Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.
The third night, Rukia was standing by the window; she did not want to be caught helpless in bed once again. She was in her soul form; gigai "sleeping" peacefully on the bed: she was prepared this time, and occupied herself with looking out the window. She knew there was nothing she could do - how could she, it was in Ichigo's body - yet Sode no Shirayuki still hung at her waist, a comforting weight. She felt the reiatsu ooze into the room once again, sharp edges scraping against her awareness, and steeled herself: last night had been overwhelming, and Rukia was not sure she could handle it again.
A hand clamped itself around the hair at the back of her head; her neck was wrenched back, face forcibly upturned to meet inverse eyes made intense with rage. She wondered at its anger, but it had already thrown her over its shoulder and leapt nimbly out the window, pulling itself up to the roof. Rukia is dizzied - how did it move so fast still embodied? - but jolted out of it as it fairly threw her down to the roof, crouching over her, pinning her facedown as it snarled in her ear.
"Soul form? You dare - you bitch," its breath was hot in her ear, Ichigo's hands at her waist and shoulder burning with heat, "I should break your sword for this. Do you know how tempting it is for me, just like this? I could devour you and you would be helpless to stop me!"
Rukia's racing heart stopped for a moment; she tried to dismiss the sudden, paralyzing fear, along with the heat that had been spreading through her body from where Ichigo's hands were making contact with her skin through the material of her robes.
"But I can't," it hissed in disgust, "because it would wake him up, and then the game would really be over."
Rukia, once again, wondered at the hollow's motives for the late-night chats with her; what "game" could it possibly be playing? Her thoughts were interrupted as she felt it wrap Ichigo's hand around Sode no Shirayuki.
"Don't touch her!" It was Rukia's turn to growl; she struggled against its restraining hands, managing to get to her knees, but it had unhooked the sheath and danced away from her.
"Make me stop," it taunted and, with a smooth motion, unsheathed Shirayuki, the white blade glistening in the moonlight. "Beautiful," it murmured, eyes flicking from the sword to Rukia and back. Rukia, appalled, stalked forwards, intent on snatching her zanpakutou, but stumbled to a halt as the hollow, openmouthed, dragged Ichigo's tongue up the length of the blade.
"She tastes almost as good as you smell," it said, giving Rukia a smug grin; for her part, Rukia was concentrating on keeping her knees from buckling: the motion had twanged something in her soul, sending it shivering uncomfortably within her, vibrating violently all down her spine and into her gut. She clenched her eyes shut and willed her body into stillness, afraid that the shuddering inside her would throw her off balance, sending her tumbling off the roof.
"Having troubles, Rukia-chan?" She could hear the harsh amusement in its voice, and fell to her knees as the cord within her was plucked once again, wrongness shaking through her central nervous system. She felt its nearness; opening her eyes, she saw it crouching before her, eyebrows shot up in wide-eyed glee, Shirayuki's edge held between lips curved into a demonic smile.
"Bastard," she ground out, reaching desperately for the blade. An intense shudder rang through her like the vibrations of a bell; the hollow took Shirayuki from Ichigo's mouth, softly, gently, and laid her across Ichigo's bent knees. A small smear of blood marred the white steel; a matching smear remained on Ichigo's mouth as the hollow licked its lips.
"She bit me," it said conversationally. "I was being gentle, just having some fun, and she sliced my tongue. But I expected no less," it caressed Rukia's furious face with Ichigo's hand. Rukia seized the hand in her own, eyes murderous, fingers like a vise.
"Give her back," she snarled into its face. "You're crossing the line."
The hollow winced and shoved Shiryuki, hilt-first, at Rukia, who dropped Ichigo's hand to take the sword. As soon as her hand closed around the hilt, she breathed a sigh of relief: the twanging within her ceased, and she drew an even breath.
