm surprised."
Rukia had to still herself to keep from flinching. Why did everyone keep saying that? She nearly asked Inoue but clamped her mouth shut as she felt Ichigo slide up behind her.
"Surprised about what?" Ichigo asked, oblivious.
In the crease of his brow, Rukia could see that she is not alone in the guilt that she felt. She was startled to have realized that Ichigo must have known the whole time how Inoue felt about him. Always, she had thought that he was simply too stupid to see what was right in front of him. It had been the only explanation she could think of as to why he'd never acted on her obvious infatuation for him. Now, she found it obvious in the way he greeted Inoue-friendly, yet distant-that he had always known. In this realization, another thing became clear to Rukia as Inoue distracted him away from asking about their conversation by telling him about work at the bakery. Ichigo had never acted on Inoue's feelings because he didn't want to.
It was instinct that made her reach out and press her hand just above his elbow, fulfilling a sudden unconscious desire to comfort him. To tell him without words, that she knew what he was feeling. Only when her hand came into contact with his sleeve, even ever so gently, Ichigo startled away from it.
This time, when she looked around, Ishida was looking directly at her.
Aside from Ichigo and his sudden aversion to her very touch, and Ishida's far too knowing gaze, everything was going fine until Renji-because it was always Renji-asked: "So when exactly did things change between you guys? Last time I checked you were both still in denial, I've been waiting all day to hear how you guys got together."
Up until that very moment, Rukia had actually been having fun. Though she and Ichigo spent much of the party avoiding both Captain Kyoraku and Nanao, for obvious reasons. Keigo had apparently smuggled a human contraption into the Seireitei called a "beer-bong" and had spent the majority of the evening attempting to teach the high ranking officials of the Gotei Thirteen how it works. Resulting in Captain Hirako ejecting his drink in a geyser out of his nostrils. Much to Rukia's amusement, as she was one of the few who managed to get out of the splash zone in time. The same could not be said to Ichigo, who had not been paying attention and ended up directly in the line of fire.
Rukia would have laughed at Ichigo choking on his drink if she weren't too busy coming to the horrible realization that they had never come up with a backstory for their fake romance. She couldn't believe her stupidity, that was the first rule of faking a relationship. All of the romance novels she had read in the living world had said so. Ichigo's eyes flashed to her as if he expected her to have all the answers. When he saw that her expression mirrored his own internal panic he shifted uncomfortably, and cleared his throat.
Then, something miraculous happened. When Ichigo spoke next, it wasn't to embarrass Rukia in the way she had expected. He didn't go on to tell all their friends that she had confessed her love for him publicly on her knees, or begged him to be with her, the way she would have thought. There was a single beat, a distinct pause, where Ichigo merely looked at her as if she were the only one there. The silence hanging between them like a palpable, living thing.
Rukia had seen that look before. When he thought she wasn't looking, or paying attention. It had always been so fast—the barest of instants, that it was simple enough to tell herself that she was imagining things.
This look was different. It didn't disappear when she blinked the moment away, it wasn't an instant at all, but rather it felt an eternity. It lasted long enough for her to see the softness in it, and something else that she couldn't name if she tried.
Then Ichigo blinked, and the look vanished. The smooth nonchalance he normally wore slid back into place. "I was never in denial." A hush fell over the group and heads turned to listen. Matsumoto poked her head over the shoulder of Captain Hitsugaya, her sixth sense for gossip had apparently guided her to their table. The corner of Ichigo's mouth curled upward in a half-smile that seemed almost self-conscious. His eyes found hers as he said, "I always knew that Rukia was the one."
In the entirety of the time Rukia had known him, Ichigo had always been a horrible liar. This lie, however, fell from his lips so easily that if Rukia didn't know better, she would have thought that it wasn't a lie at all.
He was doing this for the benefit of the division, she reminded herself. Of course he could lie when it meant people would stop stealing his dirty laundry and hiding on rooftops to watch him train. There was a beat of stunned silence as their friends looked between the two of them, until Rukia realized that they were waiting for her to say something.
"I, uh.." she said eloquently.
Ichigo chuckled softly at her. "What Rukia is attempting to say is that it took her a little bit longer to figure things out."
