rent

13. you will find me on my tallest tiptoes

by appleschan


For a few weeks beginning April, Rukia's thoughts can comfortably turn to sunny gardening, dandelions, leisurely walks, linen-deep cleaning, cold orange juice, and-

"Hey, you want to go to the post office with me?"

Rukia is about to push the front door open when she hears Ichigo say something from the living room. She retreats and sticks her neck a bit. He comes out a few seconds later, looking at something on his phone, eyebrows furrowed furiously.

"Post office?"

"I have a package but they won't deliver here," he answers, dead-eyed.

Rukia nods, "oh, too far?" she says in commiseration. Ichigo lives in a mansion on top of a hill and the roads are winding and the nearest bus station is 20 mins away on foot and it's surrounded by tall trees, but she likes the walk anyway.

"Far," he confirms, "or the senders just want to mess with me."

Ichigo, it turns out, has seasonal care packages from his distant aunt and uncle. "Weirdos," he says, and, "they're mostly useless."

"What did you get the last time?"

"Talking toilet paper."

Rukia understands.

"Why are you asking me?" It's a genuine question. Rukia, wearing a cherry red sundress, turns to him. Her hair is in a ponytail, a bit to the side. She is on her way outside to do a bit of light weeding and maybe visit some stores later - armed with garden shears and sunhat and towels, and Ichigo looks like he's dressed for something.

It's the first proper day of their vacation, too, doesn't mean that they are free, the amount of work is not as soul-crushing. And Ichigo, who ditched his usual black clothes yet again (he first progressed from black to gray so that must mean something), opts for light-colored long-sleeves and dark ankle pants. His hair, longer and shaggier, tied in a somewhat messy bun - a habit he picked up during soccer practice. Yet another welcome change, thinks Rukia, whatever happened to the hoodie-wearing, late-night programmer-soccer star who, despite being handsome and popular, looks like he has a heart the size of a needlepoint.

"I thought you'd like the sun," Ichigo shrugs, one hand massaging the back of his neck, "that's all."

Rukia decides, that sounds inviting enough - the sun and seeing some stores, "okay," she nods in agreement, "I'm meaning to stretch my legs, actually."

.

.

.

.

.

A few minutes later, the two are out walking. They did not take the bus. The actual mid-morning sun is not scorching, it's still somewhat cloudy. She's a few steps ahead, humming.

Ichigo is content to walk a few paces behind her, watching ahead for her, and it's a good thing that his sandals barely make a sound because he's listening to her humming. The weather makes for a good day to walk.

.

.

.

.

.

After 25 minutes, they gave up walking.

"It's too far," she says, "yeah," he agrees, falling to a step beside her. Then they walk back to the nearest bus station that they just passed after realizing how far the next one is. Rukia bought them soda from the vending machine and they sat on the bench, waiting.

Soon, the bus comes and they reach the city, all familiar roadsides and stores, they are close to the university after all.

"Do you even know where the post office is?" Rukia asks Ichigo when they get off the bus. There's a playful glint in her eyes. Minutes ago, he thought of offering his hand, but he did not. It's unusual and old-fashioned.

"Shut up," he just averts his eyes and he motions for her to follow him, then stops, remembers something, and turns back to her, "do you want to look around first?" He did tell her that she could like the sun if she came with him. It's just mid-morning and the shops aren't busy with customers yet. It would be easy to spot her, a solid red against greens and grays and he'll know her head anywhere. The weather is nice. If she'd like, he'll accompany her.

Rukia shakes her head casually, "no, you first."

Ahh, Ichigo nods, and turns on his heels, there's something beating dangerously close to the surface of his chest.

(in truth: Ichigo knows for months now and doesn't know how to act on it, but he's most certainly in love with her)

.

.

.

.

.

The post office looks like any other government-run office but their city affords a bit of indulgence, it's all off-white and full-glass, modernized. There's a queue and Ichigo waits his turn. Rukia doesn't accompany him to the line but is in some souvenir shop, he could see her from where he's waiting.

It's a small package that came with a set of notes inside an envelope. Ichigo thanks the clerk, takes the package, and opens the envelope. It's all from Kyoto.

