A/N: Can you believe I started this with about six pages? It blew up to 26! How the hell did THAT happen? XD Lol. Thanks for all your kind reviews, and let it be known the yen issue has been fixed to a thousand, because I'm too lazy to round. XP And sorry for the long delay, exam weeks were brutal and my brain just shut down completely for a few days. ;;

Things are going to get a little. . . hot.

Fun facts: The song inspiration for this chapter is Scar Tissue by Red Hot Chili Peppers. One of the characters in here (OC) wasn't in the original version--care to take a guess?

Disclaimer: It's safer to say I belong to Bleach than the other way around.


Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix

(My heart opens itself to your voice)


Then She Attacks Me Like A Leo V


It had been fairly easy to wake the black haired shinigami from the nap she had taken in the crook of the captain's arm, of which he had lost feeling in quite a while ago actually--having to merely shrug the shoulder she had been leaning on and watching as lost violet orbs came back to focus slowly in the passing flashes of speeding cars and city lights. For a moment there was a look of total peace on her face before the soft of her gaze came up to the source of the warmth beside her and then Rukia shot up like a bullet, apologizing profusely with a face redder than Renji's hair.

Quite the rivalry in his opinion.

Raising a brow at her, he couldn't help the small tug on the corner of his lip as he forced his arm to stretch and tried to ignore the sudden tingling running through his arm like prickling needles, offering offhandedly, "well, well, nice of you to join us, Miss Kuchiki."

At this her face lowered to the fiddling fingers in her lap.

"I assume you slept well?" He drawled with a now evident smirk.

An unintelligible mumble was his reply.

"It's alright if you don't want to admit it. Surely the drool spot on my shoulder will prove it well enough."

The look of horror that crossed the young woman's face was priceless. Looking much like a gaping fish out of water, Rukia fumbled clumsily with both words and facial expressions as she tried to regain what little dignity she could, along with at least some control of her slack jaw.

"Uh-I. . ."

But then large violet eyes landed on his arm and noted with embarrassment that she had just been played for a fool—there was nothing on the cloth.

". . . did no such thing!" She spluttered indignantly.

"You're too easy to ruffle-"

"When you go out there, you're on a first name basis! A couple wouldn't call each other by last name, got it?"

Matsumoto's smug warning rang through his mind.

"-Rukia."

"I don't think you'd like to blow your cover over something so stupid, ne taichou?"

The name tasted strange in his mouth, he realized. It was almost too natural for it to be there, as if his mind had become accustomed to it long before his lips could even relish it.

The girl in question simply tilted her head in the silence, unfazed by the change of honorifics.

"You alright, Toushiro?" It was so tempting to yell at her to call him HItsugaya-taichou, but the white haired young man bit his lip hard to keep from spilling out the reflexive retort, instead nodding.

"You ready?" He asked as they came to a stop. Rukia offered a half grin and a steady nod.

Before she had awoken, Toushiro had gotten the driver's name and promised to call the cab agency asking specifically for him when he had the answer to their little wager (he would give the human maybe two or three weeks, he wasn't really sure—nor cared—of the date) and would make him pay up at least for a nice little handful of watermelon ice cream popsicles.

Swallowing, the captain of the tenth division paid their driver with one last knowing nod thrown at him from the rearview mirror before opening his door and coming around to the other side where Rukia was waiting patiently in the cab.

"Open the door for her, take her hand when she starts stepping out, help her if she needs it."

Instructions from his suddenly etiquette-pro lieutenant. Then again, it wasn't like the prodigy could honestly say he would know what he was doing without her help—and she understood that well enough to be shameless in all her erudite glory.

Opening Rukia's cab door, a small hand met his—soft, warm, and delicate in his own calloused grasp. But then it was retrieved just as fast as it had slipped into his, and her arm was curling around his own, the familiar presence encompassing all of his attention.

"Ready?" At her nod they began to walk.

The building they had scouted out in the morning seemed to have transformed in the night hours, modern soft lighting spread throughout and the atmosphere nothing like Toushiro expected.

There were three floors—the first was the lounge, second the dance floor, and third the VIP which was an open balcony overlooking the second floor. The second floor though, started as a mid-level between the two other floors and thus was partially visible through thick glass behind the main ticket area, revealing a man and plenty of equipment with many entwined cables all around him—the DJ.

Toushiro had of course already picked out the best vantage point both to where Rukia would be on the bar of the third floor (a few feet from his stakeout point—in fact a few barstools down where most of the girls seemed to have been hanging out according to the tapped security cameras), and of the dance floor to keep an eye for other potential victims or in case the target tried to lure Rukia through the crowds.

To be honest, he expected her to be a bundle of nerves by now. Much to his surprise, Rukia was anything but.

His partner seemed entranced by the lights, violet eyes curious and drinking in the atmosphere, the people, the uninhibited way in which the club seemed to transform from a regular building to another world altogether where everything was possible behind the giant glass separating the lobby they were entering to parts of the second floor. Paying their entrance (after having to whip out the fake ID's at the incredulous lady's stare) they made their way in easily weaving through throngs of little clustering groups of people conversing.

After catching a couple making out in the elevator, a flustered Rukia had to drag a peeved Toushiro away so that he wouldn't cause a scene dragging the two humans out to give them a sound thrashing at their unbelievably lewd behavior in such a public place. Even here undercover, Rukia almost had to laugh at her partner's inability to step out of the captain's mantle for a night.

"Humans have no shame." He seethed as they went up the stairs.

"Humans are human for a reason." Rukia retorted with a sigh as they made it to the third floor after a moment of silence, passing by another couple and trying her hardest to keep her firm grip on Toushiro's arm as he growled.

After a moment of consideration and noting that the captain's feathers were still ruffled, Rukia opted to stay for a bit with him until he at least calmed down enough to be able to focus on their objective. Professional he may be, but she was already well aware of his total distress at being in such a rowdy and unbridled place and knew beyond a doubt leaving him to his own devices wouldn't be her wisest decision. She didn't miss the narrowing of his gaze when she chose a bar stool right next to his, or how he instead pointedly ignored her when she ordered drinks for two over the thrum of the music from a floor below.

"I think the fruity drinks are better-less strong. If you want something stronger, ask for it on the rocks so at least the ice cubes will melt with the drink and water it down."

Made sense when he thought about it. It also explained why no one drank with Matsumoto very often—the woman took to drinking her liquor straight. Was Rukia a heavy drinker? How the hell would she know that otherwise?

"That's not something an amateur would know." He said offhandedly, eyeing the different bottles behind the several working bartenders.

"Ichigo, Chad, and Uryuu thought it would be a great idea to buy me liquor one time after I asked them why sake wasn't so popular here." She thanked the bartender who set down their drinks, sliding one over in offering to her companion. "Of course that was after they had gotten a bit wasted themselves thanks to Renji's insistence, so enough said about that. I also drank sake several times when I was little. Stole a jar thinking it was full of water and began chugging it with Renji once—next morning wasn't so much fun."

