AN: Two-for-one chapter deal! Warning: If the word 'HEC' doesn't mean anything to you, you haven't read the previous chapter. :)


Rukia walked to her private study room on muscle memory, enraptured by her phone as she reread the conversation there. For the fifth time.

She'd allowed herself to daydream, in the past, about talking to Protector15 directly. She'd wondered what it would be like to have a conversation with him that wasn't in front of hundreds of strangers. It wasn't an impossible idea. Many streamers found friends- and later, stream moderators- in the most loyal and trustworthy viewers.

But Protector had declined the offer, even though he played the role well enough unofficially. Rukia was disappointed when he turned it down, sometimes thinking of it in the months since. Even though he cited something about difficulties in his life that interfered. Still, he'd continued to watch nearly every stream. He didn't hold back in chat. But she respected his privacy on the matter. She understood how some things simply couldn't be shared online. If he wished to keep barriers up between himself and others, she couldn't judge him for it.

But for him to reach out so suddenly, and in a private message…? It was a shock she was unprepared for. Worse, still, he messaged her during class. Their conversation was brief, almost awkward. But it was something.

She didn't know anything about him, she realized. He'd given only brief hints during his messages in the stream chat. He referenced having to go to events for his sisters a few times, and that he didn't actually play video games. He was as likely to make fun of her in chat as he was to come to her defense, or to the defense of anyone the target of bullying. It didn't matter if it was someone in chat or in her public messaging server. Through it all, he was never mean-spirited. No, his barbs were either in jest, or playful bantering. She'd never detected malice from him in the many months he'd been a viewer.

Even as she settled into her private study room, the excitement, the rush of pleasant surprise, lingered.

But there was an undercurrent of warning, as well. A honed skill that had kept her strong and independent throughout her life. Few people could be trusted in the world, and even fewer in the realm of internet celebrities. There were countless stories of fanatic viewers fueled by delusions of romance, stalking obsessively. Rukia was fortunate her face and voice were altered, her identity kept safe from those with misguided intentions. Nevertheless, It was something all celebrities contended with. Even someone like Chappy with her modest following.

She knew so little about Protector. Even after nearly two years of 'speaking' with him over the stream- her over video, and him typing in chat. It was like peering through fogged glass; On some days, she could detect a whisper of melancholy in him, when his usual spirit was lacking. Sometimes she asked how he was doing. Too often, the reply was simply 'rough day.' It wasn't her place to pry, not on a public stream.

But over time, the melancholy seemed to ebb away. He grew bolder in his jabs at her choice in animals and her artistic ability. He was less forgiving when someone in chat acted out of line.

He even complimented her, every once in a while. Somewhat.

She remembered when he said she had a nice voice.

Rukia shook herself of the memory. She scrolled through their recent conversation again, absorbing every word, trying to extract deeper meaning through sheer will. Her phone lagged noticeably, making the suspense of it frustratingly worse.

Perhaps she could get to know him and prove that he wasn't a creepy stalker in search of her used bath towels.

He wasn't a stranger. Talking to him felt as if talking to an old friend, separated for a long period of time and finally able to reconnect.

She tried to remember the last time she made a new friend. She'd met Hanatarou when his mother worked at the adoption offices during the extensive adoption processes that brought her into the Kuchiki family. That was years ago.

The excitement welled within her again, causing her to smile softly.

It wouldn't hurt to keep talking with him, perhaps even learn about him. Or even share more about herself. Her life as Rukia Kuchiki was safe and secure, hidden by the anonymity of the internet. It was a warm blanket of comfort which kept all judgment at bay, sheltering her from the complications of her other life.

Then, Renji burst through the study room door, babbling about falling in love and Colonel Sanders.

Rukia blinked, processing. "What?"

"I think I'm in love with Colonel Sanders."

She sighed. "I was afraid of this."

He blinked. "N-No! It's not what you think!"

"He's not a real person, Renji. We've been over this."

"No! Shit- Ya don't understand," he leaned on the back of an empty chair, staring downwards and trying to corral his thoughts into a semblance of words. "I met this girl, and- she was yelling at people, and she was strong, and she was dressed as the Colonel."

Rukia stared, hoping for more of an explanation.

There was none.

She checked her phone for messages. "Just because a dream was vivid doesn't mean it was real. Have you eaten food today that wasn't KFC?"

"It wasn't-" He grunted. "No."

Rukia idly peered up from her phone. "Eat something that isn't fried. Your mind will be clearer for it."

Renji tutted. "Wait! I've got proof!" He frantically revealed a small, crushed button with the Martial Arts Club logo. He grinned. "She left this behind. She's gotta be in the club!"

"Colonel Sanders is in the Martial Arts Club?"