Their friends burst into laughter, the kind of laughter that is a full hearted agreement and Rukia struggled not to gape at them. Despite the fact that what Ichigo said isn't true, and was merely a part of their ruse, Rukia bristled. She would know if someone was in love with her. Especially if that person was Ichigo. Wouldn't she?
Renji could barely hold himself up, whether it was from laughing, or the fact that he had taken five turns with Keigo's beer bong, Rukia was unsure. "Rukia might be adopted but when it comes to showing emotions she is a Kuchiki, through and through. Just like her brother. Trust me."
Rukia's head swiveled so fast on her neck to look at him, it was a miracle she didn't hurt herself, "What does that even mean?"
Renji made a motion of zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key that made Rukia want to kick him in the face. So she did.
"You did that one to yourself, dumbass." Drawled Ichigo.
They were separated not twenty minutes later. Rukia, swarmed by Nanao and Kiyone, among other of her friends. Ichigo, having wandered off to god-knows-where the moment she turned away.
Nanao tells her of a new kido that she had finally managed to get right as they drink. It was at the point in the night where normally Rukia would have stopped drinking and opted to let her light buzz carry her along for the rest of the evening. So when the waitress circling their group handing out beverages offered one to her, she took it not considering the fact that she had begun to lose count of how many pink martini's she'd had.
As Nanao went into detail of how she altered the incantation of a hado, lamenting about how this subsequently affected how the hado performed, Rukia's mind began to wander to Ichigo. Specifically the way he had been pointedly shrugging off her efforts to look like a couple all night. It infuriated her to an amount that was arguably due to the fact that she could not taste the alcohol in her drink, but the part of her that would ordinarily have reminded her of this had evidently taken a vacation.
Why did he have to be so difficult?
It was then that Rukia realized her friend had stopped talking, and she had no memory of what she had said. Nanao stared at her expectantly. There was a twinge of amusement that had developed in the corner of her mouth.
When Rukia didn't answer whatever it was Nanao had asked her, Nanao smiled knowingly. "Thinking of your Lieutenant, Captain?"
Rukia flushed guiltily, and opened her mouth to disagree, to tell her friend that it wasn't like that.
Nanao spoke before she could even manage to find her voice. "Go find him," She offered. "I remember the honeymoon phase
"I don't need to-"
"But you clearly want to. I'm pretty sure I saw him hanging around Renji. Go," Nanao insisted.
Rukia smiled gratefully at her friend. Though Nanao had been right in thinking that Rukia had been distracted thinking of Ichigo, Rukia decided not to inform her that she was thinking of how much she would like to kick his ass. "Thank you,"
Nanao waved her off, "Don't let me find you in any broom closets later. There are things that just shouldn't leave the bedroom, Kuchiki"
Rukia pretended not to hear that.
Finding Renji was the easiest thing that Rukia had ever done. All she had to do was look for the most outrageous, brightest hair, and listen for the person yelling the loudest. It takes her no more than half a second to spot him across the party where he was fully immersed in an arm wrestling battle with Isshin Kurosaki, refereed by Karin. Yumichika watched unimpressed from the sidelines. Too busy holding both his and Ikkaku's drinks to protect them from unobservant oafs, leaving Ikkaku free to heckle both Isshin and Renji until his face went as red as Renji's hair.
As Rukia watched them she was reminded that in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't so long ago that man evolved from the ape. It was hard to forget really, as she observed the vein in Renji's forehead become so prominent that he looked likely to suffer an aneurysm.
"Good evening, Kuchiki." Greeted Yumichika, as he was the only one who even noticed her walk up. "You have arrived just in time for the show."
"I'm afraid I can't stay," She said, aiming to sound regretful but missing the mark by a mile.
"Ah," Yumichika intoned knowingly. "Looking for your lover?"
From the table, where he was slowly but surely losing to Isshin, Renji cried out. "Your boyfriend's a coward, Rukia! Pretended he needed to piss just to get out of losing to me. Sure you still want to date him?"
"How dare you try to prevent me from getting grandchildren!" Shouted Isshin, slamming Renji's arm down onto the table so hard that the momentum spun Renji onto the ground, sprawling him out on his back.
