A/N: Well, it went from being about four pages to a hefty twelve on Word. That was staggering to me. So much so that I still cannot offer any author notes with long sentences. Lol. If you see any mistakes tell me if you wouldn't mind. I've reread this so many times I wouldn't be surprised if I missed something.
To all you guys asking for longer chapters, thank you. I appreciate your constructive criticism and look forward to your next reviews. :) Seriously, I smile when I see review alerts in my inbox.
Thank you.
Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix
(My heart opens itself to your voice)
Then She Attacks Me Like A Leo
Needless to say, things got awkward quick as they headed out in silence after getting the briefing. A shift of bodies, the soft swish of robes, and Rukia found herself nodding a polite thank you before stepping out in front of tenth division's captain (and now, her partner on the mission). What she didn't realize though, was that it had been done more out of need for a moment to think rather than for the gesture itself.
She would be staying in the Kurosaki household and he would have to contact the redheaded girl to allow him to stay a few days. Well, at least that's what Toushiro assumed.
This reflection led to the inevitable conclusion that they needed to talk, and thus, he needed to come up with something to say. Because obviously she was still stuck in her own thoughts, if her walking out with barely a regard of his presence was any indication.
"Kuchiki-" Somehow, calling out her name felt intrusive as they stepped out, squinting at the onslaught of sunshine.
The retraction of an outstretched hand—when had he raised it to try and touch her? Fingers curling as it fell to his side, Toushiro waited for the woman in question to turn to him with a subtle tilt to her head, a hand raised to shield a questioning gaze.
"We need to start planning how we're going to go about this." The silence stretched for a moment between them as their eyes met and he suddenly found he couldn't look away as Rukia's features slowly came into focus. "Do you have time?"
Nodding, her shoulders lifted in a small shrug. "Yes sir, I have plenty of time."
"Alright then, follow me to the office."
It wasn't really a long trip, but it felt strange knowing that her presence was behind him. There was a moment where the captain forgot he had company until he heard a tiny scrape as one of her sandals caught some dirt on the shingles off one of the many roofs. Running a hand through his hair, the young prodigy didn't notice how curious violet eyes followed his agile movements.
There was power in every step, Rukia realized as she followed closely behind. He radiated it. Every movement was sharp but deliberate—a deep contrast to those of the few males she was in close company with.
Ichigo's were humble, Renji's reckless, her own brother's refined. And somehow, even with all those categories surrounding her, she couldn't really say he was a part of any of those. The captain was a category all his own—what with his infamous intelligence, the sharp tongue, and deep sense of maturity about him.
There was influence in Toushiro Hitsugaya's silence, she finally concluded.
Other than a tiny exhale and the light tap of sandal-clad feet on roof tiles, the black haired young woman remained silent as they hit the final rooftop, feeling a strange shiver go down her spine when she felt her superior's gaze follow her soft land beside him.
"Come."
When they entered his office, it didn't surprise him in the least to find Matsumoto snoring away on the couch. What did catch him off guard though, was the fully finished stack on her desk—and the only reason he knew they were done was because he could tell that they had been organized. There were different little tabs sticking out in random patterns throughout the stack, each announcing the beginning of a separate task.
Going around the couch, he leafed through the pages briefly, then noticing why she had managed to finish her work—well really, why someone had managed to finish the work for her. He knew of her persuasion methods and figured some poor male victim had been reeled in without a problem in his absence—surely flirtation was involved, as was her usual method of choice.
Well. . . technically he hadn't told her to do the work herself.
"MATSUMOTO!"
Rukia jumped when he turned and his voice reverberated off of the walls, most surely startling everyone within a ten mile radius. Narrowed aquamarine eyes were blazing dangerously and two balled up fists trembled at his sides as he scowled. If looks could kill, Rukia figured the vice captain of the tenth division would've needed several lives (at least) to survive the look aimed her way.
Nonetheless, the woman in question sprawled on the couch didn't seem to agree (hadn't moved a muscle)—didn't even flinch at the sound of her name.
Throwing the stack in frustration on her desk, Rukia watched silently while trying her hardest not to snicker as he stalked to his own writing table (dragging his vice captain's chair with him), muttering something about incompetence before settling with a huff into his own seat and waving her over to the chair he had placed in front of the desk for her.
"Do you want me to. . ." She pointed a small finger towards the blonde on the couch.
"Don't bother. I'll take care of her personally before I leave." The glint in his eye as he gave a crooked smirk was anything but reassuring.
"Yes sir." The black haired young woman replied, quickly making her way to the offered chair. She didn't speak as he handed her a piece of paper and a brush—didn't seem to notice how his hand wavered just a tiny bit as their fingers brushed.
