A/N: This chapter was hard to fill in. X_X Even though I had ten pages initially, adding scenes was rather difficult. Even so, thanks for sticking here with me. :P As for all of you with questions on the plot line, I'm very happy you're interested but I don't offer spoilers, sorry. Lol. Oh! And for the love triangle. . . there are a few runners up but I'm not one hundred percent sure yet. . . though I am about eighty or so percent. . . ish. . . maybe. Hahaha.
Also, I'm doing these in "arc" style. The first arc was titled after well, the main title XD and the second arc began last chapter. . . why I'm doing this, I don't know.
Change of pace maybe?
Disclaimer: Do not own, do not sue. :P
Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix
(My heart opens itself to your voice)
Then She Attacks Me Like A Leo II
Few things ever bothered Byakuya, 28th head of the Kuchiki clan and captain of the sixth division of Sereitei.
And these men were one of them.
Two elders, both stern faced and unwavering as they sat as regally as he, hands with skin wrinkled by age properly placed on the table before them. The silk that clothed their fragile bodies was of the best kind, simple in color but more expensive than Sereitei's overall price would ever be in the next one hundred years. Time-blessed wisdom radiated from their every tired breath almost as if the minutes themselves weighted them down in the silence of the private chamber.
They didn't speak—barely moved.
And no matter how much Byakuya would wish it to stay so, fate always had other plans.
"You understand why we are here, Byakuya."
Only two people were allowed to speak to him in such a manner—three, if his pride ever realized her worth to him.
The quiet draped over them like a heavy cloud.
"I deem it unnecessary." Both advisors turned to him, then glancing at each other before the second man, with the aura and dress of a Buddhist monk, turned to face him with a heavy sigh.
"Was the Winter War not enough of a reminder of what you would be losing?"
His life, his pride, everything he had worked so hard for?
An image of Rukia holding a sword to her own neck, and then slate gray eyes turned their attention back to the two other souls inhabiting the room.
No . . .of course not.
"My moment will not come any time soon, you can rest assured on this matter."
"You are a foolish man, Kuchiki Byakuya."
No one missed the fourth presence that suddenly moved among the shadows—the way the young man sat silently in the corner, or how his armor glinted in the candlelight as he stared at them from behind the angry red mask.
Foolish zanpakou.
He would have to deal with his sword later.
"You know very well that if a second in line is not announced, you could be putting the clan in possible danger of inner turmoil. You have put the matter off long enough." The first one said.
"As your guides, we allowed you time to grieve your loss. You must stand now and face the consequences of your choices." The second interjected seamlessly.
Somewhere inside, Byakuya felt the pang of losing Hisana, the helplessness that had wrapped itself around him like a noose when she finally revealed that she was dying--the sad, almost desperate attempts he had taken to try and save her.
And his choice to continue by her side knowing she would never bear his child.
Even so, only the slightest narrowing of the captain's eyes was their response.
"You must produce an heir, Byakuya."
Fists tightened, Senbonzakura tried his hardest not to give away the fury he felt being channeled from his master.
"I have no such plans to do so." Was the simple and level reply. No anger, no hitch in voice or movement to indicate the rage that boiled deep inside his soul.
This game was nothing new anymore.
"If you do not, then actions will be taken, do you understand?"
He was not stupid—in their own question they had laid a trap for him, baited him with another query that would naturally come from their statement. Even so, knowing this he could do nothing more but follow.
Lifting his proud head, the head of the Kuchiki clan calmly asked, "and what would those be?"
Both men before him shifted, sharing a slight twitch of the lips that would've been a smirk—or maybe it was a trick of the light as they turned to him. Their eyes held contemplations, rules, ancient laws that he had broken twice already for his late wife.
Would he have to break another?
Surely the consequences would not lead him astray again, would they? Byakuya had paid his dues, restored the honor of the clan when one of their own had gone astray, and even brought up Rukia as a proud member under his wing—it had to count for something, surely. . . no?