"Yeah. I mean- No! It's a woman. She's gotta be in the club. And I'm gonna find her-" He stopped, eyes wide, before smirking. "Just like Cinderella."

Rukia paused, frowning. "Are you Cinderella, or is she?"

"S-She is! I'm the prince trying ta find her."

She cast a deadpan look. "Cinderella doesn't sell fried chicken, Renji."

"Shut up! I'm in love," he said, and Rukia could pinpoint the exact moment when he departed from reality. More than he usually was. He gazed at the pin with a tender smirk. "I'll find ya."

Rukia shot Renji another deadpan stare. "Idiot. You can't fall in love with someone because they're dressed like Colonel Sande-"

Her phone buzzed with a new message. Her gaze darted to the screen, instantly scouring the notification for a certain username.

Instead, it was an email from her literature professor. Something about an upcoming extra credit opportunity and the campus theater production. She dismissed the notification, resisting the urge to sigh in disappointment. Every phone alert since literature class had sent her heart racing. It was getting very tiresome very quickly.


Every person has some method of calming down after a stressful day, to relax their mind and body from the struggles of daily life. Television, perhaps. Or coloring books.

For Ichigo, he usually watched Chappy.

This was unfortunate, as his goal that evening was to think about anything else.

After debating with himself for twenty minutes, he finally worked on homework instead.


The stream that night didn't go exactly as planned.

Despite setting up her streaming software the exact same as she always did, the audio wouldn't load. Then, once that was working, the software refused to show the active game window. A black box stared back at her, eliciting muttered curses. She restarted the computer two times before everything worked as it should have.

It was amazing how technology could be so fickle, as if the universe itself decided to make things difficult for its own amusement. It was bad enough her phone was especially laggy, as of late.

Chappy went on the air a full twenty minutes late, a number inexcusable to Rukia. She gave a curt apology before jumping right into one of her favorite games of all time- a multiplayer team-based fantasy game called Soul Reapers 2.

Her gaze shifted every few seconds to the list of usernames watching the stream. Strangely, Protector15 was missing. Rukia frowned. She'd thought their conversation had gone well. Maybe she was mistaken? Before she could mentally spiral down the rabbit hole of what-ifs, debating coincidences and possibilities, Hanatarou sent her a private message.

Hana4life: Is everything okay?

She forced herself to focus on the game menu screen. "Ah. Sorry. I'm fine." Eager to accept the distraction, she started a new game on a public server.

Soul Reapers 2 had a wide range of characters to play as, each with unique abilities and options for upgrades. Each one of them invoking a different playstyle. That meant players of all kinds could find at least one character they resonated with- and for Rukia, that was Sode No Shirayuki, an ice/snow type ethereal woman with magical abilities. She selected the woman basked in whites, pale as the moon. It was her main character by far, and she'd perfected every aspect of play. There was even a rumor the game studio itself made minor balancing tweaks to the character's stats based on Chappy's expert feedback.

But none of that seemed to matter that night, because she was losing miserably.

"What the hell?"

Chappy's avatar squinted at her screen.

She'd lost five matches in a row, all against random opponents. People with levels far lower than her.

Every attack seemingly dodged; each counter-strategy was in vain. Her teammates fared even worse than she did. No matter how quickly they tried to adapt or move, the enemy team was already in place, instantly striking with impossible precision. Aim was very important with certain characters. And when used at a very high level, could take out an enemy in a single shot.

It was infuriating.

Staring at the screen with a suspicious frown, she respawned in the match. Carefully looping around a set of feudal Japanese-style buildings, she elegantly leapt out of enemy view. Then, just as she tried to strike-

Bam!

"What?"

Staring, she quickly switched to the enemy killcam- showing the last few seconds from the enemy's point of view. It was an impossible shot; they had no way to know her character was even in that part of the map, let alone that she was lurking just past that rooftop. And then the aim was perfect. The crosshairs flew directly to her character's head with uncanny precision.

It was something she'd seen before.

"Hackers," she practically growled. "Idiots! You're not fooling anyone!"

The word typically conjured images of men in large, black leather trench coats and sunglasses. Or mischievous teens in hoodies bent over a laptop screen glowing in the dark. The kind who stole information from company networks or changed grades.

But this was a different kind of hacker.

The chat picked up speed, messages flying rapidly by. PicTexts expressing anger and horror were thrown into the mix.

The problem Rukia was experiencing wasn't anything new to the video game world. Since the dawn of history, when a competition was held, there was someone wanting to cheat at it. It didn't matter how easy or difficult the competition was, or even if there was an award. People cheated simply because they wanted to. Sometimes, they did it because they were bored. Especially if it was as simple as paying a thousand yen to download a program, full of handy tools that let you see enemies through walls, hidden in-game views, and perfect aim with every single shot.