"He's gone to the washroom, I believe," Yumichika told her as if he was watching a chess game that disinterested him greatly. "I'd head off before they chose you as their next opponent."
Rukia didn't need to be told twice.
Rukia didn't bother to knock when she barged into the men's washroom, pushing open the swinging door with her foot. At the sound, a dark-haired member of the Tenth Division turned his head over his shoulder, leaving the rest of his body facing the trough. There was a split second before his brain computed that she was a woman, followed by his face turning the deepest shade of red Rukia had ever seen. His mouth worked, like a fish out of water as his gaze traveled over her Captain's haori.
"Get out." Rukia ordered.
Beside the man, Ichigo's head whipped back at the sound of her voice, his eyes comically wide. "What the hell?"
The man from the Tenth Division took one look at her expression and fixed his pants, nearly fleeing the washroom. Without washing his hands.
"Rukia, this is the men's room. You can't just barge in here." he hissed as he hastily tried to right his uniform. "You also can't kick people out of the men's room."
Rukia raised a brow at him. Well, she just did, but she allowed Ichigo the time to wash his hands before she said what she'd come to say. The truth was she had a bone to pick with him, and this was the most private place in the Tenth Division that she could currently think of.
Behind her, the door moved to open. Rukia slammed her hand down on it, forcing it back closed. "Occupied!"
"Seriously," Ichigo reprimanded her, as he shook the water off his hands "What is wrong with you?"
"What is wrong with me?" Rukia growled at him. "What is wrong with you?"
Rukia was truly unsurprised when Ichigo balked at her as if he had no idea what she was talking about. Most likely because he didn't. Because he was a fool. "Every time I touch you, you flinch so hard it's as if I've shot you. We're pretending to date Ichigo, you have to at least try to act like you don't hate the idea of being touched by me."
Ichigo held up his hands in surrender. "Woah, first of all, I don't hate being touched by you."
"Second of all?"
"Second of all, what?" Ichigo blinked.
"Typically when people start a sentence with 'first of all' they have more than one point."
"No, that was it."
One day, Rukia was going to murder him. She only had so much patience and Ichigo seemed to be on a mission to find out just where it ended. "Whatever, that is beside the point. You need to stop. Ishida already looks suspicious."
Ichigo scratched the back of his neck. "It's not that I don't like it, okay? I'm just not used to it."
It was at this exact moment the lightbulb went off inside of her brain. It was then that she realized precisely what needed to be done for them to fully convince everyone that they were a couple. The only problem was that she knew for a fact it would take time to convince Ichigo of this. Without a word, she offered her hand to him.
"What are you doing?"
Rukia sighed. "You claim that the issue is that you are not used to us touching. Therefore the solution would be for us to touch."
"Okay." Said Ichigo hesitantly. "So all I have to do is hold your hand, and you'll stop being mad at me?"
He took her hand in his. It was just like the first time when he had grabbed her hand at lunch. Every part of her that was touching him could not seem to forget, and the feel of his calloused palm against hers was all-encompassing. Demanding all of her attention. So warm, and so right, that she nearly forgot the words already on the tip of her tongue.
"Just to be safe, I think we should practice other displays of affection as well."
Rukia could feel every molecule of his being still at her words. For a moment she thought that he was going to let go of her hand. Only he doesn't. There was a beat where he stood unmoving, eyes trained on the way their hands intertwined. As if he was mesmerized by it. She wondered silently if her touch, even one as small and innocent as the feel of her hand, felt as good to him as it did to her?
"What kinds of displays of affection?" He asked finally, tearing his eyes away to look up at her.
Often she thought that his eyes reminded her of autumn. In the sun they would gleam bronze and gold, the colour of leaves just before they would begin to fall. The heat of his gaze on her was the specific, and so human feeling of warmth that only the odd beautiful sunny day after weeks of rain in autumn could create. It was a testament to her strength that she did not melt beneath the intensity which he looked at her.
She had not forgotten what had happened in that closet, though she had tried. Can I? He had whispered to her. Can he, what? What would she have seen in his eyes as he looked down at her at that moment?
