Disclaimer: Bleach is the work of the maestro Kubo Tite.

Mirror Mask

Chapter Two –Come out and play

Come with me. Let me spirit you away. If you won't, I'll take you anyway.

They should have maps, Kurosaki Ichigo thought, the sort with a round, red dot labeled 'You Are Here'. But, the boy reckoned that the confusing lay out of the sprawling Kuchiki mansion was part of its defense strategy. The invading enemy would be doomed to wander in circles, lost in its giant structure. If it was any consolation, they could not have picked a more scenic place to rest in peace. The gardens were immaculate.

Was this the fourth courtyard he had passed through? Or the fifth?

He finally found the wing he had been looking for after backtracking a bit. The shoji doors were closed. Was she sleeping? To his annoyance, Ichigo realized he had been nervously shuffling his feet. He stopped. Why did he have to give a damn about disturbing someone who had more or less invaded his bedroom, and claimed his futon closet as her domain?

Ichigo cleared his throat, and called out, "Yo, Rukia."

After a moment, he heard the muffled thumps of footsteps. The shoji door slid open. Sunlight from the courtyard slanted down across the figure in the doorway.

It was an unwritten universal law that the customary response in a situation like this required a sharp intake of breath by the male lead. Ichigo fulfilled that obligation –but, for very different reasons.

Rukia looked terrible. Her face appeared pale and drained. There was a certain frailness about the clearly-outlined bones in her hand gripping the doorframe.

"What are you doing here?"

What are you doing out of the 4th Division recuperation wards? After the furious battles with the Seireitei Death Gods, after Captain Aizen dealt you the mortal wound that left you bloodied on the dirt.

The intake of each labored breath, the way he had still struggled to get to his feet to save her. Pushing against pain, and fatigue for her sake.

A hurt look flashed across Rukia's face before Ichigo saw her shields slamming into place. Her eyes cooled. An unreadable expression fell into place as she iced-over to conceal her thoughts.

"Whoa.. you look bad," Ichigo said loudly, as tactful as ever.

Rukia's mouth set into a thin line and she glared at him.

Looks like her mood matches her appearance.

Her eyes quickly scanned him from head to toe for visible injuries. Rukia said dryly, "Ichigo, kindly remove your foot from that pot. You're stepping on the 200 year old bonsai Nii-sama brought in yesterday."

Ichigo took his foot off the tiny flower pot with its equally miniature occupant. "Oh, sorry," he said. Then, he stared thoughtfully at the shrub before looking back at Rukia. "So.. are you older than that tree?" he smirked, jerking a thumb at it.

Rukia shot him a withering look. Ichigo inwardly grinned in triumph. At least that was more like the fiery girl he knew her to be. He shrugged. "Bonsai isn't the usual gift for the ill."

"The ill?" Rukia repeated coldly. "I'm not sick."

She looked down at her feet. Abruptly, she raised her head with a smile that was too bright plastered across her lips. "Come on. Let me show you around the Seireitei. I'm granting you a once in a lifetime opportunity here. Be grateful."

Why was she using that false cheerful façade on him? Ichigo frowned, and stepped up to her onto the veranda. The floorboards immediately gave alarmingly loud creaks. He froze, waiting for the groaning planks to collapse beneath his feet.

Rukia burst out laughing at the look of panic on his face. Ichigo eyed the mirthful girl, and hesitantly shifted his weight from foot to foot, the floorboards protested noisily. He blew out a breath. "Whoa, your ancient floor here is in serious need of repair."

Rukia smiled. "It was made that way, dummy."

Ichigo said evenly, "Made that way, huh? Hate to be the one to tell you this. But I think the contractors did a bad job on your floors."

She rolled her eyes. "Just think of it as an antiquated alarm system. No intruder can sneak across without alerting the household."

Rukia watched the boy bounce lightly on his toes. The floorboards gratified him with a Creeak-squeak-a-squeak… She smirked. "You're such a child, Ichigo. Are you done playing yet?"

oooOooo

Ichigo kept his back to the wall, and shuffled gingerly along the street. He wasn't exactly doing this because flattening himself against the bricks would render him less noticeable. He just didn't want to get surprised from behind –namely by the Captain of the 11th Division. He wasn't going to risk his life in the mortal realm and his soul in this immortal world for a death-match with Captain Zaraki.

Rukia raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"Avoiding Captain Zaraki. I'm not mad enough to take up his offer for a rematch," he snorted.

If Ichigo had turned around just then, he would've caught the stunned expression on Rukia's face. Could this boy have actually fought the 11th Division's Captain? How much more don't I know about you, Ichigo…

The boy poked his head around the corner, and scanned the entrance of the Shinigami Academy. The coast was clear. He didn't think the crazy eye-patched captain was actually the sort of man who would fit into classroom scenery.

