Disclaimer:I do not own Bleach or anything related to it; I just own my writing, and the poems Ichigo wrote.

The Tenth Muse

Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth

Than those old nine which rhymers invocate

--From Sonnet 38, William Shakespeare

It wasn't common for a calm day to visit the Kurosaki residence; Rukia saw it as a chance to give her brand new markers a testdrive, while Ichigo took it as an opportunity to hit the books, despite his partner's scolding to relax. ("Whaddaya want me to tell my teacher? 'M'am, a Menos Grande ate my homework'?")

Rukia had bounced atop his bed and settled to produce Chappy sketches with a vengeance. Late in the afternoon, she glanced at the corner of his desk, spotting a piece of scratch paper. She needed to try out different color combinations for her next set of drawings, and so grabbed it and the book it lay on for a hard surface, nudging her sketchpad out of the way. Engrossed as he was in his homework, Ichigo didn't notice.

Wielding a wonderfully new marker ("Strawberry Scarlet"), Rukia was ready to doodle—when she noticed some ink had bled through from the other side. Ichigo was tackling math at the moment; she absently flipped the paper over, expecting random busywork problems.

But no. Not numbers…words.

Her breath caught. Stock-still on the bed, her blue gaze slid over Ichigo, his back hunched over, still plowing through schoolwork, back to the surprise between her fingers:

Her figure sways with inborn grace;

Moon dims beside her cherished face;

Her eyes are windows to the sky

Of her bright soul, they mesmerize;

Skin warm like silk, hair dark like sin

With her in my arms I'd glad begin.

What the hell—? Did Ichigo…?

Yes, it was his handwriting alright. Besides the obvious question of what the hell was he doing composing this stuff….there was the matter of who this composition described.

A fantasy girl conjured by his imagination? Someone at school? The only females who popped into her head who had dark hair were Tatsuki Arisawa and Ryo Kunieda, the trackstar/bookworm. Ichigo didn't know Ryo all that well, and while Tatsuki was attractive in her own feisty, self-assured, spitfire and sass kind of way, Rukia couldn't see her being Ichigo Kurosaki's poetic muse.

"Her eyes are windows to the sky"…yes, there was the old saying "the eyes are the windows to the soul," but could there be another meaning? The sky is blue, so assuming she was on the right track, the Strawberry's muse was a dark-haired girl with blue—

"Rukia, what the hell?!"

She nearly jumped a foot at Ichigo's bark. The paper almost tore as it was whipped out of her hands. "Sorry, I thought it was scratch paper!" she snapped back.

"Well, get your own—" He yelped when Rukia flicked her index finger hard between his eyes and snatched the poem back.

"I didn't know you were such a poet," she drawled, that damn smirk playing on her mouth. "Wonder who the lucky girl could be? She must be something if she has you waxing on like Shakespeare."

"There is no girl, it doesn't mean anything!" he snarled, running a hand through his orange hair. If looks could kill, Rukia thought gleefully, that scowl would strike her dead. "It's just—you know—my English assignment—"

Ichigo grabbed the book still on Rukia's lap and waved it in her face.

"The Sonnets of William Shakespeare?"

"When I read his stuff, I get into the…rhythm of his words, the feeling," Ichigo explained awkwardly. He crossed his arms defensively. "And pretty soon I start rhyming crap in my head…and I just have to get it on paper, I can't control it. It doesn't mean anything," he repeated vehemently, "it's completely random."

Ichigo realized she wasn't smirking at him anymore, but staring down at the crumpled poem. "If it doesn't mean anything…can I keep it? I won't show it to anyone," she added hurriedly before he could protest. "It just seems a shame to throw beautiful words away."

He couldn't deny the midnight eyes boring into his. He averted his own gaze, hoping to whatever powers might be that he wasn't blushing. "It's junk, Rukia, sappy junk a two-year-old could surpass. I dunno what you see in it."

