"Ridiculous," Rangiku moaned dramatically as she grabbed Rukia's arm and dragged her from their shared bedroom. "A guard everywhere we go? Bad enough we're all locked in together at night, now we're being followed around even in the palace?" Her voice took on a whine as a dark-haired guard fell in behind them.
"It's not ideal," Rukia agreed far more calmly, before yelping as Rangiku sped down the hallway with her in tow. "Where are we going anyway?"
"I am going to watch the guard practice. And you…" Her sister brightened up suddenly. "You are coming with me, so you can spend more time outside."
Rukia blinked up at her suspiciously, but Rangiku was half again her height and weighed more than she did. And being outside didn't sound so bad.
When they arrived at the practice salle and Ichigo was leaning against the fence as he called out orders to the group of twenty men he was training, however, Rukia's cheeks flushed brightly. "You're making me look like – like some kind of stalker," she hissed at her younger sister. But Rangiku just laughed.
"Please. I see the way he looks at you," she whispered. "And the way he's always available and willing when you need an escort into the city."
Ichigo shouted something vulgar at the men in the salle, an expression of disgust on his face, and ordered, "Run ten laps around the salle, double time. And next time, don't stay up half the night drinking!" Then he turned, and his eyes met Rukia's. Under the sunlight they were lighter, almost honey-colored. His cheeks, on the other hand, immediately turned red. "My apologies, your highnesses," he mumbled. "I didn't realize there were ladies here."
Rukia rolled her eyes at him suddenly. "It's not as if we haven't heard worse," she said. "My ears won't burn off just because I heard you compare your men to donkeys."
The words brought a smirk to Ichigo's face and he glanced toward the pack of trainees running on the far side of the rectangular space. "I suppose not. Running out of things to do in the palace again?" he asked.
"We're being followed by guards everywhere," Rangiku whined, lips pouting so dramatically that even Rukia rolled her eyes a little. "Father says we can't be left alone anywhere except our bedroom."
"I'd heard that," Ichigo acknowledged, and glanced at Rukia. "Are you unhappy with the guards assigned to you? Sergeant Abarai picked some of his best men."
"You weren't assigned," Rukia said quietly, and felt her cheeks heat.
"Hn. I was, actually," Ichigo said mildly. "Abarai assigned me as your guard whenever you leave the building."
"You have a personal guard?" Rangiku squealed. "Why don't I?"
Ichigo yelled at his trainees again before returning his attention to the princesses. "You all do. Kira's your guard. Abarai assigned whoever he thought you'd be least likely to outrun or chase off." He looked at Rukia meaningfully.
"So when are you available to guard Rukia?" Rangiku asked, and ignored Rukia's mumble of Really, Rangiku?
Ichigo glanced up at the sky and then at his men, who were on their fourth lap. "I'm about to send this group to dunk their heads since they all drank themselves sick last night. Do you need to go somewhere, your highness?"
Rukia just looked at him for a moment, lips parted, until Rangiku jabbed her elbow into her side. "Ow! Ah – I'd like to take a walk in the gardens," she admitted. "I'm not due to see Yuzu again until next week and I'm starting to feel a bit…stir-crazy."
"I'd be happy to escort you both once I've dismissed this lot," Ichigo agreed.
But Rangiku grinned at him. "I'm going into the city. If this Kira will allow me off the grounds anyway. He looks so dour."
Rukia watched as Ichigo glanced back to look at Kira, who was watching the proceedings impassively. He really did look awfully dour, she thought.
"Alright, go dunk your heads in the trough and take a break," Ichigo yelled a few minutes later as the last man straggled towards him. "And don't do it again. In a real fight a hangover could get you killed." He scowled as they walked past him, more than one of the men looking green. When they were gone, he jumped the fence and dusted his hands off. "Your highness?" he asked expectantly.
Rukia pinched her sister lightly in the side and set off for the gate that led from the training grounds to the vast gardens of the palace. She hadn't been in the gardens in months, and they seemed larger than she remembered. But the manicured pathways were the same as always, and so was the vast emptiness: after Emperor Yamamoto's last wife died, the garden parties and games of hide and seek ended. She doubted that anyone except the gardeners saw much of the grounds.