"If the head of the clan refuses to name a second in line, then the next of kin would be initiated into the process."
He could already see a dilemma in their demands.
"Rukia would not be able to take the initiation." It was subtle, but the relief was there.
Females weren't allowed to initiate as head of the clan.
The shifting of tired bones and a deep almost chiding sigh. When the slants that were the old men's eyes finally opened again, their attention stood unwavering (and unfazed) on Byakuya's own. This in turn, bothered him deeply and tipped him off.
"A problem easily fixed of course, as soon as you choose a proper suitor. The man you select, Byakuya, would carry on our name."
He had realized it a moment too late—how they had cornered him.
"You must choose, Byakuya—the memory of your late wife . . . or Rukia's future."
Toushiro Hitsugaya would be lying if he said that he didn't take his sweet time getting to the office that morning.
When he did arrive, it was to find a note from Rukia left to the secretaries and an obviously absent Matsumoto, who would probably be gone for today until she decided she could forgive him for his stunt.
He gave her two hours at most.
Taking the small piece of paper left along with his other morning things, he sat down in his chair while staring at the writing.
Hitsugaya-taichou,
I've spoken to Kurosaki Ichigo and Inoue Orihime about our lodgings already, to which they have both agreed. I will be staying with Kurosaki and you in Inoue's apartment. I figure warning you about Orihime's cooking would come too late, as you would already have experienced it yourself. . .instead, I took the liberty to tell her not to bother cooking for you, that our mission would carry on deep into the night. If you have any other problems you would like to address before we leave, do not hesitate to find me—I will be taking care of a few things back in the thirteenth division barracks.
-Rukia Kuchiki of the 13th Division
Her writing was neat and elegant—no doubt a trait instilled in her by Byakuya.
Setting it down, he sighed in relief at the thought of not having to eat anything. . . unidentifiable. It hadn't really hit him that Orihime would provide his lodgings (and thus the food) until Rukia had brought it up.
She was a step ahead of him.
Things passed on quickly from there on for the rest of the morning, Matsumoto making an entrance like a whirlwind of energy as she threw the doors open three hours later and offered a happy (and obviously drunk) hello to her favorite captain.
It took him half an hour of attempts to try and get it through her head that he was leaving, and another hour just to get her to sit down long enough for her not to knock something over—after which she promptly fell asleep on the couch. At the same time, he could safely say his patience had been shot for the day, and so he instead called in (more like yelled at) one of their two main secretaries to deal with his vice captain and to keep order in his absence or by God he would make sure everyone in that building would pay with more than just their paychecks.
After having made sure to thoroughly instill enough fear into the poor young woman to last her well into the time he would return, Toushiro settled back into doing what paperwork he could before his departure that night.
By the time he looked up again, the usual lunch rush had begun and with it brought a man with similar white hair knocking at his door.
"Come in, Ukitake." Setting the brush down, Hitsugaya nodded a hello to his fellow captain. The smiling man enthusiastically settled on the couch opposite from the strawberry blonde unceremoniously sprawled before him, but not before depositing a handful of treats onto the corner of the prodigy's desk.
"How many times do I have to tell you I don't like sweets?" Not even a mere minute in the door and already he was making the captain of the tenth division flustered. A vein was already threatening to start popping from his forehead.
Was this a new record?
"I figured since Kyoraku-san wasn't around to drink, I'd come to say hi to my favorite little Shiro-chan."
"It's Hitsugaya-taichou, Ukitake." Maybe it was because of how long Toushiro had been glaring evilly at the older man, but it finally hit him that Joushiro Ukitake was smiling just a little wider than usual and he seemed to be having trouble keeping himself balanced enough to be sitting straight.
A frustrated sigh.
"You're drunk, aren't you?"
Since when the hell had tenth division become the sober patrol?!