Edgy fourteen-year-old boys loved it.

Rukia glared at the screen, her hands balling into fists against her desk. Quickly, she used the in-game system to report the hacking accounts. There was nothing more despicable in the gaming world, she knew. It was a blight on the industry as a whole.

"Fools. What could you hope to accomplish?" Her voice was hard, dripping with disdain. "Your victories are not your own. You gain nothing by pretending to be skilled at the game- it's only a matter of time until your program no longer works, and you are forced to show yourself as the skillless noob you really are. It's nothing short of despicable!"

More messages appeared, all of them expressing rage and anger at the hackers. Others cheered her on. She smirked.

While she was distracted, her teammates tried to fight on without her- to pitiful results.

The word 'Defeat' bled across the screen in an old-style script.

Chappy let out a long, frustrated huff in annoyance.

It would have been nice to unwind that day. But foolish hackers had ruined her night, choosing their own fragile egos at her expense.

And Protector15 hadn't shown up for any of it.

With a decisive click, she exited Soul Reapers 2. Then she started a new game of Kingdom Kings 2, a very different game that involved building settlements and armies in medieval Europe.

She opened a cheat code box and typed 'Vroom Vroom'. Then she copy-pasted it fifteen times. An army of brightly colored cobra cars appeared in the center of the screen, each of them far faster than any horse or boat held by her enemies. With two clicks, she brought her gasoline-powered forces to bear on the fledgling enemy town. Each car fired a steady beam of bullets that reduced any building to rubble in a matter of seconds.

The enemy king had one archer.


Throughout Friday, Rukia checked her phone at least three times every hour. No new messages from Protector.

She picked at her lunch while sitting in the cafeteria,, her back against a wall with a moderate sense of privacy. Their conversation was burned into her memory by then, every line, emoji, and PicText. She'd assumed it had gone well, that he was on positive terms with her.

And yet, something seemed different in that conversation compared to his usual attitude on stream. Less certain, somehow. But most damning of all was his absence from the fiasco of a stream the night before. Very unusual. At the very least, he usually popped up briefly to say he wouldn't be watching. It was rude, she realized, for him not to do so, unless he had a very good reason.

Why would he message her if he had no intention of speaking further? Had she said something and unknowingly turned him away? It was difficult to tell such things, having no idea of his voice or expressions; no inflections of voice or look to his eyes, saying the things that went unsaid.

Were they friends, or was he an awe-struck fan? No, she realized- he'd never held back when speaking to her before on stream. And he certainly was not a stranger. Not in the traditional sense.

It was truly tiresome. She needed to know, one way or another.

Taking a deep breath, she typed a message. There was a delay as her phone caught up to it, the app frustratingly lagging behind, doing nothing for her nerves. It had been bothering her a lot lately.

Chappy: Oi! You missed my stream last night.

To her relief, he started to reply right away.

Protector15: Hey

Protector15: Sorry I had to leave so suddenly before. I had class

There was a slight pause

Protector15: and something came up last night. Sorry.

Confusion still lingered, but a weight was lifted nonetheless. She smirked.

Chappy: You have class? That's strange. I couldn't tell, judging from how you criticize me on stream

Protector15: Shut up, rabbit

Rukia couldn't help the rush of it all; of seeing his messages, how quickly she knew how to respond. She thought quickly, picking through a myriad of questions she'd harbored about him.

Chappy: Are you a student?

Protector15: Yeah. University

Chappy: I see.

Rukia paused, her thumbs hovering over the phone screen. Carefully, she replied:

Chappy: So am I

Protector15: I thought you'd be busy with school instead of streaming

Chappy: Is that surprising? I'm fully capable of doing both. I've never had a problem.

Chappy: Is it true you don't play video games at all?

Protector15: Yeah. Never been good at them.

Chappy: And yet you mock me on stream?

She added an emoji to reflect the amused smirk she wore in real life.

Protector15: I don't have to play video games to tell when you're losing

Chappy: I only lose when there's a hacker.

Protector15: BS. You can't blame every loss on hackers, that doesn't make sense

Chappy: Of course I can. If it weren't for them, I'd win all the time. You missed the hackers last night.

He sent a deadpan emoji. She smirked. Using the built-in PicText gallery, she looked at the options and settled on one that said 'Haters gonna hate' with red and yellow words, accented by animated flames in the corners.

He sent a PicText back, this time of the letters 'BS' in blue against white.

Protector15: How do you explain losing at single-player games? How is that the hackers' fault?

Chappy: I don't know. I'm not a hacker.

Elsewhere, in another part of campus, Ichigo yelled at his phone. "That doesn't even make sense!"