"Were you able to visit your family last week?" Rukia asked as they strolled along a pebbled pathway that led through tall hedges. They were already out of sight of the palace and not another soul was in sight.
"They're living down by the canal now. It's a nicer place than the house by the merchants' quarters," Ichigo said. "Karin's a shopkeeper's assistant and my father is still a healer. They're pretty happy I'm home."
They turned down another path, this one lined with trees so tall that their branches had started to twine overhead and form a natural tunnel. "I'm glad," Rukia said softly, and chanced a look at him. His flame-bright hair was ruffled by the breeze and he looked relaxed – as relaxed as she'd ever seen him. Though his palm rested lightly on the hilt of his sword, it seemed more like habit than necessity.
"Hn. It was a good visit. Even if my father immediately asked why I don't have a wife," Ichigo grumbled. He wasn't looking at her as he said it, but there was a slight flush to his cheeks.
A breeze rustled through the leaves overhead, and Rukia's laughter joined it. "Haven't you only been back from the war for a month?" she asked. "When would you have had time to court and marry a woman?"
"Che. Tell that to him. He wants grandchildren, and neither of my sisters have married either. Yuzu was never interested in boys, and Karin – well." Ichigo cleared his throat and looked away. "Her fiancé died in the war."
Rukia's hand touched his lightly, and though she knew it wasn't entirely proper, when Ichigo's hand drifted closer in response she twined her fingers with his. She didn't say anything, but after a few more steps he spoke again.
"He was a good friend. But he was assigned to the infantry, and he was a big man – he made an easy target." Ichigo's voice was rough – but he squeezed her hand lightly. "Ah, sorry. Didn't mean to get melancholy," he told her, as they made it through the tunnel. The greenhouse loomed in front of them.
"Let's go inside," Rukia suggested. "There are some very pretty plants that only grow in here."
Ichigo held the door open for her and they stepped inside. The air was scented with vanilla and oranges – he could see trees growing close to the walls of the greenhouse with green fruit growing from them. "This is huge," he said when the door shut behind them.
"Hn. My sisters and I used to play here," Rukia agreed. "We were banned when the younger girls knocked over a few too many of the pots."
"Tell me about your sisters?" Ichigo asked as he led her toward a low bench beneath one of the orange trees. He brushed the wooden boards off before she sat, pale blue silk settling around her legs.
"How long do you have?" Rukia asked jokingly, but she said, "Nanao, Rangiku, and I are the closest. Nanao's less than two years younger than me and Rangiku is barely three years younger – father married her mother very quickly. Nanao is very serious. She speaks six languages and tutors the youngest girls. And General Kyouraku is in love with her, which is a secret – except of course everyone knows. Rangiku is the most dramatic of us. You met my fourth sister, Orihime – she's a terrible romantic. She loves romance novels. And Tatsuki would rather be ahorse than anywhere else. She was a champion rider before…"
Ichigo sat next to her on the bench. "And your younger sisters?" he asked lightly.
"Oh – Hinamori's like Orihime, they'd rather read love stories than do anything else. Although she has a stubborn streak to her. She and Orihime find it all very romantic…"
"Find what romantic?" Ichigo's voice was still light, but he was looking at her intently. His face was awfully close to hers, and this close Rukia could see that there were little flecks in his irises. She could smell the slightly musky scent from his earlier combat exercises and the lingering hint of strong soap.
"Oh just – everything," Rukia managed.
"Do you want me to tell you that I'll keep your secrets, Rukia?" Ichigo asked, and his voice was a little husky. His pupils dilated as his eyes looked into hers. The way he was looking at her – it made her heart beat faster. It wasn't the way anyone else looked at her. It wasn't even close to the way Sosuke looked at her.
"N-no," she whispered.
"Then what do you want? You hint – and pull away when I ask questions." His eyes were still fastened on hers.
"I want – " Vanilla wafted under her nose and Rukia leaned closer. "I want this." She lifted her head and covered her mouth with his suddenly, cheeks bright red.