With an air of finality, she folded the paper and tucked it in her skirt pocket. "They're wonderful, Ichigo. They show a side of you I almost never get to see, Mr. Badass Shinigami," she teased, kicking him lightly as she moved off the bed.

"Besides…" Rukia turned back to grin at him. "Call me conceited, but I rather think your random, meaningless words describe me."

Ichigo froze.

"I'd like to get a poem like this from an admirer. Although I'm not sure about 'hair dark like sin.' Oddly sensual, yes," she pondered playfully, tapping her chin, "but I don't think I could drive anyone to sin if I were in his arms."

"You'd be surprised," Ichigo muttered softly. His voice had gone strangely rough. "I mean, you nearly drive me to murder sometimes, crazy midget-girl," he added quickly.

"You cut me, Ichigo," Rukia drawled, looking over her shoulder at him in that maddeningly teasing way, "you truly cut me." She clambered into her closet-turned-bedroom. Before closing the sliding door she paused, as if weighing the wisdom of what she wanted to say.

Ichigo leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow expectantly. "You wanna say something?"

"Yeah…" Rukia cocked her head. "Keep composing, Ichigo. I'm sure whoever your muse is would be flattered."

And the door shut.

Ichigo sat frozen in his seat, staring at the closet.

Blushing.

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Over the next few days, Rukia noticed Ichigo spent an awful lot of time at his desk. Of course, there were unavoidable distractions, such as having school to attend, Hollows to dispatch, and dinner with his family. But moments where he would normally be reading a book, strumming on his guitar, or (his most consuming pastime) bickering with her, he would instead finish off his homework in record time and spend the rest of the night hypnotized. That is, he would sit at the desk and stare out his window with a far-off look on his face. Then, after several minutes of stillness, he'd tear his gaze away and scribble something on a paper tablet on the desk. The pattern repeated again…and again…until Rukia absolutely had to know what the hell he was writing.

And of course Ichigo had to be such a pain. No matter how sneaky she was, she could never manage to sneak a peek at his writing. She was silent as a mouse, but he always sensed when she was behind him, and quickly covered his paper. He tore out the pages and tucked them in his pocket when he left his room. He even locked them in his desk drawer when he went to sleep.

And when he woke up in the middle of the night to the sounds of Rukia attempting to pick the lock with a paperclip, he merely glared, retrieved the paper, and defiantly stuffed them down the sweatpants he'd worn to bed.

She made no further attempt to steal them.

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Finally—after four solid days of searching for the perfect opportunity—Ichigo finally tripped up.

They were called out to handle a couple Hollows; after promptly cutting them down, Ichigo said, "Hey, you can head back, Rukia. I'm going over to the Urahara Shoten, I need to ask him about sedatives."

"For what?"

"Kon."

"Ah."

Kon was still in very hot water with the both of them; after Rukia woke up one morning to find the mod soul using her chest as his pillow, he had been slammed out of the closet by his 'Nee-san', flung out the window by (an extremely pissed) Ichigo, and summarily exiled to Yuzu and Karin's room for an indeterminate amount of time. Needless to say, Yuzu had been thrilled to find that her adorable stuffed teddy 'Bostoff' had reappeared, and took out all the adorable dresses and bonnets she'd made for him…

Rukia hopped back into Ichigo's bedroom window—and her eye caught site of an open folder on his desk, full of the papers he'd left in his rush to go after the Hollows.

Hot. Damn.

She bounded off the bed, across the floor, and dove into the closet and her prone gigai. She stuttered to a halt before the desk and stared at the various and slightly crumpled papers in the folder.

Now, to see what our little Shakespeare Junior is composing…

Rukia plucked up a sheet. Most of it was covered with lines of print that had been messily crossed out. She saw towards the bottom what he must have finally settled on as his final product:

You could shake me

You could break me

You could take me

For a fool and be right

For when it comes to you,

I'll be the court fool,

The high king,

Or your knight.

