It took him nearly a week to make all of the arrangements necessary so that he could go and collect his...wife. And despite the fact that he'd spent at least three of the days out of that week drinking himself into a damned stupor, he had to say- he felt that he was handling the new life altering change quite well.
Very maturely.
He hadn't yelled or screamed or maimed anyone. Which was surprising even to him if one took into account just how this had happened. As well as the fact that he hadn't known anything about it.
I mean really, had Gran Torino expected him to be happy to have been bound to a total stranger against his will? He knew that the elder was getting up there in age- but there was no way that he could have actually expected him to be happy about this.
Still...he was resigned to make the best of things. If only out of consideration for Nana and the fact that she had gone to such disturbing lengths to secure a young lady for his life mate. And who knew. Maybe the two of them would actually hit things off and like one another once they got to know each other a little bit.
Even if they were never quite lovers or anything then maybe they could be good friends? Or was that too optimistic of him? He didn't know. Sighing, he checked the bedroom that he'd fixed up for her.
It was a room that was next to his own room. And though there was a wall separating the two rooms, there was a door that led to his room. He'd figured that it might be a good idea to somehow have their rooms connected. Just in case something happened.
Like a nightmare or a villain attack or something since it wasn't totally unheard of for either of those things to happen. He justified the door leading to his room by telling himself that he was just trying to look out for the young woman that was technically his.
It had nothing at all to do with the fact that his wife had direct blood ties to Nana. Or the fact that he could be overly protective and possessive.
Nope. Nuh-uh. No way.
Scrubbing his face with his hands he muttered, "I'm an idiot." as he turned and began walking down the hallway towards the front door. He still wasn't thoroughly convinced that someone wasn't playing some sort of prank on him. But whatever.
He'd figure things out in time. He was sure of it.
Walking out of his home, he moved over to the limo that was awaiting him and gave his driver a polite greeting before climbing inside. Minutes later, he was staring out the window at the passing scenery of the city wondering how Ichigo would react to seeing him for the first time.
Would she be shocked? Surprised? He scrunched his nose up in a disgusted manner as he wondered if she were a fan girl of his hero persona. Oh god, don't let him be married to a fan girl! He'd never live the embarrassment down.
To say that Ichigo was trying to adjust to things would be an understatement. Between finding out about her 'arranged' marriage and her pregnancy- she was so mentally exhausted that it wasn't even funny.
Sure, she was still pissed. At her dad and Kisuke. But she couldn't exactly be pissed at the poor guy that she was saddled with. No matter how much she was worried about what kind of person he was.
All that she'd been told was that he was a really nice and special guy. Nothing more and nothing less.
Was she supposed to be happy with that description? It sounded as if it were just any other generic description of a person. She needed to know his name, his age, his physical characteristics! What was his personality like? Just something more than 'he's nice and special'.
Sure, she wasn't a shallow person or anything. She may not be totally into dating or anything that ran along those lines. But knowing those things was important. Weren't they?
Sighing as she leaned back from the toilet, where she'd just spent the past fifteen minutes dry heaving, she tiredly rested her back against the cabinet and just sat there trying to catch her breath as she heard a soft knock on the bathroom door.
"Ichigo?" Rukia said her name questioningly. She glared at the door for a second or two as she silently debated with herself about whether or not she should bother to answer her friend. She was still sort of carrying a grudge against her for putting her to sleep when she'd been pulled off of her dad and Kisuke, kicking and screaming like a lunatic, the other day.
As if they hadn't deserved being beaten nearly to death.
The dumbasses. She thought darkly as she ran her tongue along her teeth. Inwardly cringing a little bit at the remnant taste of vomit. Ugh. She was barely two months pregnant with her parasite and she was already hating it. Huffing softly, she put her hand over her stomach and muttered to her unborn child.
"Your dad had better be a fucking delightful and indestructible man. He'll die and leave you alone with me if he isn't." And gave an small smile as her baby sent her the impression of being worried. Both for her and it's dad.
Patting her stomach she made an amused sound and then slowly stood up and flushed the toilet.
Rukia hadn't left her spot outside of the door, though her silence might have easily been mistaken for her leaving. So she was right there when Ichigo finally stepped out into the open again.
"Are you alright?" She asked as she brushed by her.
"I'm fine Rukia. Just...trying to deal with everything." Which was true. She was trying to deal with everything. But it was difficult considering how suddenly everything had been thrown at her. A baby was one thing. Especially since she hadn't fucked anyone.
But a husband too.
Sighing, because she could feel the beginnings of a migraine she slowly made her way to her bedroom. Rukia was right behind her. Probably wanting to help her sort herself out by talking about everything. But honestly, she just didn't want to talk to anyone about anything.
Not the baby. Not her secret husband. Nothing.
She was just...numb and tired enough at the moment not to really give a damn about what anyone wanted. She just wanted to be left alone. Was that too much to ask?
Stepping into her bedroom, she made a beeline for her bed- not bothering to try and shut her door since Rukia would have been hit in the face by it if she did. So naturally while she was collapsing onto her bed face first, her friend was making herself at home in the small swivel chair at her work desk.
"Ichigo…" Rukia started but then paused as the other woman turned her head just enough to shoot her a menacing glare. "I know that your upset about this...situation."
Rukia didn't know the fucking half of it.
Ichigo was more than just upset. She had been thrust into a situation that she wasn't sure that she could get herself out of. And sure, it wasn't exactly the first time that it had happened. But at least she'd known what she was walking into most of the other times it had happened.
And she'd still gone along with it willingly. That was the crux of the matter here. She'd been willing all of the other times.
She hadn't been willing this time. This time her ability to choose had been ripped away from her as if she were...nothing. Not even a person.
It was more than just upsetting.
After everything that she'd done. All of the fights that she'd fought and won over the years- she was still reduced to nothing and betrayed by those closest to her.
How was she supposed to forgive them for this? How was she supposed to ever trust them again?
Burying her face back in her pillow, she decided to ignore Rukia's presence. After all, it wasn't as if she could understand how she felt. She knew that she was trying. But trying and doing were two very different things.
Rukia seemed to understand. And even got up and petted her hair to get her to turn her head and then placed a kiss on her cheek once she did before she then left her alone.
And once she was finally gone, and the door to her room closed, Ichigo gave in to something that she hadn't given into ever since she was a small child.
Sadness. Overwhelmingly, madding sadness. There was so much of it that she could have choked on it. She couldn't breathe. She felt as if she were suffocating.
Why? Why did these things always happen to her? Why couldn't anyone ever think before they did something? Why was she always the one who picked up the pieces and suffered the consequences? She didn't understand. What did she do to deserve this shit?
The first sob that escaped her, startled her. And was quickly followed by several more that she tried to muffle with her pillow. It had been years since she'd last really cried about anything. But here, alone with her thoughts- it felt as if it were the only thing that she could do.