Before she could draw back in embarrassment, Ichigo's arm slid around her waist and he pulled her closer, practically into his lap. Her arms slid around his shoulders and neck, pulling him closer in turn. When he took control of the kiss she moaned into his mouth and it drove him on. He licked into her mouth – he tasted delicious and Rukia chased after him when his tongue slid away from hers. His other hand came up to cup the back of her neck and he tilted his head a little more to kiss her more deeply, to slant his mouth over hers.
They were panting into one another's mouths when he finally pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. "That…" He took a deep breath and his eyes opened, pupils blown wide and irises honeyed amber in the greenhouse light. "Rukia."
Her cheeks were as red as his, and she shook a little atop his lap. "That was a lot more than I expected from a first kiss," she managed.
"You've never been kissed before?" Ichigo asked and pulled back. His brow furrowed. "But –"
Before he could remember that she was a princess who wasn't really supposed to go around kissing people, Rukia leaned in and kissed him again. From her angle in his lap she could feel him hardening beneath her, but Ichigo's fingers just rested on her back as he pulled her ever closer, as though he was trying to merge them into one being.
"We probably shouldn't be doing this," Ichigo whispered. "You're the Crown Princess. I'm just a – a former soldier."
"I don't care," Rukia whispered back.
The words shocked a laugh out of Ichigo, and his lips trailed down her neck. "You could get me in a lot of trouble," he said roughly.
"I'm too old to be bartered off for a peace treaty," Rukia muttered as she tilted her head up to give him more room. "And my sisters are prettier than me anyway." She shifted her hips against his and couldn't help the gasp that left her when her center brushed against him, even through their clothes. His answering groan made her shiver.
"Oh, I don't think so." But he pulled back again, and his hand came up to brush a lock of hair from her face. "Is this really what you want? Are you sure?"
This time it was Rukia who pulled away, sliding from his lap in a rustle of silk. "Well if you don't, then don't kiss me again. I don't want your – your pity."
Ichigo scowled at her and grabbed for her, dragging her back onto his lap and kissing her roughly, arm holding her tight against him and tongue driving into her mouth. His lips slid down her neck next and he tugged at the fabric covering her shoulder, pulling it down. "It's not pity," he growled against her skin.
Rukia gasped as his teeth scraped and then bit, lightly. "Ow! I can't – that's going to show if you mark me," she gasped. But she shuddered against him with arousal and she could feel herself slicken as his hips rocked up into her.
His eyes stared into hers, pupils blown wide. "Who would see it?"
Sosuke, she thought. But aloud she said, "My sisters. My sisters would see it when I change for bed."
Ichigo's tongue slid over the spot he'd bit, but he didn't bite again. "You're thinking of someone else." The words were flat as he lifted his mouth from her skin.
Rukia huffed in irritation, but his arm was tight around her. "Stop asking questions," she ordered.
It was the wrong thing to say. Ichigo's arm left her and he carefully lifted her, setting her beside him instead of on his lap. "Don't use me to distract yourself, princess," he said stiffly, and stood despite his apparent discomfort. "You should continue your walk." He was scowling again but not looking at her, and his cheeks, which had been flushed while they'd been kissing, were heated with anger instead.
"I'm not—" Rukia stood and kicked him in the shin. "Fool," she said, and stalked from the greenhouse with blue silk billowing around her. She heard Ichigo sigh, and his footsteps followed her. They didn't speak until they were at the far corner of grounds, in the rose garden. The heavy scent of the flowers flooded the air.
"I would keep your secrets if you asked," Ichigo said as she reached for a blood red rose. The petals were in full bloom and wrapped around one another.
She succeeded in snapping off the stem and separating the flower from the larger rose bush – but then Rukia hissed as a large thorn stabbed painfully into the skin between her thumb and forefinger. Blood welled from the cut, and she brought her hand to her mouth to suck on the wound.
Ichigo was faster, and as he grabbed her hand he pulled a white cloth from within the pocket of his uniform. "You need to be careful, your highness," he told her as he wrapped the cloth around her palm and put pressure on the wound.
She grumbled "I didn't see it," under her breath, though she didn't pull her hand from his.