Ichigo stared at the imposing multi-windowed building. Like many of the structures in Soul Society, there was a touch of traditional design in the way the shingled roof curved at either end. To the young boy, Soul Society seemed like a giant jidaigeki movie set. Hell, he knew he was in a totally different world all together the moment his embarrassing Shinigami get up actually helped him to blend in the scenery of this period drama town.

Rukia tapped him on the shoulder. "This way, Ichigo. They said that Ishida and the others are at the outdoor training range."

Someone had set up the mato targets on the field. In the distance, Ichigo spotted Ishida, Inoue, and Chad with a group of Academy students and a few black-clad Shinigami. The news of the Quincy Archer's prowess with the bow and arrow had spurred some of the Death Gods to request for a demonstration.

Ishida Uryuu was only doing it because those sneaky, no-good Shinigami had pleaded with Inoue to intercede on their behalf. Besides, he was merely going to demonstrate basic Kyudo techniques, not Quincy lore. He would not have conceded to such a thing even if he still had his Quincy powers.

Ishida stepped into position, clad in the stark black and white borrowed robes. "Kyudo is the Way of the Bow. It is not completely about hitting the target," he said, his voice even and cool. "If you can correctly release the arrow from the bow… If you can find it in yourself to balance every aspect…"

He took in the weight and feel of the long bow. His left hand, encased in a glove, gripped the bowstring and arrow. The Quincy turned his face towards the target, and raised the bow over his head. "Windage, yardage, every movement made…"

In one smooth movement, Ishida swiftly brought the bow down and fully drew it. The Quincy marksman released the arrow. It flew across the range, in a passage straight and true for the heart of the target. It connected with a solid thump.

"Holding your position after the release is Zanshin." He reached for the second arrow, and continued, "In another sense, Zanshin is a state of awareness –enabling one to even stop an arrow in mid-flight."

From afar, Ichigo laughed to Rukia, "Looks like Ishida is actually giving lessons in your Academy. Let's get closer so we can hear what he's saying."

Ishida said calmly, "For example…" Then, the Quincy swung around rapidly. His eyes narrowed, sunlight gleamed across the edges of his spectacles.

Ichigo froze, "Hey, he's pointing that at –!"

The released arrow carved a path towards the orange haired target. In sheer panic, Ichigo caught the deadly projectile with his bare hands, stopping it inches from final destination. The class burst into applause. Ichigo exploded in a fit of temper.

The small audience scattered as the fuming boy made a beeline for the Quincy. Ishida coolly pushed his glasses up, smirking from behind his hand. "My fingers just… slipped, Kurosaki."

"You expect me to believe that sorry excuse? You were aiming for the spot between my eyes! Your fingers slipped?" Ichigo raged, "Well, my fingers are going to slip right around your throat and –!"

Ichigo made violent strangling motions in mid-air.

Rukia hastily stepped in. "Araa.. Time to go! Say good bye to everyone, Kurosaki-kuun!" she insisted, in the saccharine sweet voice that had Ichigo labeling her as Little Miss Faker.

Ichigo's classmates watched as the petite Shinigami easily dragged the considerably bigger boy off the training range.

oooOooo

The strong wind ruffled the treetops, scattering leaves across the ground. Ichigo's robes whipped around his body as he took in the wonderful sight of the sunlight sparkling across the ­Seireitei Lake. He marveled aloud, "Whoa, this place is huge."

"What were you expecting –a lily pond?" Rukia teased.

The boy frowned. "Which genius did the landscaping for this place? That's impossible!" he stated flatly, pointing at a pavilion set on the tranquil waters. He eyed the step stone bridge that stretched from shore to pavilion. The distance was ridiculous in comparison to the standard crossings back home.

"Watch," Rukia said, with a gleam in her eyes.

Three elaborately dressed ladies across the lake stopped at the water's edge. The first daintily raised the hem of her kimono. Ichigo choked. She wasn't actually going to attempt that, was she? He really didn't feel like going for a dip in his bandages when she toppled into the lake.

She trod lightly onto the path, Ichigo prepared to kick off his slippers. Then, he stared in dismay as the line of three ladies gracefully made their way across the long step stone bridge. Not once did any of the elegant women bat an eyelid as they practically floated over the waterway in an amazing feat of balance.

As if they had sensed his eyes on them, the young ladies turned to look back at him when they reached the pavilion. Delicate fans snapped open to hide their tittering from sight. Ichigo blushed.

"They are Seireitei noble-born ladies. They've had some training," Rukia said.

Ichigo wondered if she was referring to the poise they possessed, or the outrageous flirting exhibit going on under the pavilion's roof.