"We have to practice if we're to convince everyone tonight that we're together." She told him matter-of-factly, doing the best she could to keep her mind from wandering. "People will notice if you keep flinching like you've been electrocuted every time I touch you."
Ichigo looked as though he resented that. "Everyone believed we were together before we even told them we were together. I don't think we're going to have a problem."
"We cannot take this lightly, Ichigo. I would much rather be over-prepared than be caught with our panties down."
"That is not how that saying goes. Did someone tell you to say that?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, where a migraine was surely forming behind his eyes. "We've been over this. When Keigo teaches you a common phrase, you need to check with me first."
Rukia was beginning to resemble a pot of water that had been left to boil for too long. "I'm not an idiot. I don't need your permission to use sayings from the Living World."
"I'm going to murder him." Ichigo sighed. Then he repeated, "What kinds of physical affection, Rukia?"
Rukia waved her free hand in a flippant motion, but her cheeks grew pink. "Please, Ichigo. I'm not asking you to do anything ridiculous. A casual embrace, a chaste kiss, holding hands."
Ichigo's face turned so red, she thought he might swell up, and pop like a child's balloon. This was exactly the problem she thought they might face. While Rukia couldn't be considered an expert in relationships by any means, Ichigo was less experienced than her. This was the entire reasoning behind this exercise. To ensure the wellbeing of their division from his fangirls, and pull such a prank, they needed to convince everyone beyond a doubt, so that when they revealed the truth it would be that much more shocking. They couldn't falter if a situation came up that required them to display some sort of affection.
"Why on earth would we need to practice that?"
"We're pretending to date, Ichigo. People who date occasionally show each other affection."
"What kind of people do you think our friends are?" There was a note of incredulity in his voice now, "No one is going to put a gun to our heads and demand that we kiss, Rukia."
"Of course they won't, Ichigo. Shinigamis have no use for guns. What a stupid thing to say."
There had been a moment where Rukia had thought that in that broom closet below the Seireitei Ichigo had been about to ask if he could kiss her. Looking at how flustered he became at the idea now, she knew that couldn't be true. It still surprised her, that this man who had saved the entire world, could be so innocent sometimes.
Without letting go of her hand he turned away from her, and ran a hand over his mouth to compose himself.
"Is this because you have never kissed someone before?" She asked him.
His head snapped towards her, but his face was not nearly as red as she expected it to be. "I've kissed people."
"Oh, is that so. Who exactly have you kissed?" She raised a brow a single brow at him as if to say, I don't believe you. Carefully, she took a step towards him. Just one, so that she was not yet invading his personal space, but rather asking permission to do so.
His gaze flickered to the floor at the slow movement of her one, singular step. It only lasted a moment until his eyes flashed back to hers, snapping back as if they were obeying the laws of magnetism. "People." He muttered in answer to her question. But he was only half paying attention as she took another step towards him.
She was so close to him now that her chest was nearly pressed against his. All the embarrassment lingering in Ichigo's expression washed away and was replaced by something else entirely. An expression closer to that which he wore before battle.
"What are you doing?" He was whispering now, despite them being alone. As if the air around them were made of glass so thin that should he speak too loud, or move too quickly, it would shatter.
Her voice was breathless, "Pretending."
Ever so slowly, she untangled her hand from his and brought it up to cup the side of his face. The ivory colour of her hand contrasted starkly against the even tan of his face. Never had she touched him like this, and she was startled to find that his cheek was not entirely smooth as she'd expected. There was a roughness beneath her palm at his jawline that when she dragged her hand across it sent tiny sparks down her arm. At her touch, his eyes fluttered closed.
When he opened them again his eyes were the liquid fire of a sky just as the sun touched the horizon. The way he was looking at her now was a way she had never seen before. The harsh lines of his face softened, any traces of their argument dissolved away. She almost asked, why don't you look like you're pretending? Only she did not, because then he might have stopped looking at her like that, and a tiny part of her didnt ever want him to stop.
Which one of them closed the distance, she could not be sure. One moment there was space between them, the next there was not. Suddenly his arms were sliding around her waist, they encompassed her entire being into the orbit of his, pulled her flush against him. Then his lips were against hers.
