Author's Note: Hey all! Sorry this is such a short chapter, I plan to drop an extra chapter within the next day or so to make up for it. In this short and sweet chapter, we get to see where Renji is in his life now, yay! Also, totally unrelated but I'm currently listening to an audiobook from Byakuya's English VA and I can't help but feel like Byakuya is reading to me, LOL, I love it. Please don't forget to review, subscribe, etc. Thanks as always for reading.

Chapter 5 content warnings: tobacco use, but that's about it

Disclaimer: Bleach and its characters are the intellectual property of Kubo Tite. I do not own Bleach or its characters.


The redhead barely glanced up from his work as he heard the door swing open.

"You're an hour late. What gives?" His amber eyes remained focused on his work until he received no reply. "I said what gives?"

Rukia stood, drenched in the doorway, with an exasperated look.

"Nothing," she answered bluntly.

"Well, shit, you're soaking wet and look like you've seen a ghost." The brawny, tanned man stood up from his chair, rolling up his shirt sleeves to reveal biceps covered with stark black tribal tattoos. "I'm gonna find a towel."

Rukia remained frozen in the doorway, dripping onto the floor below. The umbrella given to her by the mysterious man earlier that night fell to the ground with a clash.

"God," Renji's eyebrows pulled together in concern as he returned with the towel, draping it around the petite woman's shoulders. "What happened? Please, just sit down."

Rukia was shaking as she sat on the couch. Whether that was from shock or the cold, neither knew.

"Are you hurt?" Renji looked her over for any noticeable signs of any injuries.

"No," she finally spoke, weakly clinging to the towel around her shoulders.

"Then what's going on?" The redheaded man sat on the couch beside her, a look of distress flooding his chestnut eyes.

Rukia used the towel to dry the ends of her dripping black hair before gingerly opening up her purse and finding her late sister's photo.

"This." She handed the photo over to large tanned hands.

"What the–" Renji examined the photo closely, "This looks like you but with sad eyes or somethin'."

"That's my…." Rukia barely managed the words, "That's my… sister."

"Holy shit." Renji's eyes opened up wide. "I mean, holy fucking shit."

"I-I met this man, and he…he…." She curled into herself again, bringing her head down on one of the decorative couch pillows.

"You met up with someone you don't know by yourself?" He was bewildered and utterly shocked, setting the photo of the sad Rukia look alike on the table. "Man, why would you do that? You could've been kidnapped or somethin'."

"He told me he knew my family, which was a request I couldn't refuse." Rukia held one of the pillows close to her chest. "And you can't deny that woman looks just like me. It's so… scary."

"So this guy," Renji started, getting up from his seat to wander over to an electric tea kettle he had hooked up by his desk. "What the hell did he want, anyway? Just to tell you about your sister? Why didn't she just do it herself?"

Rukia stared off at some point in the distance, practically dissociating as she spoke. "She's dead."

"Fuck!" Renji yelped out as he accidentally spilled some hot water on his hand in his stupor. "Rukia, I–"

"Save your sympathy for someone who needs it," she mumbled into the pillow.

"Sure," the tattooed man mumbled as he poured them a cup of hot coffee, "And this guy knew your sister somehow?"

"Married." The despondent woman replied. "Only for a few years, I think."

"Damn, poor guy." Renji returned to the couch to place their coffee cups in front of them. "So, what's his master plan by telling you all this shit?"

Rukia took the warm cup into her tiny hands, blowing away some of the steam, "Adoption."

Renji jumped again, causing the liquid in his cup to come precariously close to burning him again. "For the love of–"

"I guess this guy is super rich." Rukia didn't seem disturbed in the least by Renji's struggles.

"Oh, rich people, great." He rolled his eyes before taking a sip of his molten hot coffee, flinching back and burning his tongue. "You know, those rich people ain't shit. They act like they understand us and whatnot, but they never will. They don't know what it's like to be seen as second-class citizens."

"Oh, trust me," Rukia sighed, "I've heard your spiel before."

"Tell me I'm wrong."

"But think about it for a moment, would you?" Rukia set her cup down, her face twisting into an expression of deep conflict. "All these student loans. My bills. My rent. And my career as an artist, is it supposed to pay for those?"

"I'm doing just fine." Renji supplied with a shrug of his shoulders.

"You're also a man, ten years older than me, and a tattoo artist who runs his own shop. I appreciate your mentorship, but our goals and lives are different."

The tattooed man resisted the urge to pour himself a whiskey and instead decided to take another sip of coffee. "Fair enough. So what do you wanna do? Take this random dude's adoption offer and his money?"