"Hn. We should go back to the palace so you can wash that off and get a proper bandage," Ichigo said calmly.
Rukia shook his hand off of hers and swept through the gardens quickly. Tears prickled hot behind her eyes but she held her head high and wouldn't let them fall. Ichigo wouldn't let her get far ahead of him – he stayed only a few steps behind and she could feel his eyes on hers. They reached the side door of the palace in only a few minutes.
"Highness." The word was quiet and she could hear a pleading note in it. He was next to her, suddenly, and his hand reached past her to push the door open. Rukia shut her eyes tightly, and a trickle of water escaped from the corner of one eye.
A fingertip reached up and brushed away the wetness on her face. Rukia's eyes opened to look into his; under the shadow of the palace, Ichigo's eyes were still warm amber as they looked into hers. She stared at him a long moment, before throwing the door open and slipping inside. Ichigo didn't follow.
Instead, Ichigo stalked back to the training grounds and relieved Hisagi Shuhei of the guards he was training. This batch was more seasoned – and Ichigo took his frustrations out on them. For two hours he made them build up their muscle strength with body weight exercises, and their stamina by running laps around the salle. He ran with them, until his legs felt like jelly and his chest was heaving.
"Kurosaki!" Sergeant Abarai's voice cut through the sounds of harsh breathing and the sound of boots pounding into the dirt ground.
"Take a breather. Walk around the salle," Ichigo ordered, and walked over to the edge of the fence. "Sergeant," he said.
Renji looked him over, tunic soaked through with sweat and chest still heaving, and grunted. "I think you've worked them hard enough. Let them go before the bald one starts retching." Then he paused and glanced toward the gardens. "I'm reassigning you. You'll be guarding the princesses' room overnight, starting tomorrow."
Ichigo's eyebrows raised nearly into his hairline. "Why that assignment?" he asked, before turning as a struggling group of guards trailed close to him. "Training's over. Take another slow lap around the salle so you don't stiffen up."
"Because I don't want you to run off all my best guards," Renji drawled. "And the crown princess hasn't bitched about you, so maybe the princesses won't chase you off the way they have six of my other guards. Hirako won't go near them."
Privately, Ichigo thought that Rukia would have something to say about that. But – his orders didn't change and so the following evening, after a nap in the barracks, he pulled on the more formal tunic guards used for palace duties, and with extensive directions from Renji, found his way to the princesses' room.
The day guard, a slender man with light brown hair, nodded to him when he arrived, and held out a key on a rope. "Put that on," he said by way of greeting. "You're not to let anyone in or out unless there's an emergency. Some poor jerk named Onishi is on his third night trying to find out what's going on with the princesses' slippers. He should be here in a minute."
Ichigo nodded to the other guard. A heavyset man in elegant velvet stepped around the corner, followed by Hisagi and Kensei.
"Open the door," Kensei ordered, and Ichigo used the key to unlock the door and push it open. "This is your last night," he said to Onishi. If you are not able to tell the emperor why his daughters' slippers are worn out and why they are exhausted every day, your life is forfeit."
Not for the first time, Ichigo thought the Emperor needed a different incentive for these men. And there was something the old woman had told him about the princesses – but he couldn't remember what it was.
But Onishi only nodded in agreement, a nervous look on his face, and stepped inside. Ichigo could see Rukia looking at him as the door closed. Her eyes were wide and there was fear in her expression. He had to find out what the hell was going on – without getting himself killed.
The door into the princesses' bedroom wasn't entirely soundproof, but it was difficult to hear much of anything. There was the occasional sound of a girl's laughter, the occasional creak of wood from old floors. But then things were quiet. Ichigo stood guard the whole night; by morning he was stifling yawns but still standing. Kensei arrived again, and gave Ichigo a look. "Did you hear anything?" he asked.
Ichigo shook his head. "Quiet all night," he added.
"Alright – unlock the door then." Ichigo pulled the key from around his neck and pounded twice on the door before he unlocked it.