At first, it was just this: just a gentle press of lips against lips. It lasted no more than thirty seconds before he pulled away. Just far enough that his lips were no longer meeting hers, his forehead pressed against hers. Neither of them dared to open their eyes, for a single moment they remained that way, completely still in the aftermath.
For a single breath, she thought that was it.
Then his lips found hers again, and this time there was nothing gentle about it. They were two waves crashing against each other. Intertwined so deeply that she could not tell where she ended and he began. His claim to her mouth was devastating, taking every piece of her that she had to offer until there were no parts of her left that were not his.
Rukia Kuchiki had been kissed before, but never had she been kissed like this.
In her chest, her heart beat thumped so violently that she could feel it in her toes, and her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. If he were not there to hold her up, surely she would have dissolved into nothing.
She brought the hand hanging at her side up to join the one already pressed against his face. Beneath her touch, she could feel the strong muscles of his jaw work as he pulled her bottom lip into his mouth. The way he kissed her is gentle, and yet so violent that her head spun. More than that, it was so very him.
Just as soon as the kiss had begun, as quickly as his lips had come to meet hers, he was pulling away fiercely. "Fuck—Rukia, I'm so sorry."
Without him surrounding her, a chill rolled over her. She was used to being cold, but this time it was different. Not so much a change in temperature, but the loss of something. Hastily, she said. "There is nothing to apologize for, Ichigo. It was only pretend."
Even with her chin turned down, she could feel his eyes as they burned holes into her.
"Right." He said softly. "Just pretend."
As they stepped back into the party it felt as if they were stepping from the shadows and into light to stare directly into the sun. The noise and ambiance of the party were strange and foreign when she could still taste Ichigo's mouth on hers. This time, it was Ichigo who offered his hand to her. She could not quite bring herself to look him in the eye just yet, in fear that her face would give away what they were doing inside.
The moment they returned to the party, Matsumoto was at their side. "Finally! I was wondering where you two got off to. You almost missed the best part."
Ichigo's expression when he glanced at her was filled with mild confusion and something else that tells her he hadn't yet forgotten the feel of her, either. Matsumoto led them to the epicenter of the party. Where, much to Rukia's dismay, someone had taken the liberty of assembling a giant white screen and projector. Matsumoto shoved them into two chairs placed directly facing the screen so that they had a perfect view of what was to come. Waitresses appeared at their sides, offering each of them another drink.
"Rangiku," Ichigo said wearily, "What is going on?"
The maniacal grin that unfolded across Matsumoto's face would haunt Rukia in her dreams. "Don't worry. You'll love it," she assured them.
For some reason, Rukia did not entirely believe her.
Matsumoto backed away from them, still facing the crowd of their friends that have gathered behind them to get a good view of the projector screen. In a similar fashion to the way a magician would pull a rabbit from a hat, Matsumoto retrieved a microphone from her cleavage. She tapped the top with one long, well-manicured finger twice, the sound reverberating from speakers hidden in the bushes.
"Testing, testing. One, two, three." She announced into the mic, that grin still plastered to her face. When she was positive that the microphone was working, she threw her free hand into the air and bellowed, "Welcome, friends! Welcome to the party you all have been waiting for."
A cheer erupted from behind them, and someone yelled, "Finally!"
Matsumoto chuckled into the microphone. "Yes, finally! Finally, Ichigo and Rukia have admitted to each other what we've always known. Congratulations to the happy couple!"
As Matsumoto spoke, an image appeared on the screen behind her. A simple black screen with white text that read: Ichiruki Through The Years, then on the line below, by Kisuke Urahara.
Dread filled her gut. All that Rukia could bring herself to do was mutter under her breath, "Oh no."
Mentally she tried to catalogue everything that Urahara could possibly have photos of. The possibilities were endless. If it were a normal person, she would at the very least have the comfort of knowing that they would have had to be there. Urahara, however, had proved over the years that his relationship with the concept of boundaries was not quite up to par with the rest of the population.
Beside her, Ichigo was strung like a bow. Every muscle in his body seized in his seat. Through gritted teeth, he said to her, "Is that...what I think it is?"
"It would appear so." she replied. She forced a smile to her face similar to one that she wore at Karakura High as Matsumoto's eyes locked on her.