"And Ichigo Kurosaki's muse strikes again," Rukia breathed. "By the gods, that's sappy."

By the gods, that's beautiful.

She laid the paper aside and reached for the next. Again, Ichigo must have drained a pen of it's lifeblood—what he had been trying to write had been revised repeatedly with plenty of ink, leaving another surprisingly short final draft:

She does not walk in beauty, like the night

She is beauty, and the night

With stars and planets

Cannot begin to compare

Or to complement

The moon.

And like the moon

And like the night

She is there

And I cannot touch her

But I need to

No wonder he'd never let her look at these. She was flushing at the mere thought of Ichigo writing these to some nameless, faceless benefactress of his inspiration. These were such personal writings, but her hands kept reaching for paper after paper, wanting more.

Take your hand and place it on my chest

And listen to the drum within.

When the drum is silenced

That's when I'll stop needing you.

Maybe.

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Ichigo balanced on the air outside his house and leaned against his window to look within at the scene he'd set up. It was amazing how easily she bought his story of going to the shoten. He kept silent, his eyes traveling over Rukia's face, taking in the flushed cheeks and wide eyes and the way her mouth had parted slightly in her surprise and longing.

He wanted to leap into the room and give her even more to blush about—but firmly reigned himself in. That was a surefire way to break the spell he had cast on her.

He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. He jumped up to the roof, making sure he made a loud thump.

"Oi, Rukia, I'm back!"

Ichigo couldn't help but grin as he heard her muffle a shriek and scramble away from his desk. He swung into his room and ambled over to his body propped up against the wall.

"Urahara said it'd be unethical to give Kon sedatives," he said as he slipped back into his body, "so I guess we're outta luck."

His partner, trying to act nonchalant, was sitting in her closet with a manga in hand.

"W-wow, hell of a time for him to grow a conscience, huh?"

"No kidding." Ichigo smiled, taking in her still reddened cheeks.

"What?"

Ichigo slowly prowled over to her. Her eyes narrowed as he slowly bent his face near hers, that smirk still on his face.

He reached out, tugged away her book, flipped it, and gave it back.

"You're not supposed to read the book upside down, Rukia."

And all she could do was stare.

Ichigo turned away, still smiling.

He would leave her in the dark about just who his muse was for just a little longer. Just until Rukia inspired the perfect poem that would give him the confidence to reveal that it was her all along.

She was the one who could inspire him to sin without a thought.

She was the tenth muse; his muse.

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Sheherazade's Blah Blah Blah

Thank you for reading this. I hoped you enjoyed it! Please review; no matter how short, they're always a joy to read!

All the oneshots in this series are unconnected, unless specifically stated. In this case, The Tenth Muse and the next oneshot, Natural Disaster, are connected—so I guess that makes this a twoshot.

Just incase anyone's wondering, Ichigo only put the papers inside his sweatpants, not his underwear. blush I don't think Rukia would be bold enough to try and rummage through his pants as he slept, that's why he did it.

I wrote "Ichigo's" poems; I hope they weren't cheesy or anything. And if anyone thinks they're stuff Ichigo would never say, I agree; but that doesn't mean he doesn't think them. Ichigo's very academically smart, and I think (at least in his thoughts) he's quite articulate.

And about the previous shot, The Lighthouse's Tale: I'm wondering if there is some confusion with the end of that. When Orihime thinks that they have to tell Ichigo and Rukia in Soul Society about the news, she means they should go visit their graves in Seireitei, not that they died and are still living in Soul Society. I'll go back and edit that last bit, to make sure confusion is avoided.

Thank you everyone who reviewed Lullabies and Lighthouse! Also, please take a look at my other yarns, The Juunishi Host Club and Children of Clow (which I need to plan out the rest of the storyline for, but I swear that will get updated) and please look forward to the second part of the two shot, Natural Disaster, which should be finished shortly!