Really, a yes (or an obviously fibbed no) would've sufficed. Of course, things never quite panned out the way the rigid captain of aforementioned division liked, and so he watched with annoyance (and a speck of amusement—just a tiny bit) as Joushiro giggled like a schoolgirl and swatted a hand at him in a conspiratory manner.
"When I stopped by Kyorako-san's division, Nanao-san was there-"
Ohoooo, was this man ever wasted.
Another giggle and in the loudest whisper Toushiro had ever heard , the captain of the thirteenth division continued, "-And she said he had a few bottles left in the office that she was about to get rid of."
Nothing new of course. Everyone knew of the poor lieutenant of eighth's division and how it was a constant I-Spy game for all the expensive bottles her captain tried to sneak into the office building.
Well, it was a good thing at least that Matsumoto was under his watch and not Kyouraku's or nothing would ever get done in the eighth division. Still, it would be nice to get someone who actually did their work once in a while. . . the office work anyways—Matsumoto was more than capable on the field.
Another sigh, this time just tired.
"Lemme guess—she gave them to you."
"How did you know?!" Another hysterical fit of giggles. "Rukia-san has been taking care of everything so I didn't have anything to do and-"
"Rukia?" Immediately Toushiro's attention was caught, his guest suddenly turning surprisingly serious.
"Yes." A heavy nod that the thirteenth divison captain had a hard time coming back up from. "She's been preparing things so that everything will go smoothly in her absence."
"But she's not even a seated officer, so why would there be anything different while she was gone?"
Brown eyes turned to him then, a lopsided frown his reply, almost as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Then again, there also seemed to be open resentment there as well.
"That, my dear Shiro-chan, is thanks to no other than Kuchiki Byakuya." Ignoring the pet name momentarily, Toushiro instead followed Ukitake's movements with sharp eyes as the older man flopped down onto the couch, eyes closed. "He specifically asked—no demanded of me--when I took her in."
Why. . . ?
Shooting back up again into a sitting position with more than just a wobble, Jyoushiro continued without urging or pause between statements. "Of course at first I tried to talk to him, you know, speak reason and make him see that it was foolish to waste such a fountain of talent but. . ."
The finger that had been waving around in a lecturing manner suddenly slowed, a weary and sad sigh escaping the drunken man's parched lips.
". . . . but?" The white haired youth prodded, suddenly interested.
"Wouldn't budge." There was a rustling of robes and then he was lying on the couch again, an arm over his eyes. "Of course. . . I couldn't say no after . . . told. . . .Hisana. . ."
"Hisana?"
Too late, the young man realized with a few hesitant steps to the other captain's side. His breathing was even, a slight smile on his lips and the arm that had been over his eyes slumped awkwardly above his head in the small space the couch allowed.
Allowing himself a small scowl of annoyance, Toushiro grumbled all the way to the secretaries' station, making sure to send one of them as messenger to the thirteenth division in notification of their captain's current whereabouts. The whole way there he marveled at how barely discernible the slur had been in Ukitake's speech.
He'd probably had lots of practice over the years, Toushiro thought sourly.
Shaking the thought away with a weary hand running through the thick white tuft of his hair, the captain hesitated at the doorway with eyes drawn to the two sleeping figures in the room.
Hisana. . . who was Hisana?
White brows knit in thought, the shifting of socked feet on the wooden floor was barely perceivable to his ears. Somehow, Byakuya doing something to hinder Rukia in her progress seemed very strange to him (and quite illegal), though that was the least of his worries. Still. . . hiding Rukia behind a frail man was nothing short of genius! Who would ever question a gentle man like Jyoushiro? Surely old man Yamamoto didn't even have Rukia on his radar as anyone worth keeping tabs on anyways.
It was a little too perfect for it not to get the better of Toushiro's insatiable curiosity.
Of course, it wasn't like he cared any for her affairs personally, it just struck him as . . . odd. There was some piece of the puzzle he was missing and it was going to bug the living daylights out of him until he figured it out. But for now, all he could do was pinch the bridge of his nose, settle back into his chair, and pray that he could put at least a nice little dent in the stacks at the corner of his desk.