The accompanying wince and faraway gaze was all the reassurance he needed to know that the memory was still clear as day.

"Surely by the first gulp you would've known it wasn't water and would've stopped."

"And surely by that same first gulp we would know that we were beyond thirsty and there was no other man easier to steal from at the moment." Was the slow retort as she took a sip from a colorful concoction in the tall glass.

She got him there.

Her violet eyes didn't miss the contemplative hint to his gaze, or how he eyed his own drink with obvious mistrust. Still, it was enough to keep him distracted, and that was more than enough to bring him back to focus she figured triumphantly with a slight smile.

"Time to get started I guess." She said, delicate fingers lifting the cup by the brim and swirling the drink.

"You know what to do if you need me."

"Yessir." Was the grinning reply as she swung around to get down from the bar stool.

It should've been simple really—watch Kuchiki from the spot he had chosen, not interfere, and wait for her signal if she needed help bailing out from a potential companion (last thing they needed was for the target to come in and lose interest if she was taken).

Well, it wasn't.

She had already been hit on enough times that one hand wasn't enough to count and they had only been there a little less than an hour. Then again it might have to do with the fact that she was clearly attracting attention to herself, acting every bit lady coy and dancing circles around the half drunk people around her. Somehow she managed to get a game of poker started (which she of course had no clue how to play) and was being enthusiastically taught by the three men and the other two women-of which he was beginning to suspect were eyeing her as well--in a very loud rambunctious manner.

It wasn't until they started talking something about a different version called strip poker that he thought it wise to intervene, giving her a warning glare that was hard to miss from her chair before the black haired young woman could answer that she wanted to learn how to play this new game.

It had been lucky that Matsumoto had mentioned it once (after a visit to the real world for some days off), or else right now he would undoubtedly let her literally play herself naked and not even realize it until it was too late. Smart she may be, but he was beginning to wonder how the hell someone so naïve could've survived on her own.

At the very least the group Rukia was now firmly ensconced in seemed to have managed to settle on another round of regular poker.

"She's cute." Teal eyes flicked up to meet the grin of a young brunette, arms resting on the counter and brown eyes meeting his easily with raised brows. "You should ask her to dance."

The empty cup which he had left resting on the bar was replaced fluidly with a filled one, the young woman using a finger to push it across the counter in offering to him.

He shrugged.

"She's running circles around them and they don't even know it."

The bartender smiled. "Those are the best ones."

For what exactly, he didn't know but the implications in the slight smirk were enough for him to try and shut the thought out.

"Either way, you should go talk to her. At least before Jhonny gets a hold of—oh too late." He turned then, noticing Rukia talking to a tall blonde man, well dressed, a penetrating sapphire gaze drinking in the shinigami's form with obvious interest as he sat down beside her at the makeshift poker table. His features were well defined, something that only accented the subtle appeal to him and even seemed to momentarily gain Rukia's interest, intelligence glittering in his sharp eyes as he began to lean over her shoulder closely, probably teaching the young woman some pointers on the game as an excuse to brush his hands against her bare shoulders and small hands.

"Looks like you got competition no~ow." The bartender said in a singsong voice. "That's Jhonny, one of the owners of the bar. American born and with cash coming in with every breath he takes, he tends to go for more. . . eccentric girls."

"I doubt his prey is eccentric." Was the retort, but still there was a twinge of worry in his brow. When he thought about it, really it wasn't so hard a stretch of the mind. Rukia had been born under very straining circumstances and still somehow managed to survive—surely it led to some of her stranger quirks.

They both watched—one with amusement, the other with growing discomfort—as the others started throwing money in the middle of the table. When it came to Rukia, the newcomer raised a hand and dramatically pulled some money out of his white pinstriped coat pocket, throwing it in the middle to the various howls and pealing whistles of excitement Toushiro could hear even over the music.

"He can smell a different girl a mile away hon, give it up, you're not getting her back—at least not tonight." Brown eyes watched with subtle satisfaction as the point seemed to drive itself home in her companion as he took a more somber sip of his drink. "And to be honest, I doubt she'll want anyone else when she sees what he offers her."

She was demeaning him, he realized angrily.

"I graduated early from the university as a prodigy and I have many people under my command who would die for me. Money is the least of my concerns and I'm lined up for a position where I could possibly lead a nation—I'm sure I could at least make her second guess the idea." Was the low reply.

The Cheshire grin behind him was all he needed to know he had lost long before the game had even begun when the young bartender tilted her head at him coyly. "Then what are you waiting for?"

And before he could reply, she turned around with a laugh towards another arriving customer.

Damn it all to hell.

Hesitation stopped taught muscles from moving when he realized that maybe this was theirtarget. He surely seemed to have caught Rukia's genuine interest, at least enough for her to drop the act a little and let her gaze flick over to the captain with the most minute of nods before turning her attention back to the man before her.

So, with the rustle of expensive clothing, Toushiro Hitsugaya sat back down to his drink broodingly.

Needless to say, things went by achingly slow for the next hour, where Rukia had fluidly kept up the act and had even gotten the man's number after a couple rounds of several different card games and her new friend patiently taught her everything, even repeatedly putting in bet money for her. In that time Toushiro had given up his restless vigil (after nearly getting felt up by three women) and gone to the bathroom where he allowed his mod-soul to take over the gigai as he snuck past human eyes and went to lean on the wall beside Rukia, who was trying her hardest not to squirm under the captain's unabashed stare.

"Something wrong, Rukia?" The question was intimate, the music too loud for the man's voice to be heard normally and so he dipped his head to allow his lips to brush past her ears. As he came back to his regular relaxed posture, sapphire eyes looked into hers, blonde eyebrows going up and forehead taking on a worried wrinkle.

The others had slowly begun to trickle away, some to dance, others too drunk to really care about the game anymore, or even too unsteady to play the right cards. With the group dwindled down to the two of them, Rukia was trying her hardest to not show interest in Jhonny even though it was getting difficult with his proximity and the lady-like treatment he was giving her—something she wasn't used to.

There was a chill of discomfort that went down her spine as she smiled, shrugging nonchalantly. "Must've had a bit too much to drink." Was the nervous reply around a weak giggle.

It had already been three times Toushiro had seen her dump the proffered drinks subtly into a nearby plant. Really, if this guy was their target he hoped the damned "man" would just go ahead and try to pull a smart move so that he could have something to do. He was bored beyond belief, on top of knowing that there were some people who could see him eyeing him strangely. It was lucky it was at a club where half of the people were either drunk or high on something (stupid humans) and so his presence could be "easily explained." Plus the annoying beats these people called music were beginning to drill a headache into his skull.