She took a seat on the bench below a tree. The leaves threw a dappled shadow over her. A light breeze carrying stray petals on its current, brushed softly against her cheeks.

From here, Rukia could see the white tower of the Senzaikyuu gleaming in the sun. The Shrine of Penance rose from the treetops, starkly visible against the blue heavens. She shivered, remembering the small sliver of sky in her window to the outside world at the very peak of the tower.

Her cage. Her prison. The walls that pressed down on her from all sides. Sakkiseki stones that leached her spirit off all will and hope, leaving only an empty vessel for its final journey to the funeral pyre.

Do you see that, Rukia? Through that window. The Soukyoku that will be used for your execution.

You can stare at it for the rest of your days… Think about the crimes you've committed…This is why the place is called the Tower of Repentance.

"The crimes I've committed," Rukia repeated softly to herself. Shame. Guilt.

Ichigo frowned and put a heavy hand on her shoulder. "Rukia? Rukia!"

Then, he stepped into her line of vision, eclipsing the white tower from view. She looked up blankly at him. Ichigo's brows furrowed with worry as he took in her deathly pale complexion, and the shadow beneath her eyes. He said shortly, "I think this is enough walking for you today. You need to rest."

Rukia's eyes narrowed, her hands fisted angrily. She shot back, "Rest? Don't treat me like a weakling, Ichigo!"

"Rukia, you've not recovered–"

"And since when do I take orders from you?" The annoyed Shinigami got to her feet, preparing to show him who was boss here by stomping off.

Rukia wavered. It began with a roaring in her ears, like an ocean drowning out Ichigo's voice calling her name. The ground tilted crazily beneath her feet. As if someone had picked up her world in one hand to spin it like a toy –the grassy land and lake flashed past, followed by the endless blue sky, chasing after the cold, white tower… Ichigo's anxious face. Then, there was darkness, and she saw no more.

Ichigo caught her before she fell, his arm embracing her thin shoulders. When she didn't respond to any of his calls, he swore with feeling. "Damn it, Rukia! I don't know my way from here to the 4th Division Medics."

He carefully shifted her limp body to his back. The alarmed noblewomen watching from afar gasped as the orange-haired boy, easily recognized as the ryoka everyone had been gossiping about –carried the Kuchiki girl, and vanished into thin air. The faint cloud of dust created from Ichigo's Shun-po settled to the ground.

oooOooo

Rukia awoke without the pomp and ceremony of groaning and pathetic flailing present at her last nightmare. She half-raised herself on her elbows, and took in her surroundings. A damp towel, smelling of herbs fell off her forehead to her lap. She was back in her room in the Kuchiki mansion. She guessed that it was already late into the night.

She tossed the medicated cloth into the washbasin beside her, and pushed off the futon blankets. Standing up, the girl made her way to the dressing table. She lit the paraffin lamp, and adjusted the flame in its glass shade.

The bright flame flickered momentarily as Rukia's gaze fell absently on the looking-glass. Her eyes widened in shock. In the reflection of her mirror –stood a figure on the veranda of her room, visible through the shoji doors thrown wide open.

Disbelief had her turning around on her heels to see him for herself. Panic sent her heart drumming loudly in the silent night.

There was the tell-tale creak of the Nightingale Floors singing the presence of the intruder on her engawa. Shun-po brought him inches from herself when she turned to confront him face to face.

Rukia stumbled, trying to back away. Her thrashing hand sent the mirror, and paraffin lamp sliding to the floor in an almighty crash of breaking glass.

Rukia's eyes were still fixed on the visage of the face not unlike Ichigo's. One last glimpse of the bone-white mask with ferocious crimson-streaks before the lone flame in her lamp was extinguished. A smile like the devil's own, eyes like a smoldering flame in the darkness.

How can it be?

Ichigo!

Author's Note: Ichigo said that Bonsai plants were an unusual gift, it refers to the superstition that potted plants are considered as ill omens for hospital patients. The word (nezuku) meaning "to take root" is similar to the word (netsuku) meaning "to be bedridden". Ishida is a lefty. Hence, the yugake glove on his left hand instead of the right.

Engawa (In Japanese architecture –the veranda surrounding a house.) And jidaigeki (a genre of film: period drama.)

Umi Kanshisha –I'm glad you liked the first chapters. Was worried since I was trying out something new. Because I was completing Rukia: MLAAR while writing this, the chapter just kept getting longer, and longer.. :P

Classiccomeback –Sorry about the long wait for this chapter. I'll be trying my best in this new project! A 'mind-numbed' Rukia, a variation of Ichigo's personalities and lots of research in Japanese customs involved.. This may just explode in my face. ;)