If Onishi had looked nervous the night before, he looked terrified in the morning light, and Ichigo swallowed heavily. He was looking at a dead man walking. He chanced a look into the room again; most of the women were still sleeping, but Rukia and Nanao were awake. Rukia's amethyst eyes were filled with regret, lips pale and bloodless. Nanao was holding her hands tightly, and they both had deep shadows beneath their eyes.
Ichigo let the door close as Onishi stepped out, and Kensei took the man's arm.
"Well. Time to report to the emperor, then," Kensei said. "Iwasaki will be here to relieve you in a few minutes."
He nodded in agreement, but when Kensei and Onishi were gone, he looked up and down the hallway before opening the door again. Rukia was staring at him and she rose from her place next to Nanao.
"What are you doing here?" she whispered harshly.
Ichigo scowled at her. "I was assigned to guard you. While you do – whatever it is you did last night that had you looking like you're the one who's facing the axe this morning," he growled back. Rukia recoiled from him, hurt in her eyes, and his hand reached for her wrist before she could go back inside. He kept his fingers as gentle as he could, but added, "Can't you just tell your father whatever's going on, so he'll stop having men killed?"
Rukia's eyes filled with tears, but she shook her head frantically and pulled away. Ichigo let her go, and shut the door just before another guard turned the corner.
"Is there a problem, Kurosaki?" he asked.
Ichigo shrugged. "It was quiet all night. Poor bastard's getting his head cut off this morning, though."
The guard winced and held his hand out for the key. "They know what they're in for when they seek an audience," he reminded somberly.
He shook his head and walked back down to the barracks, flinging himself on his bed without bothering to take off more than his boots. He slept until early afternoon and dreamt of Rukia's eyes, wide and scared, as poor Onishi got his head cut off by a vengeful emperor. The dreams turned into nightmares of his old comrades, of the war along the border, disjointed and filled with blood. When he woke screaming, Hisagi was staring at him and Hirako was holding him down.
"Easy, Kurosaki. There's no war here," Hisagi said quietly, when he'd composed himself. "You're in the barracks at the palace."
Ichigo shook off Hirako. "Yeah – sorry. Did I do something?" he asked, glancing between the other two men.
"Tried to give each of us a black eye," Hirako drawled. He had a lot of teeth and an odd haircut, Ichigo thought, for a guardsman. Blond, straight as a pin down to his chin, and with bangs cut straight across his forehead. But then, Abarai's hair was blood red and Ichigo had been allowed to keep his hair as it was, shaggy and falling into his eyes.
"Sorry," Ichigo said again. "Am I needed?"
"Hn. Her highness the Crown Princess requests your escort. She wouldn't allow Abarai to assign anyone else," Hisagi sneered.
Ichigo blinked and rolled out of bed. "Fine. Tell her I'm cleaning up."
"Any idea why she likes you so much?" Hirako asked.
Ichigo just shrugged. "Maybe because I'm the brother of her friend down at the orphanage?" he guessed. But he knew why, and it made something in his chest simultaneously loosen and tighten back up. She wasn't so angry with him that she didn't want to see him again – maybe.
He cleaned himself up and changed into a clean uniform. There was a small mirror in the bathing area of the barracks and Ichigo glanced at it as he passed; his hair was getting long and there were a few white strands amidst the bright orange of his hair. Ichigo combed the shaggy mop as best he could and then left the barracks.
Rukia was waiting for him, smudges of exhaustion beneath red-rimmed eyes, and Ichigo exchanged a look with Hisagi before he hurried to her side. He bowed, since there were other guardsmen watching him. "Your Highness," he said carefully. "You asked for an escort?"
She looked up at him but said nothing – just spun on her heel and stalked toward the gate. Hirako snorted and Ichigo shrugged at him before he hurried to follow, one hand on the hilt of Zangetsu. He caught up to Rukia just past the gate, and they walked in silence. She wasn't following any of her usual routes, Ichigo thought. "Are we going somewhere specific, princess?" he asked quietly, when they'd been walking for almost fifteen minutes.
"Yes." Rukia turned again and Ichigo rolled his eyes but followed.
Where they were going, it turned out, was a dressmaker's far outside of the merchant's quarter. Ichigo wouldn't have thought they were in the right place, for the building was a plain little house on a residential street. But Rukia rang the doorbell and a tall, slender woman answered. "Ah, your highness! Come in, come in. Kisuke is just setting up for your order."