Which of course, Toushiro Hitsugaya knew (beyond a doubt) would not happen.
The clock on the shelf behind the couch the frail older man was sprawled on mocked him—apparently Ukitake's visit had taken up only a mere ten minutes at most, if that.
Nonetheless, time practically (and amazingly) flew with him stuck behind stacks of work he knew would only be doubled (if not tripled) by the time he returned, and so he called it quits when Rukia knocked on the door. By then Jyoushiro had long been dragged away by his two third seat officers, bickering all the way there (and surely all the way back).
"Hitsugaya-taichou," Rukia said, bowing, "Are you ready to leave?"
A deep sigh, wondering what time it was exactly and knowing no good would come out of asking unless he wanted to really feel the hours he had been sitting behind his desk—without eating.
Ignoring the emptiness he felt in his belly, he nodded and began to arrange everything on his desk so the secretaries wouldn't have trouble finding whatever papers were needed—though they would probably be willing to tear up the office and face his wrath for the damn reports after the little talk he had with one of them that morning. Nonetheless, the last thing he needed while away was a phone call demanding to know where certain things had been placed (even if he did have a photographic memory).
"Let's go."
Things happened in a blur after that, the walk to the gateway uneventful and a lot calmer than he thought it would be—then again, travel with Matsumoto usually entailed her taking forever to get ready, forgetting things, leaving necessary paperwork undone, and who knows how many other minute problems only she could come up with last second. The small Kuchiki girl was obviously prepared, a small bag like his own slung over one shoulder.
The trip was anything but complicated, both shinigami landing softly on the grass in the human world five minutes after their departure with Rukia already trying to get their bearings. Not too far off she could already see Orihime waving madly as she ran towards them, Ichigo not too far behind.
Greetings were exchanged, and soon enough they were on their way to Orihime's house for a semi-meeting and to see what information had been gathered thus far through Ichigo. As the door was opened though, it was obvious that the redheaded teenager had put quite an effort into hospitality for her guests (and totally disregarded what Rukia said over the phone), the table set for four and many strange dishes littering the surface--some even still bubbling.
She didn't note the collective cringe or how they all hesitated to step inside.
"I figured you would be hungry, and I've been hoping to try out some new recipes I came up with so I just mushed both ideas together-" The way she brought both hands to clasp loudly didn't help the appeal of the food—somehow Rukia guessed that it was also how she handled the ingredients-" and tada!"
A grand gesture towards the table, and Rukia offered a weak thank you before bravely going over and settling into one of the chairs. A swallow, and then with the fakest smile Toushiro had ever seen, she turned to them menacingly.
"Hitsugaya-taichou, Ichigo, aren't you guys hungry?" Running a hand through his hair, Ichigo took a step back towards the door. The brown of his irises was on anything but the petite woman on the other side of the room who was currently throwing daggers at him with her warning glare.
"Sorry Orihime, my sister already has dinner waiting at home and she'll feel bad if I don't show up." Visibly crestfallen, Orihime shrugged but nonetheless put on her best smile.
"Well, it can't be helped." Behind her, Ichigo caught the mirroring glare from both shinigami.
"Traitor." Rukia mouthed.
"We'll just have to eat it all without you." Trying not to laugh at the reactions behind the redhead, Ichigo called out his goodbye and threw one final victorious smirk at Rukia before casually strolling out the door.
"I guess planning will have to wait 'til later then." Hitsugaya muttered darkly, frowning. Turning to his companion, he watched with mild interest as her brow furrowed and her face took on an intense look of concentration.
By now Rukia had already honed in on the more "safe" looking dishes and had begun grabbing a small chunk of each onto her plate so that it looked full. At the same time, if she really REALLY didn't like one, she could always eat a sample of another that she could hopefully choke down at the least.
This should be an art all its own.