"To be honest with you, I have no idea. The man was a total closed book. It was so freaking weird, Renji." Rukia started to brighten up a bit as she continued with her coffee in hand.

"Ugh. Those closed-off types are always so annoying." Renji rolled his eyes. "I get it. It sucks that his wife, and your sister, died, but also like… that doesn't give you an excuse to be an asshole."

"I don't know that he was an asshole; he was just," She struggled to find the right word to describe the man she had just met. "Cold."

"Got it." Renji dug into his pocket until he found a pack of half-empty cigarettes. He offered one to his friend in earnest.

"I thought you quit already." Rukia glared in disapproval.

"Oh, I think this situation warrants an excuse for us both to smoke." He nudged the pack towards her once more before she sighed and gave in.

"Just one." She leaned forward and allowed Renji to light her a cigarette.

"What's this guy's name anyway? Mr. Mysterious Widow?" Renji blew a puff of smoke through his mouth and nose like a lazy dragon.

"Uh, he said his family name is Kazuki. But I don't have any proof for that or anything else he said for that matter."

"Oh, hell, Rukia. You're gonna get yourself killed one of these days."

"I don't need some big tattooed idiot to stand guard for me, thanks." Rukia tapped the end of her smoke, unaware that the ashes flew all over the couch.

"Watch it, you little piglet. You're making a mess."

"What are you gonna do about it, pineapple?"

"I told you not to call me that!" He tossed one of the pillows in her direction. After that, they sat for a while, smoking their cigarettes in silence while they thought.

"I'm gonna meet him again," Rukia mumbled while putting out her smoke in the skull-shaped ashtray on the table.

"Please tell me you'll take someone with you. You're probably gonna get sold into sex trafficking or something." Renji had vowed to only smoke one cigarette but was currently pulling a second one out.

"Who's going to come with me?" The shorter girl looked unamused. "My dead sister's ghost?"

Renji couldn't resist a laugh, "Shit, you're dark."

They both shared a laugh at the darkness of it all and the weirdness of the entire situation itself.

"Alright, well, then I guess I'll come with you." Renji lit the second cigarette and brought it to his lips. "If I need to kick some weirdo's ass, I will gladly do so."

Rukia swatted the second-hand smoke away with a scowl, "Fine."

"Hey," Renji added as he took another drag. "On a serious note. I'm here if you need someone to talk to."

Rukia smiled softly, looking like her sister but with more color on her face and more light in her eyes. "Thank you, but I need help finding inspiration for my dissertation project right now."

"Ah, yeah," The older male snuffed out his smoke and leaned forward with intrigue, "What do you have so far?"

"Hardly anything." Rukia frowned, reaching into her bag to pull out her notebook. She showed Renji a few of her sketches. "But I have an idea now."

"And that is?" Renji flipped through the sketchbook as he spoke.

"I'm going to tell her story." Rukia picked up the photo of her sister again, looking into the eyes of her lost sibling somberly. "Through art, I think I should tell her story."

"Rukia…" Renji put an arm around his friend. "I think that is a wonderful idea. Let's figure out how we can bring your idea to life."

"Thank you," Rukia's face fell. She was on the brink of tears.

"Hey, it's okay." Renji squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "Maybe we can do this another time. You've been through a lot."

Rukia nodded, quickly getting to her feet before gathering her sketches. She had always been the kind of person who was quick to hide her pain, someone who wanted to feel things privately, not publicly. Renji was doing her a favor by letting her go.

"Thanks again." She fixed some of her short dark hair that had fallen out of place. "I better get going if I want to catch the train home."

She waved goodbye to her mentor before heading out the door and back into the drizzle. Renji watched her go before he turned to notice the umbrella she had dropped was still sitting by the door. He picked it up and thought of going after her with it, but she was already too far away. He glanced down at the glossy wooden handle of the undoubtedly expensive umbrella. This couldn't have been Rukia's. He noticed an engraved "K" near the bottom of the handle, and the distant memory of his friend crossed his mind.

No, it couldn't be. This mysterious guy's name is Kazuki, after all.

He sighed as he recalled the childhood friend he hadn't seen for over 15 years. He briefly recalled his smile and his rambunctious nature before the sweet memories turned bitter.

You can't trust those kinds of people as far as you can throw them, though. Being involved with them is truly more trouble than it's worth.

He tried to write off the memories as unfavorable, but he knew deep down inside that his friend hadn't been cut from the same cloth as the others.