Before reading the notes, he looks for Rukia, she's now over at the cash register, looking at the bunny stationery.

"Kurosaki-kun, congratulations on scoring the beautiful Kuchiki-san as your girlfriend! I heard you two are already living together! I think you are too young for that but what the hell! Here's a special gift, and Yorouichi sends her love."

There are things it said that he should probably clarify first but his aunt Yorouichi sending her love? His Aikido-master, can-crush-your-skull-between-her-thighs-yet-you're-still-grateful aunt sending her love?

"P.S. Finish your education, kids. I don't want your parents to be disappointed in me."

Ichigo folds it and finds another note.

"P.P.S. I bet she's there with you right now."

He freezes, folds it as well, glances at Rukia, and finds another note.

"P.P.P.S I know I'm right."

This fucker, Ichigo thinks, his uncle continues the good tradition of assholery well. The last note is accompanied by a high-definition photo of his uncle's actual thumbs up.

Ichigo folds all the notes and shoves them in his back pocket, promising to put his uncle through a wall sometime in the future using his aunt's - his wife - own Aikido techniques for making him and Rukia travel.

The special gift his uncle says is a cheap boxed red wine he's pretty sure available for a discount at the 24/7 convenience store next door. His uncle also wrote on its label, huge sharpie scribbles of: DATENIGHT.

.

.

.

.

.

"What did you get this time?" Rukia asks, when he exits the post office. She doesn't expect anyone to send her anything, but she's content to look around. She's got some stationery - it's a small one with bunny prints, the kind they sell behind the cash register.

"Nothing, some stupid box," says Ichigo, staring ahead, then, "sorry, it's probably not worth your time." He doesn't know how his uncle and aunt knew about Rukia and that they got some crucial details wrong.

Rukia nods, it's none of her business - the bit about the box, but disagrees with what he said about her time. They have time, the entire lunch and afternoon, some time to waste on something, so she asks, "Ichigo, is your offer still standing?"

.

.

.

.

That night, they had a somewhat decent-ish, okay-ish, not-perfect-ish dinner - none of their usual convenience-store fare. Ichigo keeps his date night box wine out of sight in one of the cupboards, it's label turned away. Rukia took initiative in cooking, which both surprised and horrified Ichigo because he did not know the extent of her cooking skills:

There is some pasta here somewhere, Ichigo hears her say, rummaging through his cupboard.

Maybe, it's time to buy a refrigerator.

Ichigo only plans to lightly hover, just enough to be sure she won't burn the house down, then he catches her staring at the pot boiling two different pasta types.

"Oy, capellini and spaghettini are not the same," Ichigo says firmly, in a didactic mode. He rushes over and stands in front of the boiling pot. She just looks at him, she couldn't see the problem. Most commercial pasta looks like sticks, 12-inch sticks to be precise, some even have fun shapes, like bowties, but they all cook the same way: dumped in a pot of boiling water.

"They have different boiling points. They have different thickness, you see, you need to know this or you'll end up with overcooked and undercooked pasta," Ichigo explains, trying to see if he can salvage her work, he can't.

"How am I supposed to know all that?" she says, incredulous, and thinks: he can probably make fresh pasta from scratch.

Ichigo shoots her a dirty look, but his heart is beating fast, "at least read the box."

"Well, according to the box, we will end up with overcooked and undercooked pasta," Rukia answers simply, "because it's the last box."

Ichigo answers, "we can pick the good ones and discard the bad ones and re-boil some, but we should not waste food. We'll eat them. I have cheese, that should improve it."

"I give up, you should probably just do the sauce, too," she says, somewhat still in good humor.

Of course, Ichigo still runs his own kitchen, "all right, get out."

Their dinner is composed of slightly crunchy and mushy pasta with a good tomato. garlic, and basil sauce, but Ichigo added some expensive, fancy artisan cheese so that should be okay.

.

.

.

.

.


a/n: thanks for the reviews last ch, i'm sorry my replies are late. also, i managed to include man bun ichigo in this which i think is a glow-up. (thanks to the i/r discord folks)