This came to me while I was going through my sisters' pictures, trying to find one of me they took for blackmail a few years back. I didn't find it, but I did write this!

This is supposed to be placed when Ichigo left to train with the Vizard. Manga readers only will know about, it but it has NO spoilers, so ALL can read! (pokes).

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or the characters.

Three Words

"Aww! How cute!"

The loud, bubbly outburst, and from Rukia, no less had Renji running over to see what she was oogling about. When he dropped onto the ground right outside of Ichigo's closet and stared at the photograph in her hand, he expected anything, anything, except this. In her hands was a small, color picture of a beautiful woman holding a small baby.

A carrot-topped baby.

Said baby was appearently screaming, loudly in the picture because the man standing behind he woman was holding his ears, tears streaming down his face. It was Isshin; no big surprise there.

"Geez . . . is that Ichigo?" Renji asked, taking the picture out of her hands and turning it upside down, as if that would somehow show him some hidden secret within. Rukia snorted, something he didn't think she was capable of, and took the picture back, sticking in the now empty shoe box as she looked at the next picture of the large stack in her hands.

"Is he naked?"

That was the only comment the next picture recieved. Renji fell on the floor, roaring with laughter, as Rukia blushed a deeper shade of red than an apple and stuck the picture hurridely back into the box. The next one was of Ichigo sucking his feet. He was dressed in a bunny costume ("Awww! He's so cute!" Rukia squealed), his hair was a mess and he looked like he had just woken up.

Now, that would make wonderful blackmail within the Soul Society. The Orange-haired Shinigami with a sword as big as he was tall . . . sucking his feet.

Renji said such, and earned a slap from Rukia as she tucked the picture inside her pocket. The next picture was Ichigo sleeping; he had drool sliding down his face.

"I wonder how old he was here," Rukia mused, turning the picture around to see careful handwriting that clearly said "Ichigo Kurosaki. Three months old. Date: 1-10-1990"

"What's the next one?" Renji asked, reaching over to move the picture out of her hands to see the one under it. They both burst out laughing when they saw it. In the picture, Ichigo was naked in the bath, though covered in bubbles, and was appearently pissed. He was waving his hands wildely and was showering the whole room in bubbles. His mother, Masaki, was shielding her face while still holding his small body up in the water.

"That's cute. He still looks the same. But he's bigger now. . ." Renji said, raising an eyebrow. He reached over and took the picture off of the top, gasping when he saw the next one. He quickly removed it from Rukia's sight and flipped it over. On the back, all it said was "1-15-1991 — Baby Ichigo just found out he was a boy".

"Lemme see it," Rukia whined, trying to peek under the picture. Renji shook his head, laying it flat down on the floor. Rukia pretended to give up, but the second that his hand left the picture, Rukia lunged for it and grabbed it, sticking her foot in Renji's face as she stared at the picture.

Gaping like a fish.

Ichigo had, indeed, found out he was a boy. He was sitting up on his own, completely naked, playing with his . . . erm . . . Boy parts.

Rukia blushed and shoved it away, sticking it inside the shoebox without another work.

Renji was roaring with laughter again.

"Told you not to look at it."

"Shut up!" Rukia snapped, her face still completely red as she hurridely looked at the next picture. It was of Ichigo, a little older, standing up, holding onto his mother's skirt. It was the first time he was walking, the back of the picture said, and he had the most adorable look on his face as he tried to put one foot in front of the other. Rukia smiled, the blush leaving her face as she let her fingers linger over the picture for a second before putting it, too, inside the shoebox.

"Next," Renji said, moving her hand out of the way to see the picture.

He smiled at it, too. Ichigo was probably about one and a half in the picture and he was sitting inside a small, retractable plastic ball. It was for babies to play around in, but Ichigo was crying his eyes out, his hands grabbing the plastic as he tried to climb out. He was wearing a white T-shirt under jean overalls and his tiny feet were bare.

"That's so cute," Rukia said, placing the picture gently inside with the others. The next picture, of which there were five left, surprised both of them. Rukia gasped quietly and Renji raised his eyebrows, reaching out to grab the picture. Rukia held it back, though, her eyes glued to it.

"I thought . . ."

Her hand lingered over the picture as she stared at it. Renji's mouth was dry.

It was a picture that hadn't been taken years and years ago; it was of Ichigo and Rukia, not long ago, actually. They were standing on the beach, Ichigo wearing black swimming shorts with flames climbing up the sides, and Rukia in a rather reveiling, sky blue bikini. She was leaning backwards on him while he had his arms wrapped around her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder. He was smiling like an idiot and she was blushing slightly, but her hand rested over his on her stomach. The background was just of the still, calm water gently lapping the shore.

"I-I . . . I thought that I lost this . . ." Rukia said gently, the picture still grasped tightly in her hand. Renji's mouth was hanging open as he stared at the picture, which had prefectly mirrored a tender moment in Ichigo and Rukia's relationship.

Under the first picture was a second; it was of Rukia sitting in Ichigo's lap in the park. The wind had been blowing when the picture was taken because Rukia's thin, pink dress was blowing in the wind, as was her hair. Ichigo was leaning forward, his hands crossed in front of her, resting in her lap and his chin was resting on her shoulder again.

The third was of then in the kicthen, having been helping Yuzu make cookies, but they had gotten into a flour fight, or something because they were both covered in flour, but they were laughing and smiling happily.

The forth was them sleeping. It was simple. Ichigo was only wearing pajama pants and Rukia was dressed in her new pink pajamas with strawberries on them.

The fifth was what surprised Renji so much that he reached over and ripped it out of Rukia's grasp.

It was Ichigo and Rukia, standing inside one of the flowing fountains in the park. They were both soaked. The water was falling down on their heads, but appearently they didn't care because Ichigo had his hands pressed firmly to Rukia's waist and she had her hands tangled in his hair as they kissed deeply.

When his grip on the picture loosened, Rukia took it back, tenderly fingering the small rip that Renji had created on the edge of the picture. She turned it around and her violet eyes scanned the words on the back of the picture quickly. They were sloppy and fastly written in Ichigo's handwriting.

"I love her."

The three simple words brought tears to Rukia's eyes. She held the picture to her chest as she closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry.

"I remember that," she began, the tears still threatening to come, anyway. "He tripped and fell into the water, and when I laughed at him, he pulled me in with him. I guess we landed wrong, because the next thing I knew he was kissing me. I guess . . . I guess he just didn't want to tell me how he felt . . . because he never told me . . . But now he's gone again. I-I . . . I want him to come home . . ."

Home . . .

The tears fell from her eyes and she clutched the picture to her chest. Dropping everything else, she stood to her feet and ran out of the room, her sobs echoing through the halls.

Renji stood, too, putting everything back inside the box except the pictures of Ichigo and Rukia; He set those down on her bed in the closet.

"Ichigo . . . you idiot. You had better come back. I swear . . . if you hurt her anymore . . . I'll kill you," he whispered, really to no one, but his voice drifted out the window and into the windy, beautiful Autumn day. "Come back. Come back . . . and tell her you love her."

Three simple words had broken a perfect moment between friends. Three simple words had made a strong girl cry, and three simple words had changed her world.

. . . I love her . . .

Hmm . . . well, that sucked.

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