Either way, the intimate method in which the American "Jhonny" was treating Rukia was not something to be taken lightly—it didn't take a genius to see Rukia was uncomfortable, but the captain couldn't raise a finger until she said something, especially now that they had a potential customer. Nonetheless, it still got under his skin for reasons he couldn't really begin to fathom.

"Do you mind getting me a bottle of water?" She asked, faking a sudden headache.

And of course, ever the gentleman, Jhonny agreed.

"He's human." Rukia hissed under her breath when Toushiro came to stand beside her to watch the man in question walk off.

"How do you know?" Was the reply from the shinigami beside her, arms crossing as aquamarine orbs narrowed. Violet eyes remained on the man at the bar, smiling prettily as he raised his hand to show that he had gotten what she asked for.

"I touched him a couple times—brush of the hand here and there—and I didn't feel any hitch or anything in his reiatsu. He's normal."

Immediately a sigh escaped the captain, thumb and forefinger coming to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"I don't think we're going to find the target here tonight then. This has been a complete waste of time." She nodded subtly.

"Playtime's over. Get rid of him." She gave no indication of having heard him, instead thanking Jhonny for the bottle of water with a dazzling smile and offering a shy grin of gratitude to him when he opened it for her.

"Um, I think I'm heading home now, I'm kind of tired."

"Aw, come on now, why don't you stay? Surely you didn't waste your money simply to sit through a couple card games! Don't you wanna dance?"

"Thank you, Jhonny but really I should go home. I think those drinks didn't quite hit me well."

It didn't escape Toushiro the dropping of honorifics between the two.

"Well, I have to take care of business here but if you change your mind or decide to come back some other night, let me know and I'll make sure they treat you like a queen." An accompanying wink and he fluidly took her hand, bowing down and planting a light kiss upon the soft exposed skin.

Behind them, Toushiro rolled his eyes.

"Thank you Jhonny, I'll let you know."

"Here—if they try to put up a fuss, give them this." Out of an inside pocket on his perfectly tailored suit jacket he pulled out a small card where he simply placed his signature next to the club's name with a pen. "They won't waste your time then."

"Oh, thank you so much!" Faked, but at least convincing enough to spread a grin on her blonde courter's handsome face.

"I'll be waiting for you." And before she could reply, he planted a chaste kiss on her cheek and ducked away. Rukia sighed after he left the two shingami standing there, frowning and unconsciously bringing fingertips to her cheek.

"Nice guy." Toushiro offered dryly, signaling his mod soul over.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to human formalities." She muttered grimly around the rosiness of her cheeks.

The white haired young man didn't offer any comment on the matter, noting the somewhat dazed look in her eyes.

Whether it was the drinks or the man that had gotten to her, he wasn't sure.

"Come on," he offered, jerking his head towards the restrooms, "lemme get back into the gigai and let's get out of here."

"Yes sir."


The ride back had been quiet and completely uneventful.

Truthfully it wasn't until Rangiku all but trampled Toushiro as she made a beeline from Orihime's bedroom to Rukia that there was actually a noise that caught the raven haired young woman's attention.

Rukia honestly didn't think such a high pitched sound could be made by anything remotely human until, wincing, she offered a tired hello to her companion. How she managed not to struggle in the larger woman's suffocating grasp was beyond everyone who slowly joined them from various activities.

Their hostess had been sleeping, obvious in the way she yawned heavily and rubbed at bleary eyes, one of the few people not to be asked to stake out a club since the others agreed unanimously it wasn't a situation they were sure someone as soft as her could handle. The Quincy was sitting at the table working on some sewing project, Ichigo across from him and appearing bored out of his skull as he leafed through a book that was most likely part of an assignment, the garments worn to blend in at the club still hugging his figure snugly. Chad looked up at them from his book, turning the page lazily from the couch.

Obviously, Toushiro surmised, none of them had hit anything of interest.

As a barrage of questions was aimed at his partner, the small shinigami offered half muttered answers, somehow making it to the couch (with a nodded hello at the tall youth across from her) before sighing heavily and allowing herself to collapse upon the flowery cradle that was the edge of the loveseat.

"Matsumoto, it's late, shouldn't you already be heading back to Soul Society?" The buxom blonde simply waved off her superior before turning back to Rukia.

"A couple girl stories wouldn't hurt before bedtime, ne Kuchiki-san?" A wink and then Matsumoto planted herself between the two people already on the couch, Chad raising an eyebrow but otherwise offering no comment as he scooted over to try making room for the newcomer.

"So tell me, how did it go?"

Before she could even open her mouth, Toushiro was in front of them with arms crossed and looming over them with all the authority his short frame could muster. "Nothing happened. He wasn't there." Baby blue eyes made their way from the captain to the smaller young woman on the couch beside her, who nodded in agreement with disappointment evident in her eyes.

"Did you get hit on?"

"More times than I could count from my seat." The white haired youth muttered as he went to lean on the wall, then thinking it over better and allowing himself to slide down to sit on the floor.

"You were keeping track?" Brows rising to her hairline, Rukia blinked in surprise as she angled herself to better face him when he spoke.

Aquamarine orbs were slowly revealed beneath a heavily lidded gaze as he allowed his head to fall back onto the wall. "Did you really think I was just sitting there the whole time drinking, waiting for your signal? You were hit on by more than enough guys, two possible lesbians, and the very rich bar owner."

"REALLY?" Before Rukia could realize what was going on, her well endowed companion pinned her down and looked at her with wide excited eyes that gleamed dangerously. "What did he look like? Was he older? Was he hot?"

"Well," Rukia said, wincing as she tried to squirm away from the iron grip on her shoulders, "he was tall, with blonde hair and blue eyes."

She swallowed then, a pink tinge going onto her cheeks as she smiled to herself slowly. "Yeah, he looked to be about late twenties, and I guess. . . he was good looking too."

A squeal and then she was encased again in a suffocating hug with a melody of thrilled giggles in her ear. "Look at you, you little cougar! You're more dangerous than I thought!"

"She was just playing the part, Matsumoto, nothing else." The two women looked up at Toushiro, Rangiku noting the strange flash that passed in her captain's eyes when they met with Rukia's. Slowly his head fell back to meet the wall and he took to pinching the bridge of his nose as he frowned tiredly with closed eyes. "She's not seeing that human again."

That wasn't a question or even a suggestion—it was a full out order.

A moment of silence in which Rukia swallowed audibly, unsure as to how to read the comment. "Of course not, sir."

From the table Ishida momentarily stopped sewing, catching Ichigo's eye and raising a thin brow. Orihime simply sipped at her cup of milk, gray eyes flicking between her guests in curiosity.

"You still have his number don't you?" Rangiku said, a smirk on her features as she waggled her eyebrows suggestively and poked the younger woman.