"Wow, Kuchiki-san you must be really hungry!" The fork was in her mouth still as she nodded, wincing at the particular spiciness of the morsel—this she could probably eat, seeing as the flavor was masked by the spice (was this some sort of an attempt at curry?). Her eyes followed Toushiro as he pensively sat down beside her, meeting her gaze as she fearlessly popped another bite in her mouth.
Their hostess smiled radiantly, fussing over details and going back and forth between the kitchen and the table to make sure they were well tended to.
Rukia lost count of how many drink choices Orihime had brought after the initial five.
In her absence, Toushiro eyed a bowl of pink looking rice in front of him before lifting his fork to point at it.
"What's in-"
"For your own safety, don't ask." Rukia hissed in a panicked whisper before Orihime came out of the kitchen again and the petite shinigami turned back to her own plate. The fork hovered—left, right—left. . . .the right lump in the corner. . . were those raisins?
"Orihime, this one is really good!" Better be safe--she stuck with the one from before (curry?). "I like how spicy it is."
Passing the bowl over subtly to Toushiro as she chatted with the other young woman, she could've sworn she caught a look of gratitude on the captain's face before he plopped a generous portion on his plate.
If she ate it and hadn't died, surely they would be ok. . .
Of course, if he had listened to her written advice, he wouldn't be going through this scenario to begin with—obviously he'd never admit to that though.
Dinner continued like that, Rukia methodically testing and passing the edible ones to the captain beside her, who picked and chose the ones he felt would not kill him by the morning—he didn't want to be dragged back in a casket over something so ludicrous (a saying of course, because everyone present knew there would be no body, duh).
Still, the report would be rather absurd.
By the end they had all eaten and no one had suffered spontaneous combustion—much to Hitsugaya's relief. He couldn't really say he had ever had much of Orihime's cooking (usually he snuck off before lunch or dinner) and knowing that Rukia was still alive was nothing less of a miracle to him.
Afterwards, the two young women took to talking about some show or other, comics, and how many episodes Rukia had missed in her absence. Friendly, loose terms to which Toushiro suddenly felt nothing short of an intruder and thus remained silent. He watched with impassive features, the fork in his hand twirled back and forth between fingers.
In a way, it gave him a chance to think about what Ukitake had (drunkenly) said earlier that day to him.
Teal eyes lingered subtly on the petite woman beside him, watching her movements and wondering suddenly if she knew.
Well, a moment in Byakuya's shoes: proud, stubborn, a bit snobby (very, very, very. . .he could go on forever on this), and maybe, just maybe a bit caring. Of course though, he would never ever admit it and surely even less to the person in question.
Thus, Kuchiki Rukia would never know.
He followed her enthusiastic movements as she explained the last scene from a manga she had just begun reading, Orihime enraptured by whatever story Rukia was telling—surely something cheesy and romantic judging by the stars in her gray eyes.
And this Hisana person. . . who were they?
That he could recall (damn well he might add), there was no one in Sereitei of notability of that name.
Someone of the Kuchiki clan, perhaps?
But why put such a major obstacle on someone who was supposed to bear the clan's name?
"-chou?" Blinking, a confused gaze flitted momentarily between the two women staring openly at him.
Violet eyes met teal then, and Toushiro felt his cheeks begin to flush in embarrassment—was he caught staring?
"Are you alright, Hitsugaya-taichou?"
Waving a hand at them dismissively, Toushiro instead tried to ignore the open stares as he answered, "I'm fine."
Really, he should've kept his eyes down, but when he sensed the atmosphere relaxing again, he found his gaze involuntarily making its way back to Rukia who met his eyes with a subtle glance.
You're lying. Was what her eyes told him.
He couldn't answer that as he took his glass of water and took a nice hard swallow of it, Orihime none the wiser.
No I'm not. Was what his body language probably told her.
There was hesitance, the subtle shifting of a petite body, and then Rukia returned her attention fully to the other young woman, seamlessly falling back to where she had left off before and animatedly responding, offering Toushiro no room to argue what she had wordlessly accused him off—and had totally been right about.
