"So you had a chance to meet up with this 'Ben-Ten' and you didn't do anything about it?" Urahara spoke in his annoying singsong voice, just to mock him.

"That's not it," Renji argued his way through the conversation, "I didn't even know she was there. Arisawa was the only one who saw the girl."

"Hmm, so what you're saying is that Ichigo, Kuchiki-san, and Arisawa-san could see this girl, but you—a Vice-Captain—couldn't?" Urahara twirled his cane around. He was enjoying this way too much.

Renji growled and grabbed Urahara by his collar, the shop keeper's green and white hat falling off in the process. "That's not what happened."

Urahara looked down where his hat had fallen with a pout. "Aww, you got it dirty," he whined to Renji. In the time Renji blinked, Urahara had moved behind him, the butt of his cane lightly pushing against the base of Renji's neck. He felt a drop of sweat form on his forehead as he held Urahara's empty robe in front of him.

"Now you should know better than to rough up the one who's feeding you and giving you a roof over your head." Urahara grinned like a fox catching its prey. "Just for that, you're working the booth at the Tanabata festival." He picked up his fingers to indicate numbers, "All three days. Have fun selling Chappy the Rabbit items."

Renji simply banged his head against the doorway, hoping it would render him into a coma.

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It had been days since Rukia so much as looked in Ichigo's direction and he couldn't figure out what she was so upset about. He supposed it was some girl problem and whatever it was, it was his fault. But deep down, he knew it was something he said that night. He racked his brain trying to figure out what it was.

Did he offend her? She knew how to take a joke, right? She did hit me after all…But then he said something else before she stormed off…something about why would he ever want to look at her…

Ichigo closed his eyes at the revelation.

Oh. Crap.

It was a lie, just to cover his ass. Why else had he spent days trying to figure out what was bothering her? Why would he even care?

Because he did care. Because he had started to see her in that way. She was no longer Kuchiki Rukia, Shinigami. She was Rukia: his closest friend, confidant, and the only woman who could stand on his level. The only woman, he repeated to himself.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Ichigo smacked himself in the head. He had blatantly insulted her and didn't even realize it. He just hoped it wasn't too late for a sincere apology.

"We all know you are," the voice of Karin, Ichigo's younger, tomboyish sister said aloud. She stood with her hands on her hips, her dark eyes glaring at him.

"What do you want, Karin?" Ichigo was in no mood. He never raised his voice to either of his sisters, but he was teetering on the edge at this point.

"Listen up," Karin marched right up to him and stuck a finger in his face. "I don't know what you did to Kuchiki-san, but you better make it up to her."

"I thought you didn't like her," he retaliated.

"I don't, but…" Karin paused and pouted. "When you guys aren't talking or fighting or anything you're just not the same. You don't act like my brother." In truth, she respected Rukia. She was just upset that Rukia was taking her brother further and further away from her fragile family.

Ichigo swallowed his pride. For an 11-year-old, Karin had amazing insight.

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Ishida frowned at his drawings. Nothing could come out right and he couldn't put his finger on exactly why. In an attempt to distract him, he browsed through his phone for recent messages. He scrolled through the short list before stopping on a particular name.

"Inoue Orihime" the highlighted name read.

He gulped, his mouth suddenly dry. He laid his head in a hand and leaned against his desk. He had really screwed things up this time. She would never forgive him. His non-responsive actions answered her rhetorical questions—at least in her mind. She thought he saw her as weak, as someone who got in the way and always got herself hurt. That couldn't be further from the truth.

He leaned back in his chair and swiveled himself around slowly with his foot. Then something in the corner of his room caught his eye. A cloth roll of deep turquoise, aqua, and purple stared back at him. He had picked up the roll of the hand painted silk blend months ago on an impulse buy. The fabric was just too beautiful to pass up. It was full of graceful gradients and saturated colors, painted in a Southeast Asian style called Batik. The technique was a coveted form of drawing with hot wax, then letting the colored ink bleed together in a wonderful harmony.

He walked over to the fabric roll, feeling its coolness between his fingers. It was soft and light. Perfect. He wouldn't even need sketch paper for this design. It stood out in his mind practically screaming to get out. He began draping the fabric over a mannequin and knew exactly what measurements were needed.

This would be his masterpiece.

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Tatsuki made her way to the familiar store, shuffling her feet along the way. Something was going on in this town, and like it or not, she was involved. She walked up to the porch just in time to see Ichigo walking out with a bag. She froze and knew he was going to have questions.

"Tatsuki, what are you doing here?" Ichigo spotted his childhood friend.

Damn, think of something, quick!

"I, um, like the sweets they sell here." Ichigo didn't look like he believed her. "Orihime asked me to pick some up on the way to her place." There. That sounded more like a realistic answer. Ichigo shrugged. Whew, he bought it.

"Whatever," he casually waved. He knew Orihime had strange tastes in food, especially mixing sweets with normal dishes.

"You going to the Tanabata festival?" Tatsuki tried to make casual small talk.

"Maybe. Uh, listen, I gotta take care of something. Catch you later?" Ichigo held the plastic bag from his purchase in the shop close to him like it was precious.

"Later," Tatsuki waved. She continued her way into the weird shop. She had never really been in the here more than a few times before and fingered through the items in the small aisle. She didn't like lying to Ichigo, but she knew he would find out her secret if he knew the real reason why she was visiting the Shinigami shop.

"Arisawa, what are you doing here?" Renji cocked his head to the side, taking a break from sweeping the floor. In a weird way, he admired the human. Rukia looked like a fragile china doll to him, but Tatsuki looked like she could break a man in half with her eyes alone. Plus she could kick Ichigo's ass when it came to Karate. That gave points to her in any book.

"I called her," a voice came from the back. Urahara emerged in his usual manner, hat first. "Since you've been no help with our recent visitor, I had to get information from someone else." He grinned at the fiery redhead, whose face was so hot with anger its color matched his hair. He ignored the Vice-Captain and turned his attention to the teenage girl with short, spiky hair.

"Shall we?"

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