It was probably because she didn't feel the jolt that had started upon the momentary contact—or her superior's surprise at the feeling.
What. . . was that?
A deep, strangely pensive look overtook sharp features that flickered for a moment, and then he was watching her again, the proximity reminding the captain once again of the strange occurrences of late that were beginning to unsettle him deeply: the jolt just now, his reaction to her eyes. . . the guilt at the accidental insult yesterday. . .
". . . ya-taichou?" A small pale hand waving in his field of view broke abruptly through his train of thought. A heavy sigh and then palms rubbing at tired eyes before those were lowered and the full effort of his frown was aimed at her.
"More tired than I thought I guess. What were you saying?"
"It's alright, sir. I just was asking what your thoughts were on the matter."
"I don't know. Right now we really won't know anything until we actually get out there and get a hold of all the data the Shinigami over there have. There's been glitches in the system of communication lately, so I'm not surprised Yamamoto-Genryusai couldn't give us more."
He liked this. He could do this—this no-nonsense business approach to things. It helped settle his confusion and calm whatever strange things were floating about in his head. Especially now, with a woman who was drawing strange things out of him—a thought that would need consideration later when he had the time.
"We know the attacks have all been in areas with high concentrations of humans. These places are also where there would be a high chance of finding females."
Like yourself, he wanted to add. But then teal orbs met violet ones over the frantic scribbling of a brush to paper and the captain was quick to note the understanding of his implication in her gaze—she knew what words lingered there.
She wasn't stupid.
"Ideas?"
A churning silence as he took notes and she contemplated. Her eyes were a dark shade of indigo, mouth set into a crooked line and arms crossed over her chest, the brush forgotten on the desk.
"Usually high schools or shopping areas would be the most convenient place to find women . . . but I've also heard clubs are rather popular for girls in the age range."
Hesitation, and then slowly eyes reflecting nothing but full out revulsion raised to note her features with a dark scowl already threatening to take over his lips.
The brush in his grasp had stopped and was bleeding ink onto the paper.
"Clubs?" As in parties, as in loud obnoxious music, as in stuffy atmospheres, and bodies pressed intimately and suffocatingly into a tiny area?
Was that a snarl she heard?
Befuddled and slightly amused by his reaction (at least the part of her that wasn't intimidated by those scary teal eyes that were nearly drilling her into her seat), she quickly tried to backtrack.
"It doesn't mean that's necessarily where we'll find him, sir, but it certainly could be a possibility is all I'm saying." The way she fidgeted made him want to grab her hand and just set it on the table so she would stop. Of course he suppressed the urge, instead finding that he needed tea—or any sort of drink with caffeine or soothing effect would be nice if he was going to get through this without killing someone.
A heavy sigh, and then, "I'll be right back."
Curious violet eyes followed his retreating back until she could see him no more, wondering what it was that had suddenly called his attention but dutifully asking nothing.
Being a Kuchiki was always like that anyways, she thought wryly, what with her brother choosing to end and start conversations whenever he deemed fit and never having to give explanations to anyone below him—including her.
Still, they tended to have their reasons. Thus, Rukia would await the answers patiently (a trait that didn't come easily in her), offering her full support until the end.
But why was she thinking such strange thoughts?
Shaking her head as if that would help to clear the tangled webs forming there, violet eyes trailed around the room in offhand curiosity. Each division had its own subtle signature, and it always caught her attention how everyone, in their own way, added a whisper of themselves to the room. It was something she secretly delighted in, studying things inquisitively when sent on general tasks to the different divisions of Sereitei.
In a way, it felt like seeing little bits of people's hearts.
Matsumoto's desk was messy: papers, pens, brushes, and all sorts of office supplies scattered haphazardly all over the place (and inside as well, she had found out last time while looking for more ink). There were magazines among the stacks in the smaller drawers, and Rukia even did a double take once when she found a set of different shot glasses from several different human cities in Japan lined up in a neat little row in the final of three drawers.
Her taichou's desk was the complete opposite—something that made Rukia smile.
Everything had a place—the pens his vice captain had brought him (small, random souvenirs from areas she had visited), ink bottles, even the sticky notes and paper clips were well organized into their own little nooks and cups. The only personal thing she could find on his desk was a watch tucked into the pen cup.
It stuck out so much that her eyes lingered on it for a while in mild interest.
It had a thick black leather strap that was studded and a large face with silver roman numerals (a term she had recently learned from Ichigo). What was that style that she had heard of from Orihime? Punk? It kind of reminded her of that.