"Well-"

"Call him!"

"But Matsumoto-san-"

"You said he was hot, didn't you? Oh, come on what could one date-"

"Really Matsumoto-san," she said, now nervously glancing back at Toushiro and noting how he was becoming irritated, "I don't think that would be-"

"Aw, Kuchiki-san what could possibly be the harm in-"

"She told you no, Matsumoto." Was the dangerous growl from behind them.

Immediately violet and baby blue eyes slid from each other to the prodigy on the floor, speechless—Rukia more confused than anything and Rangiku completely and openly taken aback at her captain's unexpected reaction.

"What are you staring at?" Hitsugaya asked with a scowl after an uncomfortably long moment of silence. "Come on, it's late, get back to Soul Society--that paperwork isn't going to do itself tomorrow morning." Getting up from his perch, he tried to ignore the strange looks he knew were being aimed at him from various corners of the large room. "Rukia, get some rest, it's only the first night. I'm going to need you sharp again tomorrow."

"Yes sir." Was the soft, immediate reply from the couch. Awkwardly the young shinigami disentangled herself from Matsumoto's now lax grip and turned to Ichigo expectantly, who was now packing up at the table and too tired to even begin wondering what the hell had just happened.

Giving him one last narrow-eyed warning, Rangiku got slowly off of the couch too and helped Chad pack his various school materials before walking the others to the door, hugging Rukia goodbye and wishing the three young men accompanying her a good night. Behind her, Orihime waved and offered her own sleepy farewell before the door could be closed behind them.

"Well, it's late so get yourself to bed, Inoue-san. We'll be turning in soon too."

"Alright, if you need anything, just let me know, ok?"

"Thanks, but don't worry about us, we'll be fine. Sleep well." Rangiku offered cheerily before hugging the young woman and watching her head down the hall to her room silently. Beside her, the captain of the tenth division stood restlessly.

She allowed a moment of quiet for the emptiness of the room to sink in before, without turning to face him, she went to once again sit on the couch and turn on the television at a soft volume. The glow illuminated her sharp features in the darkness of the living room, eyes glowing an ethereal blue and face wise in all its sudden peace.

"You like her."

It wasn't a question, not even remotely as he came to sit beside her and frowned at the direct approach. On the battlefield it was always something he had admired and even thanked the gods for, but here, in settings much more diverse than that it wasn't quite as welcome.

"It's not like that." Was the answer after a momentary hesitation.

But was it?

If anything it irritated him to know that his lieutenant could pin something down (as ludicrous as the idea was) and be able to understand it before he could—especially when it involved himself. Yes, she had noticed his strange actions, but it all fell back to the same question from before:

Was it that he actually liked Rukia Kuchiki?

She was tolerable, at times way too naive, at others proud enough to get on his nerves, and every single time a person that demanded his respect both as a woman and simultaneously as a shinigami. She was intelligent—enough that it sparkled in her gaze whenever she spoke, and there was no shadow of a doubt in her voice whenever there was something on her mind.

She could stand on her own two feet.

"I think you're wrong, Hitsugaya-taichou." Really, he hadn't noticed when the television had taken to filling in the pregnant stillness between them until his lieutenant's voice broke through the monotony of the background noise, a single hand coming up to tuck a lock behind her ear as a pink tongue darted out to lick at her lips in thought.

"She's different from anyone I've ever met." Was the slow, careful reply as Rangiku gradually turned to face him. His brow was furrowed and teal orbs were staring deeply at the screen but obviously seeing way beyond the trappings of the television, the light dancing and making the flecks of light green flicker in his gaze. "I respect her for that."

He didn't notice the soft smile, didn't even catch the way her eyes glittered with knowing as she turned to the control in her lap with mirth she tried to hide.

"I see."

It was left at that until he finally decided to turn in, muttering a goodnight to her (after a halfhearted order to go home) and left her sitting there to her own thoughts for a few moments as she turned off the television.

It was more than "like," she concluded with a rising grin as she went to raid the fridge before her departure. It was more than simple respect for someone, more than just the tiny bits of effort he put forth that Toushiro Hitsugaya was notorious for doing for no one.

Eyeing the strange salad in a corner of the fridge, she didn't hesitate to take it out and grab a fork from a nearby drawer before unceremoniously stabbing the leafy concoction and shoving a forkful in her mouth.

Toushiro Hitsugaya, captain of the tenth division was beyond liking Rukia Kuchiki.

Chewing thoughtfully, she swallowed slowly, forgetting the salad momentarily in her grasp as she stared hard at the fridge door, silverware hovering over the large bowl cradled in her opposite arm.

That's it! Was her thought as Rangiku set down the fork on the counter and opted to pluck a piece of lettuce and pop it into her mouth.

Love was a bit of a stretch. . . . But at the very least, her shrimp of a captain was damn well on his way-- Rangiku Matsumoto would be willing to bet the last of her sake on it, so concrete and evident the idea was in her mind.

The grin on her features was so large that she felt that her face might split from the excitement as she hurriedly stuffed one more handful of the salad (were those anchovies?) into her mouth, flinging the fridge door open and stuffing the bowl back inside. To say Matsumoto had run out of the apartment would have been an understatement as she bolted for the grassy field where she had set up her Senkai gate, mind awhirl with ideas, schemes, and what-if implications to the new situation at hand.

Even still, with all of the things prancing merrily around in her skull, one recurrent thought kept coming up time and time again like a charming little melody:

It's about time!


Needless to say, Toushiro was flustered from his little conversation with his lieutenant to the point where he lay in bed for nearly two hours before finally being able to fall into a restless sleep.

So really, after much consideration of the impact of Matsumoto's words (as ridiculous as they were) it shouldn't have surprised him at all to fall into a dream so easily.

There was the club from that night and Rukia in her undercover (the irony) outfit and smiling at him, moving past Jhonny with a soft brush of her arm against the stranger's shoulder, eyes smoldering with a challenge.

Can you catch me?

Toushiro didn't hesitate.

Inside his mind were frantic thoughts, curses flung mentally at the young woman testing him with a smile rivaling that of the infamous Mona Lisa. He ducked, shoved people, ran after her with all the might his gigai could muster, at one point realizing they were no longer on the second floor, had instead somehow weaved their way through throngs and onto the VIP lounge, up until he nearly cornered her at the bar and then she smiled, weaving deftly past his grasping hands and leaving him with the mocking scent of lavender and a light laugh like the gentle sound of bells.

Now, a couple angry faces later and he was getting desperate, was furious at the mind games and her ability to crumble his ego in her small hands—the way she whimsically took his cleverness and blew it sky high, leaving him with nothing to show for it but the painful realization that he needed to make her pay for what she was doing to him.

"RUKIA!" There and then gone, the flash of neon lights on silk and she disappeared once more behind the corner of an employee hall, the captain following without hesitation.