The conversation soon slowed down and almost immediately they all began to really feel the effects of the food, Orihime promptly shooing them into the living room to watch television. She ignored Rukia's offered help as she put the control in the smaller woman's hand and threatened her with dessert if she continued, effectively scaring Rukia into sitting on the couch with Toushiro.
So for half an awkard hour, the petite shinigami flipped nervously through channels.
Yes she had caught him lying about not feeling ok, but that didn't change that he was her superior. If he chose not to indulge her in the goings on in his mind, that was all up to him—she had to respect that choice and be ready to respond if it required her to do so.
Then again, that wouldn't stop her from worrying about him.
"Do you like to read?" Instantly his eyes turned to her, eyeing her profile suspiciously. The gentle slopes of her soft features were aglow with the flicker of the television, eyes glued to the device in a sort of lazy trance.
"I don't usually have the time."
A yes, a no? She couldn't quite interpret his answer.
"Usually whatever genre people like in books also happens to be their taste in television programs." A tilt of her head, violet eyes curious at his thoughtful expression. "Anything you particularly like, Hitsugaya-taichou?"
A flicker in the deep of teal set eyes and she couldn't look away for a moment—the reaction intrigued her.
"Whatever you watch is fine. To be honest, I'm not even paying much attention to it." Carelessly he waved the comment away, eyes straying again to the television.
"Yes, sir."
More channel flipping, and soon Rukia had settled on an old episode of a crime solving show.
"I have school tomorrow, so I'm going to bed." Orihime called to her guests as she came to stand behind the couch after a half hour of tidying. Rukia was sitting properly on one end, Toushiro leaning his arm on the opposite rest and chin propped up on one hand. Both turned at the same time, the white haired young man bidding her goodnight over one shoulder as Rukia got up silently to hug the other girl.
"I guess it's time I start heading to Ichigo's then."
"You can stay here if you want. I mean, we'd have to share a bed, but it wouldn't be that bad-"
"Thanks Orihime, but my things are all back at Ichigo's anyways." A smile and then she turned to the captain. "Goodnight Hitsugaya-taichou."
"Hold on, I'll walk you over."
"It's alright sir, I'll be fine." Frowning, he got up anyways, turning off the tv before standing before her.
"We're using you for bait for whatever is out there and you just plan to walk by yourself at night, fully aware that a captain was sent to take care of it?" A spark suddenly lit in her violet eyes as she stood her ground.
"I know these areas better than anyone else in Sereitei, sir, I'm sure I'll be fine."
"In a gigai."
"Yes, in a gigai." Raising an eyebrow at her, Toushiro sighed and headed for the pack she had discarded earlier by the door and turned to her.
"Let's go, Kuchiki."
They had forgotten Orihime was still there until she sheepishly called a goodbye to Rukia, well aware of the growing tension in the room.
"Just leave a window partially open, please." Hitsugaya called over his shoulder. Orihime nodded, following and offering one last wave to Rukia before locking up for the night behind them.
They crossed streets and walked together side by side—never once hovering in each other's space. In the silence between them, Rukia lost whatever twinge of annoyance she had before and calmly gazed up at the moon. Following her stare, Hitsugaya sighed.
"Tomorrow we start after dark. Be sure to get as much sleep as you can before we head out."
Ever the hard worker, she thought with fondness.
"Yes, Hitsugaya-taichou."
Their footsteps were calm in the cool night, shadows falling around them as they strolled from streetlight to streetlight on the sidewalk. Rukia smiled at the sight of a man running his dog, nodding in acknowledgement to him before continuing on.
In the back of her mind she wondered what it looked like, seeing two young people on foot at such a late hour by themselves. Pushing the strange thought away, her eyes fell to the sidewalk as she forced herself to concentrate.
"I think we're going to end up searching the night clubs." For a moment he thought Rukia was talking to herself until she turned expectantly to him.