"As you can see," Matsumoto continued, "Urahara-san was kind enough to send us a beautiful slideshow for our entertainment tonight, so please, enjoy the show.."
The lights overhead dimmed to a soft glow. The excited conversation at their backs lowered to a whisper, and without further ado the show began.
Ichigo had taken her to see exactly one movie in theatres while she was stationed in the Living World. An action film that had already been in theatres for several months, the name of which had long escaped her. It was a completely unmemorable film. This was majorly due to the fact Ichigo had dragged her out of the theatre by the hair before the trailers had even ended. According to him it was frowned upon to speak at normal conversational levels, and demand to know what was going on every two seconds. Still, she vividly remembered that one of the trailers had opened with a booming narrator who had spoken over sweeping, dramatic music. The man's voice had been impossibly low, dragging out every word to infuriating lengths, his sentences punctuated with an unnecessary amount of pauses.
This narrator was what Urahara's voice reminded her of, when he began to speak over a needlessly dramatic soundtrack. It all began when a fifteen year old boy who could see ghosts...met a girl...who was a ghost. The rest is history. This is a story of true love.
On her left Ichigo snorted.
As Urahara narrated, the black title screen faded away to reveal a shot of Rukia lying prone on the floor of Ichigo's bedroom, stunned beyond belief after he had roundhouse kicked her for ignoring him. It was the moment they had first met. Taken right before Rukia had driven her sword through his heart and gave him a piece of her soul so that he could save his family. In it, they both looked achingly young. Him more so than her. She had forgotten how angular he had looked back then-how angry.
Ichigo was watching through the gaps between his fingers. Having brought up his hands to cover his face, but apparently unable to stop himself from looking. "I don't even want to know how Hat'n'clogs got that."
The screen faded away again, and Urahara's voice sounded once more. In a moment of desperation, an injured Rukia Kuckiki committed treason by transferring her Shinigami powers to Ichigo Kurosaki in order to save his family from a hollow attack.
The next picture was of Ichigo. In it, he is holding the first blade he'd ever wielded; that ungodly katana that he had swung around with as much grace as a sledge hammer. Behind him the hollow had already begun to disintegrate, and though he was only a boy holding a large sword, in this picture he looked everything the part of a true Shinigami.
There were murmurs behind her, and Rukia remembered belatedly that not everyone in the Seireitei knew the exact details of her time in the Living World. But certainly they had never seen Ichigo like this. The majority of the Seireitei had only known the version of him that came to rescue her.
For several months Ichigo Kurosaki operated as the Substitute Shinigami of Karakura Town. During those months he and Rukia grew closer.
The next photos came faster than the first two. Shots of them walking to school together. Of him carrying her on his back from rooftop to rooftop in pursuit of hollows. Several of her kicking him in the face, and a good number of him bent nearly in half to bring his face level to hers just so that he could stick his tongue out at her.
The air in her lungs snagged on something in her chest when a picture flashed by of them eating lunch on the roof of Karakura High together. It was a day she remembered so clearly compared to the rest. Still, without even thinking she could feel the breeze against her skin and how it soothed the beading warmth of the sun overhead. The smell of the blooming cherry blossom trees in the wind. In the photo his chin was pointed to look away from her as he held a juicebox out to her, indignant as ever. She was caught in motion, leaned forward to wrap her lips around the clear straw. It was the day he had shown her how to open a juice box.
The pictures that came next were from when he'd come to rescue her from execution. The first was from that day on the bridge. It was a perfect shot of the precise instant he touched down on the bridge at her side, the wing that had carried him there still fully extended and his head tilted down so that the fringe of his hair cast harsh shadows across his face. It had been the first time she'd laid eyes on him since she had left him to die in the Living World only two weeks before. If she hadn't known, had not lived through the days between leaving the Living World and seeing him appear before her that day, she would have thought there were years between those two moments. So clearly, she remembered a part of her not believing Renji's words when he'd whispered rumours of Ichigo's arrival in the Seireitei. It was the same instinct that allowed her to block the swing of an enemy's sword at her back that prevented her from wholly thinking Ichigo was alive until she had seen him with her own eyes. Part of her had known, if she had let herself have that kind of hope only to find out Renji had been wrong, it would have killed her faster than any execution blade.