Sprinting, weaving deftly left and right and once even managing to dodge the surprised flinging of a drink at his rude shove, watching with cerulean eyes as the colorful concoction sloshed high in beautiful arcing waves that undulated and glittered with the crystal light of crushed ice.

Time sped up again and the world began to spin at normal pace as he sharply turned the corner where he had last seen her, only to come to a screeching halt.

The hall was empty.

There was nothing there.

Frustration fueled the trembling of clenched fists and a locked jaw, teeth grinding together as sharp narrow eyes took in the area with disbelief and anger. This was beyond stupid, was a waste of time when they should be concentrating on the mission, should be doing what they had come to do so that he could go back home where things made sense.

Then he heard her laugh.

It was honest, a pure sense of joy that appeared on her features as he turned on his heel to face her. Before he could utter a word, could even begin to muster up the anger he had felt just moments ago, all thoughts were derailed by her petite hands grabbing for one of his own and then turning him so that they went down the hall together.

"Rukia, where the hell are we-"

Shh.

A slim finger to pink lips and she offered him a mischievous grin, violet eyes sparkling with happiness as they continued down the suddenly mile long corridor. It didn't really occur to him to be confused at the time, too enraptured by the hands clasping his own to realize much of anything else. If Matsumoto caught them like this, he thought with a frown, this would surely fuel her theory.

Then there were people.

Voices he hadn't noticed before came to life around him, conversations weaving together seamlessly to create a cacophony of white noise to his already befuddled mind. Still, Rukia continued forward in the corridor, weaving easily between groups and even diving under a man handing a woman a drink as if it was the most normal thing to do—so he followed.

For what seemed like an eternity they continued like that until he couldn't help it anymore and forcefully tugged on her hands so she would turn. A sudden stop and she swiveled sharply to face him, eyes innocently wide and blinking at him beneath long black lashes, back twisted in such a way that he could see the sensual curving of her back and the way her small hips jutted out just so.

Toushiro swallowed.

"W-where are we going, Rukia?"

The chatter all around them suddenly stopped.

Looking up in surprise, it took him a moment to realize that Rukia's hand was no longer in his own and she was running again, laughter his only clue to her path.

A string of expletives and immediately the chase began again.

Running, towards where he had no idea and would've been lost had it not been for the hand that suddenly shot out from his left and gave his shirt a good tug, effectively pulling him into a small corridor he hadn't noticed before.

She was quiet.

This time when Rukia stepped backwards with a pale hand still grasping his shirt, she did so slowly, eyes never leaving his own and reflecting something that he couldn't quite place except for the fact that it was sending a strange thrill through his system.

Suddenly her hand fisted and she was pulling him closer.

It literally knocked the wind out of him when she crushed her lips to his own, all muscles immediately going stiff with the onslaught of contact. Her warmth sent a dizzying fire through his system, hands immediately drawn to the small of her back and a low purr escaping his throat before he could even realize it was his own. She was kissing him senseless and there was absolutely nothing he could do but let her, his own limbs taking a life of their own and a wall suddenly behind her as he grabbed the nape of her neck tenderly and forced her face up towards his, leaning into her petite form and effectively blocking any form of movement past him.

Her hands, dear gods, those hands were sliding slowly up and down his chest, finding their own way around his neck and letting him know she was enjoying it just as much as he.

"Toushiro."

Her voice was deep with a desire mimicked in his heavy breaths as he dazedly turned down to look at her and then—

He woke up.

If there had ever, ever been a time when he wanted to really just take his sword to his own body, it had been then as he lay there, smacking his forehead with the palm of his hand and growling in frustration. Dragging tan hands over his aggravated features, Toushiro sat up and tried to rub at his eyes roughly, attempting futilely to erase the vivid dream from the back of his lids where it was constantly replaying in shadowed fragments, where he could almost feel her hands skimming over his skin gently.

No more vodka. No more alcohol, no more offhand drinking ever again. By no means in his long shinigami life would he ever allow a drop of such a toxin to enter his bloodstream again.

Because those small hands, those soft lips, the way her hair brushed past his cheek—

STOP IT! He wanted to bellow at himself as he tugged at his white hair with tightly clasped fists, NO MORE!

A shower, yes, that was exactly what he needed—a very long and cold shower. Glancing over at the bedside clock informed him it was a little past eight and definitely a time when Orihime would already be at school, leaving him alone in the apartment and with plenty of time to wash away whatever other strange things were invading his head.

With that thought in mind he immediately swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, sheets long ago discarded in his haste to erase everything from his head and the world momentarily spinning as he blinked profusely.

This, this was the end of it all. The mission, all his stress, every little crevice of his mind that had been taken up by "have-to-do's" and "should-do's" were beginning to bleed together and the constant pressure was too much—that had to be it. The alcohol had just been a bridge for those things to mesh and send him into such a whacked out and . . . . and. . .

Well. . . good-

No, nonononono! NOT good dream—a nightmare in fact. Yes, a very vivid and pleasurable

Nightmare! It was a nightmare!

Frantic movements, the throwing of a towel, stripping quickly before without a second thought allowing the water to run off of his skin and send a shock that almost turned him numb with the cold. The water did wonders for him once he allowed the chill to take over, sighing contentedly when the cool droplets touched his feverish skin. He would've stayed like that for at least a good hour or two had it not been for the fact that it wasn't his home, and surely Orihime would be the one to end up paying the water bill later (if she didn't have a heart attack first).

So coming to a compromise, he stayed in the shower for thirty minutes (of which twenty consisted of just standing there) at one moment looking down at his fingertips and noting idly that the skin had wrinkled, pruned by the onslaught of water upon his body.

As he stepped out of the shower and onto the plush rug toweling himself off, Toushiro allowed his toes to scrunch, enjoying the feeling of the soft fibers between his digits in the silent bathroom.

He took his time to dress.

It wasn't until he stared up at the mirror, staring at his reflection calmly now that he realized that there were things he needed to prioritize while standing there adjusting the white collar of the gray polo.

One: He needed to rethink the strategy they were taking to lure out their target so that he could use the last few days of their mission to try and relax.

Two: There had to be some way to tighten down the whip on Matsumoto—she was literally going to be the end of him with her little random speeches and whatnots she was prone to do. Plus the fact that she never did her work always added to his tensions as well.

And three: . . . was there a three?

There was a momentary hesitation as he ran a hand through the white tufts of his hair and frowned in sudden thought, the reflection across from him mimicking his reaction.

Actually yes, there was technically a three: avoid Rukia until he could calmly face her without having an assault of . . . well, certain images in his head.

With that final thought in mind he swung the door of the bathroom open, bundle of clothes and towel in hand as his eyes fell to the figure on the couch and he froze at the threshold.