Instantly his face scrunched into one of distaste. Running a hand through his white hair, the captain tried to think of other places but failed to see logic in any of them as he frowned. Still, as futile as the attempt was, the notion made it out of his mouth before he could stop it.
"Isn't there any other place you can think of-"
"With all due respect sir," a nervous fidget of her small hands and the petite young woman looked up at him, "I can't think of anywhere else where a high population of women would be plausible enough for an attack."
Of course there was no way denying that. Nonetheless, trying to put off the fact had been a last ditch effort that had to be done so that there was a total exhaustion of excu-err, possibilities.
It wasn't until he heard the small exhale of breath at her jump that he realized they had reached Ichigo's window. Mimicking her movements, soon they were both crouching on the small ledge and she gave him a shy thank you at the offer of her backpack.
Violet eyes strayed to the window and slowly, pale features scrunched in a lopsided frown.
"He's already asleep." Rukia said, eyes coming back to him. "I'll just speak tomorrow with him and report back to you early in the morning, if you would like."
"That's fine." Nodding, she cautiously slid the window open and threw her bag in, the pack arcing well over the bed and landing with barely a sound by the closet.
Wait. . . why was she throwing it into a room with no second—
One foot was already past the window sill before she noted his questioning eyes and hesitation stopped her from going further. Neither hand moved from its perch on the frame of the window, and the awkward pose would have made him snicker except for the fact that her violet eyes were focused completely him.
"Something wrong, sir?"
"Kuchiki," He whispered, eyeing the room again to make sure he hadn't missed some rolled up futon or form of bedding— "where do you. . .?"
Blinking, thin black brows rose in naive bewilderment at his question. Her gaze went from the room, to him, and back again.
"Uhm. . . oh. Oh!" Realization dawned on her face.
"I sleep in the closet." She said, as if it were the most natural thing.
Eyeing the said lodging, Toushiro raised an eyebrow. He had seen how much Matsumoto carried and thus had, on a biased opinion, assumed she would have her own room by now in the house—and if not, probably that closet was filled to the brim.
Women were strange creatures.
"This is where I've been staying every time I come. It's where all my things are."
"Oh." Was the slow reply.
Smiling at him, she began to crawl in, not even bothering to hide the noise or make an effort not to wake Ichigo, who had his bed lined up with the window she was currently stealing in to. Nudging one of his feet away from the area where she was going to fall into with her foot, she ducked agilely in and proceeded to shove Ichigo away from her corner perch.
The way they treated each other spoke volumes of the trust between them, Hitsugaya observed. When she shoved him so she could sit by the ledge and talk to the captain, Ichigo had begun waking. Rukia announced her presence and told him to get back to sleep, sighing as she settled into her tiny corner. Teal eyes watched as Ichigo turned in the bed, not even bothering to acknowledge their presence any further.
Rolling her eyes, Rukia turned her attention back to Toushiro.
"You should be fine with Kurosaki in the room. He still isn't very good at turning down his reiatsu so it'll mute yours enough that it won't catch any attention here. We don't know what exactly our target is after, so play it safe." She nodded thoughtfully.
"I will call you as soon as I finish speaking to Ichigo tomorrow morning."
"No need. I'll come back tomorrow as soon as I wake up."
"Yes sir."
"Now go, get some sleep. You need to stay sharp." Another quiet nod, and he couldn't help catching the light scent of lavender about her as she did an awkward half-bow.
"Good night, Hitsugaya-taichou, and thank you for walking me over."
"Good night, Kuchiki, get some rest."
As he began walking back to Orihime's apartment, Toushiro felt her gaze slowly following him until she could not trail him from the window anymore. Looking back up at the moon, he closed his eyes and let the breeze run through his hair, sighing as his thoughts began to wander—would his office still be standing at the end of all this?
I like her. Hyourinmaru said out of nowhere, stopping Hitsugaya momentarily in his tracks. Tilting his head in thought, he shrugged.
"Yeah. I guess she's ok."
Well, for now anyways.