The sound of Matsumoto shifting on the couch startled her enough to the point where she began to feel guilty (and nosy), and so instead chose to sit quietly with her gaze glued to the papers before her.
The quiet was calming in a way, here with a sleeping woman on the couch and the captain in his rooms. And if someone were to walk in now it would be quite the curious scene should they note the deep contemplative looks that were mirrored on two very different faces in two distant rooms—one staring at paper, the other at a kettle of boiling water.
It would also be rather curious—should it be noted-- the oxymoron they created in that moment of calm. How one could observe the way they both dipped their heads, or how she shuffled her feet and sat submissively (as she was taught) and he crossed his arms over his chest in a manner of power.
Sode no Shirayuki and Rukia conversed on small matters, things about general housekeeping before they left, and debates on how long the mission might take them.
In the small kitchen of Hitsugaya's quarters, Hyourinmaru simply listened to his master's thoughts, offering nothing unless prompted or deeming something necessary to add—which usually wasn't much.
It didn't seem like it would be a hard mission. The only thing that really was going to make it interesting was the fact that it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Surely there was a trail their target had left behind?
And now that they thought about it, why women like Rukia Kuchiki? What did she have that other women didn't?
Could it have to do with what Hitsugaya felt when their hands touched, or their eyes met?
Whatever deliberation would've started after that was broken by the distinct sound of bubbling. Taking out two cups, Toushiro nearly poured enough for two before he hesitated and the captain could've sworn he heard Hyourinmaru suppress a snicker.
"I usually prefer just milk."
Sighing, he took out the gallon he had bought that morning and poured some into the second cup before setting both onto a tray. Surely it wouldn't take Matsumoto long to notice that it had been opened (aside from her one chilled sake drink disguised as a human "tea" glass bottle—he wasn't dumb).
When he returned to the office (after emptying out the glass bottle and putting in real tea), it was to find Rukia sitting as he had left her, one hand clenched in her lap and a distant look to her features.
Once again, her other hand went to her neck.
Setting their respective drinks on the desk the young man sat down nonchalantly, promptly snapping the black haired shinigami out of her reverie. Then violet eyes fell to what he had brought and the contents of the cup set before her with surprise.
"This is. . ." Shuffling some things around his work area to organize it a bit (though it was already pristine in Rukia's opinion), he raised an eyebrow at her.
"Isn't that what you like?"
The petite woman's cheeks colored instantly as she looked down at her lap, muttering, "I didn't think it was something worthy of your attention."
"You've taken over tasks not required of you, that aren't even associated in any way to your division. Just consider us even." Nodding, her smile was soft as her eyes fell on him.
"Thank you, sir."
A momentary hesitation.
"Don't worry about it." He finally answered, avoiding her eyes.
It took them three hours after they had settled into the rhythm of their work—one doing research (the maps of Karakura, possible entities it could be, how their lodgings would be taken care of) and two more in which Rukia helped him finish his own load of labor. It didn't seem like such a long time to either of them until his companion made a surprised little noise and Toushiro followed her eyes to one of the windows, where sure enough the moon was beginning to come out.
"You can leave if you'd like. I won't hold you here against your will." Taking a sip of her milk carefully, Rukia turned to him with a shake of her head as she licked her lips.
"It just surprised me is all, sir, I meant nothing by it. My apologies." A light blush dusted pale cheeks as she dove back into her own fraction of the paperwork.
How long had she been hunched over that desk? It still surprised him to see how diligently she worked—a huge change from having Matsumoto sitting there, whining and constantly finding excuses to leave. Still, he felt a pang of annoyance at the fact that Rukia actually made him conscious of the hours he was in the office. With his vice captain, it was like he could never find enough time to actually be there.
"Come on."
Before what he was asking could fully register in Rukia's mind (or be understood in Hitsugaya's own), he had hastily organized his desk (a pet peeve, Rukia assumed) and come to Matsumoto's where she was working, tugging lightly on the paper in her grasp and setting it aside before putting his palm out and looking at the brush in her hand.
Lilac eyes flicked from the open palm to aquamarine orbs.
"Are you going to come, or you going to stare at me for the rest of the time?" The captain snapped halfheartedly.
Hesitantly, the brush was placed in his hand.
"Yessir." Was the mumbled reply.
This didn't happen often, and things were already strange enough as they were, so the little break seemed reasonable. . . right?
Hyourinmaru didn't bother to offer his opinion.
Failing miserably to hide both the surprise at the prodigy's actions and her embarrassed blush, Rukia pushed the chair back and nervously followed after him out of the office building, outlining the symbol of the tenth division on the back of his captain's robes with her distracted gaze as she mentally berated herself on her actions.