Large violet eyes stared up at him unabashed over one shoulder, Rukia getting up and offering a cheery but formal good morning as she smoothed down the skirt of her white sundress.

"Figured you haven't had breakfast yet, sir, so I was wondering if you would like to go eat with me?"

Well. . . . there went number three.

He couldn't stop staring, really he couldn't. Transfixed aquamarine orbs followed her lips as she spoke but gathered nothing that poured forth from them, brow furrowed but otherwise offering no reaction as she tilted her head and her own brow wrinkled in worry after she realized that he seemed rooted to the spot.

"Hitsugaya-taichou?"

Dear gods it was going to be a damn long day.


How many times she had attempted to make the captain talk, Rukia didn't know.

They had walked to a nearby restaurant where she insisted on treating him to breakfast, after which she took to try and coax an order out of him after half an hour of sitting in the booth and sending the waitress away three times. It wasn't like the place was shady or anything, what with its quaint little private booths and the large glass front displaying the curly lettering of "Auntie Miki's" proudly across it. The place wasn't exactly swarming with people but it wasn't empty either and the atmosphere was calm, inviting even with all its little western country charm.

Purposefully, the black haired shinigami ordered something neither of them had heard of—something called pancakes. Hers with chocolate chips (quite the addicting morsel, this chocolate of the real world) and his with strawberries. It wasn't until the plates were set down in front of them that she finally was able to get any sort of reaction on his features.

"What the hell is this?" They were strange disk shaped things that looked like bread, topped with pieces of strawberry, sauce, and a frill of some white cream. Glancing over at hers, he noted the drizzle of deep brown liquid and the dots scattered in hers.

"Mine have chocolate." She replied, sweeping her fork over the plate to encompass the whole of the stack of three—"yours have strawberries and strawberry sauce on them. Sorry, they didn't have anything watermelon flavored on the menu."

It wasn't until then that his gaze met hers and she realized that that was the first time today he had made an effort to address her directly.

"How do you know watermelon is my favorite fruit?"

Taking the knife in one hand and fork in the other, Rukia put most of her concentration on cutting through the fluffy pancakes with much care, glancing up at him briefly with a half smile. "You seemed to really enjoy that popsicle yesterday. Plus I've seen Matsumoto on several occasions running through Rukongai frantically looking for a watermelon to bribe you with after a long night with the bottle."

His gaze seemed concentrated on her hands as she methodically continued to eat, his own stack momentarily forgotten in front of him. "You'd think she'd try to get a little more creative with her methods after the first try."

Swallowing, Rukia tilted her head slightly as she grinned. "But why change something that always works?"

"I never said that it did."

"So then seeing her chasing down the same vendor several times a month has nothing to do with it?"

He shrugged, sighing heavily before beginning to work on the plate before him.

"So what do you like then?" Popping the small piece into his mouth, Rukia watched discreetly as he allowed himself to take in the flavor of the bite, accepting it with a slight relaxing of his brow and indifference in his eyes—at least he didn't hate it. "Lemme guess—" he said after swallowing, "strawberries."

There was a frown on her features as she eyed him strangely, fork hovering midway to her mouth.

"Why would you say that?" He nearly choked on the next piece of pancake in his mouth when he realized what he had said, and even more when the fact that she was asking for an explanation was why she was looking at him directly.

An image of Ichigo flashed in his mind but he didn't allow that to show on his features as he answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "you ordered my pancakes with strawberry. Usually subconsciously people use second choices as suggestions for friends."

Totally made up, but the botched attempt was better than bringing the substitute shinigami into the picture. Why that was, he didn't want to even begin wondering about.

Raising an incredulous brow, Rukia seemed to mull it over for a moment before she flicked away a strand of hair and finally turned back to him, chewing thoughtfully on some of her food before she finally nodded her consent. "Makes sense in general I guess, but no, that's not why I ordered strawberry for you, sir."

"Hitsugaya-san." He corrected, looking around to make sure no one had heard her.

"Hitsugaya-san." She said with a sigh.

"So then you ordered this for me because. . . ? What if I didn't like strawberry?"

A slight narrowing of violet eyes gave away the fact that she wasn't exactly understanding the situation, wasn't exactly used to all the question over the most minute of her actions, and that this coming from someone as usually silent as the captain of the tenth division was even harder to believe.

"If you didn't like strawberry I would've switched with you." Was the slow reply before she took a sip of her cup of milk. "As for why, I figured it was the closest thing to watermelon, and it was the least of the sweetest things offered on pancakes."

Her logic made sense in a quirky sort of way—he liked it.

"What is your favorite fruit?" He finally asked, taking another bite and watching her over the rim of his glass as he took a sip.

The white haired youth was switching topics on her faster than she could try to make sense of them. A momentary silence in which she tried to read him, and then her answer was a slight shrug.

"I'll try anything once. But in general, fruit-wise I like mango." At his questioning gaze, she answered, "It's an exotic fruit from another country. Chad let me have some a while back."

"Oh."

She took one bite, and then another, and soon they were both eating in silence, the waitress the only breaking of the quiet between them when she came to ask them how they were doing. With an enthusiastic reassurance from Rukia, the woman slipped away again and left them to their own devices—more or less to the petite shinigami woman sneaking glances and trying to figure out her superior's strange behavior, of which she came to no sound conclusion even after an hour in his presence.

"Well," she said once they had finished and she had paid, "I guess you would like to go back to Orihime's now?"

Toushiro shrugged.

"You have something planned?"

"No, not really. I was just going to go on Hollow patrol while I was here—figured it would kill some time, and help me train a bit since Ichigo and the others are in class right now. I really didn't feel like going today with them." A grimace, and she turned away from him.

Sighing, teal orbs watched as she ran a hand behind her neck with closed eyes, tilting it back and forth and wincing.

"Couldn't sleep well?"

"Not really. Don't know why, but this mission gives me a really bad feeling and it made me restless the whole night after we got back." Raising a white brow, Toushiro glanced sideways at her as they crossed the street and continued, well aware of the strange looks they were getting (what were two middle schoolers doing out so early?).

Honestly, he didn't know what to answer—so he didn't.

When they made it back to Orihime's apartment they both quickly changed to shinigami, Rukia taking obvious delight as she jumped up effortlessly onto the roof and closed her eyes with a content smile as the warmth of the sun fell on her delicate features.

Overall the afternoon went well enough, Toushiro leaving most of the kills to Rukia and simply sitting nearby as he watched her work, yelling pointers offhandedly at her back whenever she made a mistake. She seemed enthusiastic enough to take everything on, not once taking out her shikai to fight—something that surprised the captain, who figured someone with her skill set would gladly show off. Nonetheless, it seemed the young Kuchiki was always full of surprises, never failing to impress, and managed to fight mostly with her sword as opposed to her method of choice with kidou spells.