The montages that followed were taken from all different time periods, a collection of images taken in the off time between battles while they trained. There is one of Ichigo asleep sitting up, taken while they were supposed to be connecting with their Zanpakutou. Rukia was bent down beside him and the photo caught her red handed drawing a moustache across his upper lip in permanent marker. Another captured them mid training, drenched in sweat, and both grinning at one another. The last was of Ichigo doing pushups with Rukia sitting cross legged on his back.
It was strange to watch their entire relationship flicker by before her, made of pixels and captured in still frames, and not entirely the exact way she remembered. Watching it, she felt nearly disentangled from her own life, as if seeing a movie that she hadn't seen since she was a child and finding that it was completely different than she remembered. There were things now, she could see, that she had never noticed. The way an artist can only see his work clearly by stepping back.
For the first time Rukia could see it. The reason why everyone had always asked if she and Ichigo were really just friends- It was the way their bodies tilted towards one another, even when they weren't looking at each other. It was the way they seemed to be aware of only each other in a room full of people, blinded to the world around them except for each other. In every photo she was looking at him as if she was seeing the sun for the very first time in her life, her eyes ablaze and so full. And he…in every photo looked at her as if he could never stop, that if he blinked or looked away, she would disappear from existence all together.
Before she could dig herself a hole so deep that she could not climb out of it, Rukia forced herself to take a deep breath and reminded herself that she would know if there was something more to their relationship. That not everything was as it appears, and to fit her relationship with Ichigo into the conditions that typically defined a bond between a man and a woman would be futile. They were more than that. There was no word yet for the kind of connection they shared.
When Rukia looked back at the projector it was playing not a picture, but a video. In it she was standing on the lip of a guard rail, the wind running its fingers through her hair. She catches only the last part of her own words, her voice coming through the speakers free of hesitation: That is the kind of man you have been in my heart, Ichigo.
The next shot was of only Ichigo. A photograph of his back as he vaults into a Senkaimon, a small smudge of black nearly enveloped by the light of the gate. It was the day he returned to the World of the Living, she thinks immediately. Below it, a small line of script reads: Thank you, Rukia...Because of you the rain has stopped falling.
At her side, Ichigo nearly stopped breathing. "Oh, come on. I said that in my head."
Rukia replayed the words in her mind. Because of you the rain has stopped.
Only once had Ichigo described his inner world to her. It had been sometime between when he regained his Shinigami powers, and the first Quincy attack. After seventeen months apart even leaving eachothers' sides for a day had felt like torture. Often in the beginning she would reach out to touch him periodically just to know that she could. To prove to herself it was not a dream. There would be moments when he would stare at her for minutes at a time, as if committing her to memory, eyes tracing over every angle of her existence. When she'd caught him doing this, she had known he felt the same.
Then one day, seemingly out of the blue, he had told her that his inner world is made of a vast expanse of towering glass buildings. Every skyscraper with windows like mirrors, so that whichever way he turned he was forced to look at himself, and truly see. When he had told her of the rain, his voice had dipped to a whisper.
"Is it raining right now?" Is what she had asked him that day.
There had been meaning behind the look he'd levied her with then, meaning that she had not understood until now. "Not anymore." he'd said.
At their back their friends clapped and awehed, but the sound was muffled as Rukia's attention pinpointed on Ichigo. His eyes remained trained ahead, as if he was unable to look at her. Look at me, she begged him silently. She knew that his eyes would confirm or deny the thoughts running through her mind. Except he didn't, and she watched as his cheeks grew pink under her gaze. Helplessly, she thought: because of you, the rain has stopped. In her head his voice played back his words from not even an hour earlier, his voice soft and his eyes never leaving hers: I was never in denial. I always knew Rukia was the one. She thought of what he had said in the tunnels: Can I? What he had said in her office, when she had asked him to hold her hand: I just think if we were really dating- Just as the projector had played pictures of them, her mind supplies the memory of how he had looked down at her the moment before they had kissed. How she had even thought, why don't you look like you're pretending?
Because he wasn't. He never was.