Still . . . from here, his back looked broad—something she would've never expected from someone only a bit taller than her. But he was a captain, a prodigy, a man who was fated to rise above the rest—a constant reminder of her own shortcomings.
We're different, Rukia. A comparison of this sort would be very unreasonable.
To who though?
But there was no reply.
They walked like that for a bit, contemplative eyes trained on the man before her in the cool night. The moon illuminated their path brightly—the clean streets and scattered trees, melding with the soft yellow beams that fell out in rays from drawn blinds . She didn't necessarily understand what was going through his mind, but it was obvious that the heavy responsibilities were taking their toll on him. Even with her other musings, tt made her happy to know that at the very least, her presence was taking a little of that load off of him.
"You're very quiet for someone who won't stop staring."
Did he have eyes in the back of his head?
The young Kuchiki's face was burning again as she buried it deep between her fingers (he wasn't looking at her after all), but she wasn't about to let him know that as she suppressed the urge to groan in humiliation.
"S-sorry." Well, she tried not to admit it.
"You want to ask me something?" The way she openly gawked at him made a bizarre sensation run down his spine. It was like she was trying to pick at his insides— sort of made him wonder if this curiosity was what constantly kept her in dangerous missions to begin with.
He wouldn't doubt it.
At the same time, he couldn't say it really bothered him past the fact that he had no idea what she was thinking. Somehow, that in itself seemed kind of dangerous.
Well, that and the way she chose to trail behind him as opposed to at his side also annoyed him. It seemed that in everything she did, it never failed to remind both herself and whatever superior was in her presence of her inferiority.
Even now as she blushed madly—something he could tell without even looking at her.
At the same time, Rukia was racking her brain for something to fill the sudden silence with and falling miserably short. It would be way too awkward to say what she was thinking (and rather upsetting). So instead of continually making a fool of herself by staying silent, she blurted out the first thing her mind conjured up as a question.
"How many times have you been to the real world?"
Not that it was necessarily the most random thing, but somehow the obliqueness of the question threw him off. Toushiro didn't know what exactly he was expecting, but that hadn't been it.
For a moment the white haired youth stopped in his tracks with his companion mirroring his movements. Turning to her, he noted how the moon sent shadows across her pale skin and intensified the violet of her curious eyes as she slightly tilted her head.
It was. . . . almost magnetic.
Shrugging, aquamarine eyes tore away from her, calloused hands hooking behind Toushiro's tense neck and fingers lacing together in a makeshift cradle for his tired head. It put pressure at the nape of his neck, elbows raised and blocking Rukia from his view.
"Not many—possibly even only a handful of times."
They continued walking.
"You practically live there, don't you?" It wasn't mean to be insulting or anything, but judging by her silence she had taken it that way. Glancing at her from the corner of his eye, he turned back to stare ahead.
"Any customs I should know about?" By then he had become accustomed to her slower pace, trying to revive the conversation after feeling her slight discomfort at his comment. Tanned arms lowered back to his sides and the captain was back to scrutinizing the young Kuchiki noble subtly. "I've heard that lately humans tend to take on holidays almost as fast as changes of clothing."
Unable to help it, his companion grinned. "You could say that. There's so many holidays now that it's getting hard to keep up with them all." A raised brow was her reply, silently urging her to continue.
"Well, there's Christmas, Halloween, White Day, Valentine's Day. . . something called Easter. . . and those are just the ones I can remember. Most of them are ones brought over from other countries—on top of the more traditional ones we have here."
"I guess I never hit the holiday season when I went over. Lucky, considering Matsumoto's party streak."
"Yeah, I think you would be in over your head if she decided to drag you to every celebration on the other side." A shy grin.
"Let's hope it never leads to that." He muttered.
The breeze picked up then, and he watched as Rukia offered a subtle smile, clutching a stray bang and hooking it behind her ear. It was then that he remembered the habit he had noted and Toushiro couldn't help but let the question resurface in his head. Even as they continued on the quiet paths of Sereitei, the thought nagged more and more at the young genius' inquisitive mind (now that he had re-acknowledged it) pretty much to the point where he threw caution to the wind and let the words leave his mouth.
Because that kind of thing wasn't what someone got from an innate feeling.
"My turn to ask a question." Surprise flickered through lilac eyes as she hesitated in a step, watching as her superior's face lifted slowly to stare at the sky in thought.
It almost seemed rude to look her in the eye when asking something so personal. As an afterthought, he added, "you don't have to answer."
A couple more steps and they both glanced over as a messenger passed them, offering a polite nod before continuing on his way.
Somehow the silence of the man walking beside her made Rukia nervous.