It settled him into a rhythm he could deal with, allowing his own mind to wander and making sure periodically that she could handle the situation without much damage. In total they managed to get four small fry after a few hours, after which he almost had to drag her away from another potential fight reminding her that she would be needed later that night.

With one final nod of consent, Rukia sheathed her sword and followed the captain back, offering a smile and a wave of parting as she began turning to head over to Ichigo's to freshen up and take a nap before anyone of the Kurosaki family could show up. Toushiro offered (more like tried to force her) into allowing him to escort her, insisting on her safety as their bait—to which she vehemently refused. Eventually they ended up coming to a compromise and settled on him walking her halfway, Rukia annoyed as she walked behind him but otherwise not offering any comment on the matter.

Once she finally made it to Ichigo's, her shower was short and full of thoughts of possible problems the captain could be facing. And being the logical creature she was, Rukia didn't rule out the possibility of the problem being her—as a hindrance, as something maybe that he just couldn't stand—which was part of the reason she didn't offer any suggestion as to make him stay with her for company or ask him to go with her Hollow hunting in the first place. Needless to say the surprise had been on her when he offered to stay and even gave her advice on what she needed to work on. And as harsh and blunt as his comments were, Rukia couldn't be any more thankful for him taking the time to help her—it wasn't something required of him and she was at least humble enough to be thankful for him being honest with her as she had fought.

After the shower and quick dressing (post-kicking Kon out of the room) the young Kuchiki noblewoman sighed heavily and took to organizing both her thoughts and her things, making sure not to leave a trace of her presence anywhere in the house other than her small closet.

She made sure to grab everything for the mission—the clothes, make-up, shoes, and other knick knacks and pack them in a small bag that she placed in the corner of her bedding, telling Kon to make sure and wake her in two hours. It only took her a moment to realize that Kon being Kon would probably just go right ahead and fall asleep next to her, and so then she just frowned and stole Ichigo's alarm clock, resetting it to the proper time she required and setting the device at the foot of her makeshift bed next to the bag in her dark closet.

Maybe after relaxing a bit, after allowing the thoughts to just settle, it might all be that much clearer when the time came to address the oddity that was their situation. . .

For now, all she could do was try and relax and hope for the best.


"There's no way I'm wearing this." Lifting his arms to emphasize the outfit, Toushiro aimed his glare at his cooing vice captain and their current hostess.

"But taichooou, it looks so sexy on you!" She gushed, literally skipping up to him and turning him so he could look at his reflection in the mirror. Her chin was propped on his shoulder, grinning as she nodded in enthusiasm. Of course her return to the human world would be imminent (and quite punctual) since today would be the day Toushrio and Rukia both wore the outfits they had spent all morning yesterday getting.

It was nothing excessive really, but he felt out of place wearing it nonetheless. The black button down shirt was comfortable, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the inside of the cuffs a striped gray and white pattern that appeared on all the other trimmings of the shirt. The designs were, he had to grudgingly admit, quite fitting. On his back was a curling white dragon with a mouth open in a furious roar, the body coiled around an ornately stitched cross.

His dark denim pants were baggy and allowed for ease of movement should need be, matching gray sneakers adorning his feet. Nonetheless, the white belt easily had to be his favorite feature, hanging off his waist slightly with three chains that hooked to his back pocket where his cell phone had been stashed.

It was definitely nothing like his simple outfit from yesterday—the grey polo and black jeans.

"Just think of this as a chance to play dress-up!" Brows furrowing, he scowled at her reflection.

"This is an important mission, Matsumoto, I'd doubt they would have a captain doing this-"

A knock on the door and Orihime scurried away with their eyes on her retreating back. When she returned, Ichigo waved at him, Ishida following closely behind with a polite nod in his direction.

"Ready?" Ichigo asked, eyeing the outfit and grinning. "Rukia's waiting for you in the living room."

They didn't even note Rangiku's disappearance until she shoved past them all and back into the room, excitement on her features. "Ne, Ishida-kun, you did wonders with Rukia-chan!"

Were those stars in her eyes?

Her hands were clasped by her cheek as she bounced from foot to foot, gushing about the other woman who was currently in the living room. Ishida pushed up his glasses, shoulders squaring as he puffed his chest out with pride and began to explain how he had chosen everything out for her (even though she had been right there with him).

A timid knock silenced everyone as Rukia poked her head in.

"Is Hitsugaya-taichou ready?"

"Yes, yes! Come on, don't be such a stick in the mud, let's see!" And without allowing her the chance to protest, Matsumoto took hold of the small woman's arm and yanked her into the room, everyone's eyes instantly falling on her and the room falling utterly silent in awe.

He couldn't. . . .

For the first time in his life, Toushiro Hitsugaya, young prodigy and captain of the tenth division of Sereitei could honestly and completely say he was speechless. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't tear his wide eyes away from her—he couldn't move. It was like being in that dream and subconsciously he took a step back in fear she might actually do what her doppelganger had, snapping out of it when he felt more than heard Hyourinmaru's snicker in his head.

"Oooh, you're so adorable Rukia!" Orihime quickly hugged her, breaking the momentary spell as Matsumoto and her chattered excitedly, poking at different parts of the outfit.

"I want to see a three-sixty!"

"Yeah, yeah!" Orihime yelled, giggling as Rangiku grabbed Rukia's hand and raised it in a sweeping motion, forcing the black haired young woman to turn slowly with feeble protests.

The halter top was daring to say the least, the slit going down to her belly button and revealing the whole of the gentle curve of her back. Three chains kept the two sides of the front together, dangling teasingly between the curves of her breasts and twinkling in the light. The two ties were done in a bow at the nape of her neck, loose ends dangling in the small dip of her spine.

Dear gods, did silk ever look good on her.

It was a deep plum that rivaled that of night, bringing out her violet eyes beautifully. The skirt was short and went to about midthigh, revealing creamy legs that she obviously wasn't comfortable revealing so much of and her low heels were open toed, secured with black ribbons that coiled up her leg until mid-shin where they tied off in the back in small bows.

The stubborn strands he grew used to seeing loose were all gathered into a tiny side ponytail that was mostly hidden by a large flower, bangs falling but not long enough to hide the lengthy silver earrings with mauve feathers that brushed against her bare shoulders.

It made her look beautiful, magnifying the effect of her baby-face features to a degree that left her doll-like.

Hoping beyond all hope that no one had caught his reaction, the captain frowned slightly to regain his composure.

"D-Don't you think that's a bit. . . excessive?"

Did he just stutter?

Immediately the others turned to him, Matsumoto even daring to look aghast at the suggestion. For a moment he noted a pained look on Rukia's features, but that was quickly wiped clean as she subtly crossed her arms over her chest shyly, realizing suddenly just how many males were in the room.