Ichigo blinked in confusion but followed Rukia past the woman, who looked him up and down with a grin that bordered on a leer.
"And you brought a new guard," she observed. "Handsome, this time. The blonds you brought me before were so unpleasant. I'm Shihouin Yoruichi," she greeted, and stalked around Ichigo in such a feline manner that he couldn't help but picture a cat stalking its prey.
"Kurosaki Ichigo," he said stiffly.
Yoruichi grinned at him and before he could protest, she shoved him into a wooden chair. "Have a seat, handsome. Kisuke needs her to try the dress on one more time." Ichigo's cheeks heated and he glanced toward the next room, which Rukia had disappeared into.
Rukia's voice trailed back from the other room, over the scrape of wood against the floor. "Stop flirting, Yoruichi," she ordered, but there was a laugh in her voice and Ichigo's face softened at the sound.
Yoruichi caught it, and her grin only widened. "Oh, that's how it is?" she asked, and put a cup of tea in front of him. "Yes, your highness," she called.
Ichigo cleared his throat and mumbled his thanks for the tea. It was good and hot, if a little over-brewed. From the other room came the murmuring of voices and the rustling of fabric, then the scrape of wood on wood again.
"Well? What do you think, your highness?" a male voice asked, and Ichigo turned. A tall, blond man in a green jacket and striped pants stood next to Rukia. He leaned on a wooden cane and his eyes were hidden by a green and white striped hat. "It needed a little taking in – you're not eating enough."
Rukia – Ichigo swallowed, hard. Rukia wore a silk gown the color of a ripe plum. Ichigo wasn't overly familiar with what a princess should wear, but this looked fancier than anything he'd seen before: Gauzy fabric made up the full, sweeping skirt and bodice of the gown, and gathered at her shoulders into transparent straps. The bodice was lined with fabric to protect Rukia's modesty but clung tightly to her waist and breasts just the same. Oddly, the gauzy fabric covered her arms and the neckline was much higher than he expected, coming nearly to the base of her neck. A full-sleeved jacket of transparent white silk covered her arms.
Ichigo realized he was holding his breath, and he breathed out slowly. "Preparing for a ball?" he asked and frowned at the way Rukia flinched.
"This fits nicely, thank you, Kisuke," Rukia said firmly, and turned away from Ichigo. "Please have it sent to the palace the usual way."
Ichigo blinked as she disappeared behind the screen again.
"The princesses order many dancing gowns from us," Kisuke said casually, startling Ichigo – he hadn't realized the man was anywhere near him. "And many, many dancing slippers. But there haven't been any balls at the palace in years."
Ichigo stared at him. "Strange," he agreed.
"Strange indeed," the blond said, and fanned himself lightly.
Before Ichigo could say anything else, Rukia came around the screen again. She was dressed in the garb she'd been wearing previously, and she gestured imperiously to him. "Thank you, Kisuke, Yoruichi."
Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose and followed her back out the door. They got about fifty feet away from the modiste's before Ichigo spotted a little park – more of a garden, really – and steered Rukia into it. There was no one else in the space. "You're dancing somewhere, you and your sisters," he accused. When Rukia lowered her eyes and tried to pull away from him, Ichigo kept a firm – but gentle – hold on her arm. "You're getting out of your room somehow and you're dancing all night. And you're terrified." He could feel her shaking under his hand.
"The only way in or out of our bedroom into the rest of the palace is the door you guarded last night," Rukia said quietly. "How could we possibly be running off to dance?"
He just snorted. "I don't know, Rukia," he said just as quietly. "But you took me here today for a reason." Then he leaned down and lowered his mouth to hers. Despite her unease she was soft against him, and the little hitch of surprise in her breath before Rukia slid her free arm around the back of his neck was surprisingly satisfying.
But: "Leave it," she whispered when they parted. "I can't stop other men from throwing their lives away, but you – I'll never forgive you."
Ichigo just kissed her again and wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her closer to him. And he thought, I'll never forgive myself if I don't fix this.