"And the sheath." Her voice was hard. The hollow sighed, and handed it back. She snatched the sheath out of its grip, wiped Shirayuki clean and slid her home, then reattached her zanpakutou to the sash at her waist, muttering as she did so. "The fact that you stand here before me like this is crossing the line. I don't know why-"
"I told you," it said, cutting off her mutinous words, "I have more of a right to be in this body than Ichigo ever will. If Zangetsu ever threw his lot in with me, Ichigo would be gone for good. The daft old man plays at being neutral, but he favours the king, and I know it." It stood up, and Rukia let it put Ichigo's hand on her shoulder to bring her up with it. "You should give up on him, Rukia," it said, bending Ichigo's head toward her, orange hair strangely silvered by the light of the moon. "I'm stronger, I'm smarter, I'm more fun than he will ever be."
Rukia gritted her teeth against the irratating boasts, but did nothing; standing this near to Ichigo, directly in front of him, Ichigo's hand resting lightly on her shoulder, all served to reinforce the several feet of height difference between them. She was feeling very rageful, but very, very small - which only served to further feed her rage.
The hollow bent down curiously. "You're angry, Rukia-chan," it observed, its voice dancing with suppressed mirth. "Did I do something wrong?" It leaned even further, almost bent double, clearly aware of what was enraging the petite shinigami in front of it.
"You insufferable -" Rukia kicked it in the shin. Instead of hopping around in pain and anger, however, the hollow hissed, straightened, and tightened its grip on her shoulder. Rukia cursed inwardly at her own spontaneity, even as her eyes widened in shock.
"I'm not Ichigo," it said, fingers digging in cruelly, and Rukia made a muffled noise of pain as it found a pressure point. It straightened up, dragging her closer to it as it did so, until she was standing nearly toe-to-toe with it. "Don't you ever forget that I'm not Ichigo," it said again, giving her a small shake, and Rukia tried to understand the strange undercurrent in its tone of voice, but gave up in favour of being seriously alarmed as it put its other hand on her hip.
"What are you doing?" She hissed at it, attempting to flinch away. "Get your hands off of me, hollow!"
Its face turned dark, but eased its grip on her shoulder; Rukia felt the aftershocks of pain quivering through her muscles and winced. Its hand on her waist was warm.
"Is this better?" It asked, and Rukia's eyes snapped to its face, hopelessly confused by the swift change of tone.
"What do you want?" She asked it in return, half-despairingly. "You've proven that you're not Ichigo, and I understand that. What else do you want from me?"
It did not answer her right away, its face looking curiously bare without the constant grin or angry frown. "I am different," it said finally. "Different not just from Ichigo, but from every other hollow out there. You need to see that. You need to understand that I'm not just a beast, something that can be killed off without a second thought." It looked more like Ichigo than ever, now, with the same slightly defiant frown on its face, with only the inverse eyes and distorted voice giving it away. "If you sliced through my mask, what would happen to me? The original soul that gave me life remains a whole, uncorrupted spirit; would I disappear?"
Rukia shifted uncomfortably; its grip was getting tighter as it began to speak more intensely, but it didn't seem to notice and carried on, black eyes boring in to her own. "Ichigo's never thought of me as someone in my own right; for all his moralizing bullshit, he can't deal in shades of grey. He'd probably try and hit a baby with that zanpakutou of his if he suspected it was a hollow." It snorted as Rukia shook her head in disagreement.
"You're wrong about him," she said quietly. "Ichigo tries to do what's right, and -"
"And what? So he gets to be the good guy? The guy who keeps me as a slave, not letting me out, not letting me have my own free will, keeping me caged away?" Rukia's shoulder was on fire; her hip ached, and her skin under its hands was burning, the warmth spreading to suffuse her entire body. The hollow was staring down at her; the ever-present smile was back, but twisted into a look of defiance. "Bullshit! I have every right to this body! I'm not a monster, any more than he is!"
Ah, thought Rukia, looking into the hungry eyes. She was beginning to understand now. Painfully, she raised her hand and placed it on Ichigo's arm; surprise registered in its eyes, and it let go of her, stepping back. She realized that it was the first time she had touched it of her own volition, without intent to harm.