"You think we didn't do our homework, Hitsugaya-san?" Ishida's sudden intrusion surprised them, but that didn't distract him as he turned on the small captain.

"We studied every woman's file, every detail that was a common link between all of them. . . what you see here-" He lifted a hand to indicate Rukia's outfit- "Is everything our target liked in women. The fact that Kuchiki-san can pull it off so beautifully only adds to our chances to catch whatever it is preying on these girls. I'm just glad we didn't use this yesterday, or it would've been our trump card down the drain."

Sighing, Toushiro pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What you don't seem to understand is that by making her bait for that thing, we're also throwing her to the sharks."

Rangiku raised an eyebrow then, turning to him as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"But taichou, that's why you're there."

And try as he might, he couldn't deny it.

Somehow the conversation started turning again and the others slowly trickled out of the room and into the living room where Orihime had already set snacks on the table. Rukia was standing there, staring out the door in deep thought for a moment as the white haired young man hesitated beside her.

"Are you going to be okay in that?"

Quick violet eyes flicked to him then, momentarily surprised at his sudden proximity and the fact that she had forgotten he was in the room still as well.

"It's only for one night." Was her uncertain reply, arms crossed tightly over her chest as she allowed her eyes to stray once again past the threshold. Whether it was more to reassure herself or him, Toushiro wasn't quite sure.

"I'm sure we could find something else. . ."

"I'll be fine sir, don't worry about me. I'm just really starting to believe Matsumoto-san would've been better suited for this job." A wry grin and then she quietly slipped out of the room before he could even begin to fathom an answer.

They didn't stay for long (barely touched the snacks), calling the cab once ten o'clock hit and waiting a mere fifteen minutes for it to appear. As the two shinigami were walking down the stairs, the captain caught the slight shiver of his partner and didn't hesitate in slipping off his coat, putting it on her shoulders as she stopped mid-step in surprise.

"Keep that on until we get there."

"I-"

"That's an order." Was the gruff reply as he avoided her gaze.

Swallowing, Rukia dipped her head in a slight nod. "Yes, Hitsugaya-san."

The images Toushiro had tried so hard to keep out of his mind kept coming in random flashes as he stared out his window, well aware of the young woman sitting a few feet away from him as he closed his eyes and allowed his forehead to touch the cool of the car window's glass.

Between the hum and vibrations of the vehicle, their melding sounds became a sort of melody that lured him into a meditative state, calming him and clearing away all thoughts of anything past the motions of the car. Time seemed to slip away then, soothingly almost as he fell into a state neither awake nor fully asleep beside Rukia and his clenched hands relaxed in his lap.

"Do you think. . . we'll find him there?" The voice that broke through his trance was soft, resonating with genuine worry and sadness at the thought of the pictures of the victims they had seen.

How long had she been torturing herself with the memories of those young women? Her delicate brow was furrowed, face flickering with the passing of each streetlamp by her window and the darkness making her eyes two ethereal pools of violet in the shadows.

"There's no guarantee." Observing her silently, Toushiro tried not to feel bad for offering the harsh truth instead of a lie. She was after all, a shinigami and he an unwavering captain—he respected that status enough to give her the real scope of the situation at hand.

Her eyes lowered not in melancholy but in thought then, pink glossed lips settling into a grim line and the coat around her shoulders held firmly by the lapel between thin graceful fingers.

"If another girl dies under my watch, I'll never forgive myself." She whispered then. Through the window he could see his frowning reflection and the glimmer in her eyes when she met his gaze indirectly.

"This is no one's fault, Rukia."

"That doesn't matter, they deserve the chance to live."

"As stupid as they are sometimes." He muttered under his breath.

"Agreed." Rukia replied with a crooked grin.

It didn't take them much longer in the cab then, ten minutes later arriving once again at the club and making their way confidently to the third floor (straight through the stairs this time for the sake of not having a repeat of yesterday) and so they each settled at their prearranged places.

It took merely an hour into it for Toushiro to already glare down three men who he knew only wanted to get up his partner's skirt. Somehow, the very idea angered him all of a sudden, leaving him seething as his fingers tightened their grip on the tall cool glass of beer. Men could be such a dirty lot sometimes, having no discipline over themselves whatsoever and making the rest of them look like slobbering fools.

Bunch of human idiots.

He hoped their target had guts—there were a few frustrations that were beginning to pile up and really any sort of excuse would be delightful right about now to pull out his sword. This little game of hide and seek was way beyond his short temperament, and it was soon going to blow if something didn't happen.

One hand was holding the glass and the other was flexing in anticipation for a fight he wondered would even come. Inside, he could feel Hyourinamru's growl of annoyance. Sitting there, he almost missed the arrival of another beside him, waving away the blonde bartender politely.

"She yours?" Straight to the point and unafraid—he didn't like this guy already. Giving him the once over, Toushiro noted his deep maroon hair and slate grey eyes as he slid into the bar stool beside the shorter man, gesturing with a jerk of his head towards Rukia a few stools down.

He was lean, obviously not like some of the other bar patrons who were beyond drunk and had not seen a day of physical exertion in their life, waving around like imbeciles to the beat of some obnoxiously loud tune. A well kept man with simple clothing—button down silk shirt to match his hair, black slacks, and a single thin silver chain around his neck accenting the smooth dip of his neck. He was sharp as well—had obviously picked up on the deadly aura Toushiro was exerting at any soul stupid enough to step close to his fellow shinigami that seemed too stupid to be their target after a quick reiatsu probe.

Swallowing hard, he couldn't understand why the answer was so hard to grate out.

"No."

"She looks like she can offer a decent conversation." A clench of his jaw, but otherwise the captain offered no reply as the other man slipped easily away to speak to the violet eyed young woman after ordering drinks for two.

He didn't want to watch. It bothered him to think that such a petite girl could do nothing were something to happen because it would put their mission at stake. But somehow he couldn't resist and he ended up glancing between the passing of other people—a thing that to this day he considered lucky. In the span of a single breathe Rukia's face suddenly changed everything: from the passive, polite look as she swiveled to face the newcomer to one that instantly told him something was about to go wrong.

The sound her glass made as it fell from her slack grip was muffled out by the reverberating noise of the music below as wide violet eyes fell upon the man before her, face pale and in open shock. People passing then, laughing, joking drunkenly, and Toushiro dove against the counter to catch a glimpse of the shinigami a few bar stools down.

A single name slipped from her lips that he could just barely make out from his perch, the sound of her voice lost long before it could reach him.

"Ashido."

Instantly he got up, leaving his drink and making sure to not lose them as he weaved through the throngs of people milling around the main bar counter. But then a girl laughed and brushed past him, taking his eyes away for only a second before he turned back to his destination and froze in horror.

The barstool Rukia had just occupied was empty.

They were gone.