"Twice I've caught you with a hand at your neck. . . bad habit of yours?"
It was offhand, cool and something that made him wonder if he had crossed a line.
But why?
Surely having broken the contemplative quiet that had settled between them was something to apologize for. Still, the nagging in his head was far stronger than his characteristic coldness for some reason—something he couldn't ignore in the small woman at his side now.
Maybe his curiosity would be his downfall.
Black brows furrowed in confusion, a hand once again reaching for a slender neck (this time consciously) as if it would help her remember. Then something flashed there in her gaze, and her eyes turned melancholy, a forced smile on her features as she offered a polite little laugh that sounded a little too practiced and hollow to his ears.
"Sometimes. . . I guess when I get nervous I still feel the collar around my neck." It only took him a moment before he realized what exactly she was talking about and why her gaze was averted. "Silly, huh?"
He didn't have an answer for that.
After a few minutes of awkward silence (in which he began steering them back) he figured he should be fair and so grimacing, crossed his arms. His words were low, timidity and hesitation lacing them. "Your turn."
It took Rukia a moment to process what he had just said, in which she blinked skeptically at him. Finally, she raised a brow.
"May I ask. . . why we're playing twenty questions?"
"You do realize that counts as your-"
"No! No, no! Wait!" The small smirk aimed at her only added to her frustration as she tried to conjure up some form of a question.
"Uhhhmmm . . ."
"Getting old, Kuchiki."
"Sir,no offense but that excuse doesn't count on this side."
"Don't get smart with me or I'll take your question back."
"S-sorry, sorry! Ok uhhhhh. . . . where did you grow up?"
"Junrinan."
Silence for a moment, and then, "Oh."
In the distance she recognized the path leading back to the tenth division.
"Your question, sir."
Why did it sound weird when she called him sir? Suddenly pulling rank didn't seem so fun anymore.
"Alright. . . ." A sigh, their steps filling in the silence as they continued and Toushiro tried to think of something, unconsciously running a hand through his hair. His quick mind readily tried to offer something as soon as he began flashing through all their brief meetings: feelings, thoughts, and memories running at the speed of light.
Then it hit him.
"You signed your last note without your rank. What rank are you in your division?"
Another question that had popped up once while rereading the neat little note pinned to his uniform.
"Oh. . . ." The attention to such a minute detail surprised Rukia.
Glancing sideways at her, Hitsugaya noted the strange almost ashamed expression on her face.
"Ukitake-taichou won't let me take the exam for a seated officer. He says that there are some things that I'm not ready to handle yet."
Really?
She was the reason they had a damn good trump card (Ichigo), always was in the know about every major situation (if she wasn't part of its indirect causing), was a noble, could hold her own against an Espada, had a shikai with three different attacks (prior knowledge from the Zanpaktou rebellion and side information on how her sword had been responsible for the Kuchiki mansion's total trashing), and she wasn't enough for a position?
What the hell was wrong with Ukitake?
He contemplated this as they neared the barracks, opening the door and allowing her entry first before following, eyes lingering on the small figure that directed her way towards Matsumoto's chair to continue where she had left off.
What she had said left him curious.
Even as they worked, each poring over different files, separate tasks, a plethora of winding thoughts, Hitsugaya couldn't help the constant derailing of his mind between papers, between crunching numbers, or even sometimes between separate breaths. Eyes that were once so focused constantly fell back to the only other stirring soul, trying to understand and read between the small delicate curve of moving lips as she muttered, the flicker of emotions in a veiled gaze, inquisitive as a small hand came up to flick a stray bang frustratingly away.
Was it really two hours that he stayed like that?
When Rukia did finally leave, he couldn't help but feel a strange ambiance settling in the room at her departure.
Was it . . . emptier?
Of course, Matsumoto's snoring broke through his train of thought before he could put his finger on it, smirking as he realized he had almost forgotten to do his vice captain a little favor before his departure from the office.
It really didn't take long to go through all her office haunts.
Making sure he had been thorough, Toushiro locked his assistant inside the office before slinging the bag full of his findings over his shoulder and began thinking of places where he was sure people would be happy of his donation.
It wasn't until about an hour after Hitsugaya's departure when Sereitei heard the wail of frustration as Rangiku Matsumoto realized her money and every secret stash of sake she had carefully smuggled into the office was gone. Not to mention that unless she could break through the doors or windows (which would not help her case tomorrow as it was), she would be having a nice little office sleepover until the secretaries showed up early tomorrow morning to open the main building.
Toushiro slept soundly that night, knowing that at least for this once, his vice captain would be there on time for work the next morning.
