A/N: As promised, here's another chapter for you guys to drift off to sleep to! Oh…and no, this isn't a very romantic chapter. I cackle that you might have thought it so!

During the Night

The dim moonlight shone in milky, dusty waves through the crack in the closet door. Rukia watched Ichigo's chest rise and fall calmly as he slept, thinking about nothing really. It was a blessing that she didn't have to think about anything at night when curled up under the blankets in Ichigo's closet. Soul Society, she thought bitterly, didn't allow such casual existence. Competition, strength, and suspicion were the foundations of the world of the shinigami and though it was better than Rukongai, she wasn't happy there. Nothing was ever pure. Things were twisted and bent, warped for the advantage of the powerful.

Rukia sighed heavily, her eyes downcast. Today she had almost forgotten her life's vow to Soul Society. She had almost felt normal, like a schoolgirl who simply didn't know much about the "feminine mystique" as Megumi had called it. It was an odd feeling, believing that her gigai was living just like everyone else. But she seemed to be growing, even if very very slowly. She found that she could almost reach the top of the doorframe now if she jumped, and that her chest linen was gradually becoming too short to tie (though this was something remedied earlier that day). Though she complained that her gigai was heavy and burdensome, Rukia had really become intimately attached to the husk. She felt like she was a whole person, whereas when she had first shoved her spirit into the form, she had felt like a ping pong ball inside a flimsy box.

Ichigo groaned in his sleep and Rukia was snapped out of her musings as she watched him like a cat in the shadows. His hand flopped down on the desk and he dragged his cell phone down to the pillow next to his face. His eyes opened blearily and he squinted, mumbling curses as he opened the phone and stared at the time display. He snapped it shut again and let his phone fall to the carpet with a soft thud before smashing his face back into the pillow with a loud groan.

Rukia pulled the closet door open a centimeter farther, but quickly closed her eyes as Ichigo sat up in his bed, scratching the back of his head. Although she was used to catching glimpses of his lean stomach, the feel of a hot, unrelenting blush crept onto her cheeks more and more frequently with such a sight. To remedy that, she simply stopped accidentally spotted him half-naked. It had been working quite well, she thought.

"Damn that phone," Ichigo mumbled as he stood up, stretching. "It's three o'clock in the morning and I heard it in my head. I swear there's something wrong with me…" Rukia listened intently as he continued to grumble, pacing his room. As he sat back down on the edge of his bed, Rukia opened one of her eyes, peeking out at him. He stared at his desk drawer intently, thinking with his brow furrowed.

Rukia squeaked quietly as his name almost slipped off her tongue. With an internal curse, she closed her eyes again quickly. She could almost feel his gaze snap to her face, barely visible in the crack of the door. After a moment of his scrutinizing inspection of her face, he stood and quietly walked over to the closet. The door slid open and she tried her best to look peaceful and unaware of his proximity.

"Rukia?" he whispered, seeing if she'd respond. His was curiously tender and Rukia took the moment to stir lightly as if only faintly hearing her name in a dream. A lock of her hair splayed elegantly over her eyes, which she was grateful for. He wouldn't be able to see her eyelids twitch with consciousness.

"Cheh, baka," he said gently, pushing her hair out of her face. Rukia fought her body's reaction tooth and nail as the shock of the gesture sank into her system. Ichigo's hand froze above her skin, mere centimeters from the heat of her flesh. The moment was almost painful, the tension between their skin causing the small woman to bite her tongue with dread. She could almost feel her breath be pushed from her lungs as Ichigo withdrew his hand and shut the closet door softly.

Ichigo groaned and pried his eyes open as the sound of Rukia's phone berated his ears. Her voice echoed through his head and he distinctly felt the frantic pounding of feet around him, a Hollow's roar vibrating through the air. As the sounds faded, he stared at his pile of textbooks with disdain and was glad to note that it was only the second day of their spring vacation.

"Kuso," he whispered to himself, failing miserably at persuading his hand to reach up to his phone on the desk next to him. The cold of the room stung his cheeks a little and he buried himself deeper into the plush comforter and sheets. His eyes popped open again within a matter of seconds and he stared restlessly at the corner of his phone hanging teasingly from the edge of the desk. The sleek black chrome of its surface called to him like a digital siren, glinting evilly in the light of the moon.

His mind strayed as he stared at the small device. Perhaps it was late enough that he could just get up and go downstairs to watch the early morning news… The good thing about getting up so early was seeing the look on his dad's face when he would bust into Ichigo's room and find his son gone. The dialogue ensuing would usually consist of the rest of the family arguing about what he might be doing. Isshin, of course, would assume he was in a young woman's arms, spouting romantic prose under the moonlight until Karin dragged him downstairs to find Ichigo sitting lazily at the kitchen table, slurping his miso sou– ah, damn it all to hell.