Curious, she advanced, closing the gap between them once again. It regarded her silently as she reached out, hesitated, and then pressed her palm to the cool skin of its cheek. It jerked back slightly, almost reflexively, then relaxed into her touch. Slowly, it brought Ichigo's hand up to cover hers. Rukia let out a breath that she hadn't known she'd been holding.
"I-"
It cut her off with a kiss, mouth searing over hers, hard and soft and more sensual than anything she'd ever felt. It only lasted a moment, however; it drew back with a faint smile on its face as Rukia's breath hitched in her chest.
"Don't look at me like that, Rukia-chan," its voice was throaty, promising. "I might not be able to resist the temptation of really tasting you next time, and then Ichigo would wake up, and then where would we be?" It remained holding her hand loosely in Ichigo's much larger one, no longer against its cheek but between them, a connecting line running between hollow and shinigami.
Rukia stared at it, at a loss for words as thoughts and emotions warred within her. She'd kissed it (a hollow), responded to Ichigo's lips (controlled by a hollow); it wanted to kill her (but no, it had mentioned several times it would spare her), it was an aberration, a usurper (but it had made her feel something she hadn't in a long time, not since)...
"Rukia-chan..." It tilted her chin up with the long fingers of its other hand, bending over her just slightly, its eyes dark with hunger.
"Don't." She whispered, confused, half-hearted, unsure.
"You'll help me, Rukia-chan," it continued, lacing its words with a cocky smile. "You know what I am now. Together, we can -"
"Wait." Rukia interrupted it, several things becoming crystal clear at that moment. She let go of its hand, brushed its other off her shoulder. "You don't actually think I would side with you against Ichigo?"
Its brows knitted, and Rukia took a few steps backward, shaking her head slowly. "You can't pull me in that easily; my loyalty can't be bought with lies and kisses...You're wrong if you think I'll betray my friendship for...for that."
Its expression on Ichigo's face is thunderous; its teeth are bared, and not in a grin. "And here I was trying to do it the easy way," it growled. "It would have been so much more fun, Rukia-chan. But you can't run from me, and you can't hide: you'll side with me whether you like it or not."
Rukia's eyes narrowed. "Never," she spat, hand on hilt. "I'll transfer back to Soul Society first."
"You'll side with me," it said, voice dark, "because if you don't, I'll tear the little girls to shreds. It'd be worth it to have Ichigo wake up in the middle of it, let him see the carnage, let him know that it was your fault..."
"Monster," she hissed at it; it flew at her, rage on its face, and she had Sode no Shirayuki at its throat even as it fisted Ichigo's hands in her hair.
"Go ahead then," it sneered, keeping a constant pull on her hair, cruelly tugging at the smaller, individual ones at the back of her neck. "I'm a monster, so kill me now, righteous shinigami! Afraid you'll take Ichigo as well? A truly moral person would be able to see past the costs of killing me, and know it was the right thing to do! Do it, shinigami!"
The ghost of Kaien danced through Rukia's mind, leaving trails of misery and regret, the lingering scent of rain, damp forest, spilled blood. She turned Sode no Shirayuki; now the flat pressed against Ichigo's windpipe, merely a barrier against which a monster could push and overcome, against which a friend could fall and rise again.
It snarled, pleased, and bruised her lips, pulled her hair, whispered threats and promises into her ears; she ignored it, tried not to respond, stood frozen, the image of Kaien burned on to the walls of her mind.
She had closed her eyes against the tears, but they flew open as she felt it wrap Ichigo's hand around her hand on Shirayuki's hilt. "Sheathe your sword, shinigami," it told her. "We're going inside."
Rukia did as it asked, numbly, and did not protest as it scooped her up into its arms and clambered back into the girls' room. Striding across the floor, it deposited her on the bed, pinning her with hands and gaze alike.
"Remember, Rukia-chan, not a word to anyone. From this day on, you're on my side -" its eyes flicked to Karin and Yuzu before focussing back on Rukia - "and I don't think I need to say anything else. Oh, and I don't ever want to see that zanpakutou again."
It walked out of the room grinning. Rukia slipped into her gigai, feeling the bruises manifest themselves on flesh, and told herself she wouldn't cry.