Ichigo pulled his hand out into the crisp air and let it slump down on the top of the desk, dragging his phone down to the mattress. The light of the phone felt like being met with a very small tazer to the face. He mumbled a couple swears as he shut his phone and sat up, letting the cold beat against his bare chest. He raised his hand and scratched the back of his head. His hair felt like duck fuzz without his usual amount of gel and was matted against his neck and ear on one side, he noted with a tone of mental reprimand. He'd have to sleep on his other shoulder for a few nights to make sure his hair didn't mold to the side of his face. Then again, he wouldn't have even been awake to notice it yet if it hadn't been for that stupid dream.

"Damn that phone," he said, redirecting his anger. "It's three o'clock in the morning and I heard it in my head. I swear there's something wrong with me…" He continued to ramble incessantly, repeatedly putting blame on the shinigami way of life. All those dreams about Rukia were caused by the stress of killing Hollows. It didn't help that she always ordered him around and was practically the same height as Yuzu. He swore that if he wasn't so careful, he'd plow right over her one day. Just smack! and her face would be planted in the carpet for once. A smile pulled at the sides of his mouth and he quickly wiped it away along with the vision of Rukia's pouting face, her expression twisted up with the realization that fighting her height was futile. Her pride was what made fights like that so much fu–

Ichigo whipped the blankets off his form and stood, pacing the room, mumbling angrily about small things in his life, trying desperately to think about something other than his ties to Soul Society. Including Rukia.

…

It was hopeless. Nothing was coming to mind. His entire life had been integrated into Soul Society and the people involved in that world. He wasn't sure how or when, but his life had been permanently welded to both planes, melting the boundaries between life and death. His perception of what it meant to live had strayed into the realm of the dead. The girl living in his closet was technically dead. He had eaten dead people's food…

…

"That can't be healthy," Ichigo whispered to himself as he continued to pace his carpet like a lion eager to get out of its cage. As soon as he realized he was mindlessly walking in circles, he stopped himself and sat back down on the edge of his bed, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

A soft, white sheen in the darkness caught his eye and his gaze strayed to the bottom drawer of his desk. His heart skipped a beat as he stared at the small amount of kimono cloth. Rukia could have seen it peeking out from within his drawer and discovered it already. His lips parted slightly, Ichigo blinked several times with disbelief. How could he be that stupid?

A squeak caught his attention and he whipped his head in the direction of the closet. His heart was thudding in his chest like a piece of thick, heavy lead. Rukia was awake, he was sure of it, but her serene expression made him doubt himself. The crack in the closet door was just wide enough that at the angle he was sitting he could see her cheek illuminated by the silver of the night's glow. She looked like a porcelain doll, lying so still and peaceful.

Ichigo swallowed a small lump in his throat and stood with a catlike stealth. Approaching the closet, he could almost feel himself fidgeting. He had never seen her sleeping before and was surprised at how fragile she looked. So small and delicate. He brushed away the thought with a mental snort. It was a wonder she was able to become a shinigami at all.

As the closet door slid open, he looked down at her face and small hands. She was clutching the comforter draped over her form and had curled her legs tightly against her body. He could see that space in the closet was limited and she had to curl up to fit, but a fleeting thought passed through Ichigo's head that perhaps she was cold. He would make sure she got another blanket in the morning.

"Rukia?" he whispered. If she was asleep, he didn't want to wake her. It would be embarrassing for him if she caught him watching her sleep. Maybe she had just had a bad dream. His heart skipped as she snuggled her cheek farther into the pillow, her shoulders rising with a content sigh. He felt awkward standing there. Whenever he imagined Rukia, he thought of her kicking and screaming. This was a side of Rukia he almost wished would be around more often.

As she nuzzled the pillow, her long, choppy bangs draped over her face with an elegance Ichigo was surprised to associate with the small, rambunctious woman. A grin pulled at one side of his lips and he brushed her hair out of her face. He hesitated as the heat and silk of her skin made his fingertips tingle. Forcing his face to contort into a scowl he turned his eyes away.

"Cheh, baka," he murmured, trying to harden his expression. His fingers lingered on her forehead for a few moments, his stomach twisting with an almost painful surge of adrenaline. His cheeks turned a bright red as he withdrew his hand and slid the closet door shut. As he padded back over to his bed he gently pushed the kimono cloth back into his drawer and shut it securely. Settling himself under the sheets, he watched the closet door, almost imagining Rukia's shoulders rising with her breath as she slept. He was secretly glad that she seemed to have good dreams that night. At least one of them had been able to sleep well.

A/N: …Okay so I fooled you. It was romantic kinda sorta…ish. But wait until you see what Ichigo has in store for Rukia tomorrow. Hehe, it'll be fun! Don't worry, I'm on a roll, so it'll be up within the next few hours.

Cultural Notes for you guys who like'em!

Kuso – it literally means 'shit' or 'damnit.' It's one of those generic swear words that you wouldn't really get in trouble for saying in Japan. Fun little thing to know: Hanakuso means booger (snicker). Hana is nose and well, you already know what kuso means!

The spring vacation in Japan is roughly two weeks long between the time when they change years in school (like our summer break) and is the middle of March. Their summer break is in the middle of the school year (July to August, one month). Golden Week (their spring break) is practically a national holiday in which many people get the week off from work as well. It's in April I believe, but I'm horrible with dates.