Thanks for reading! :) I promised fast updates, so here's chapter 3.
"Kurosaki Ichigo, this is the fourth time in two weeks that you did not complete your homework," Ochi Misato said sternly at she stared at the lanky orange-haired boy standing in front of her. "Do you have an explanation?"
Ichigo stared back blankly, but remained silent.
Misato was so taken aback by the boy's reaction—or rather, lack thereof—that she became speechless for a few seconds. It was so unlike Ichigo to underperform like this in her class. The boy had always carried an odd aura around him; he tended to keep to himself in class, but he was a good student. He could be hotheaded sometimes, but she'd seen him treat his classmates with kindness and respect. She liked him.
The teenager standing in front of her now was not the Ichigo she knew. This boy was eerily quiet, expressionless, and seemed—if she had to pick one word to describe him—lifeless.
Misato's eyes softened. She had no idea what was wrong with Ichigo, but something must've happened to him. She was his teacher, but was by no means close to the boy. Clearing her throat, she said cooly, "Given your past record, I will overlook this for now. I'll give you a chance to complete these assignments. I want them back on my desk, done, in two days."
Ichigo nodded woodenly, then returned to his seat. Misato caught Inoue Orihime looking at the boy with concerned eyes as he walked past her, and made a mental note to talk to the girl after class. She knew that Orihime was one of the few students in the class who was close to Ichigo. Perhaps she could ask the girl what the problem was, or ask the girl to talk to Ichigo. With a quiet sigh, she straightened up, put on her usual cheery face, and continued with the lesson.
"No, I don't know what happened to him," Rukia said solemnly, giving Orihime a sad look.
Orihime bit her lower lip in disappointment. Of course she had noticed Ichigo's recent unusual behavior, so when Ochi-sensei asked her about Ichigo, she was not surprised. She was sad, however, that she couldn't explain what was wrong with her friend.
Desperate and worried, she turned to Rukia, certain that the shinigami would know. After all, Rukia lived with Ichigo, surely she would have some information?
"I've asked him, over and over again," Rukia continued. "I even locked him in the room and threatened to keep him locked in there if he didn't tell me what's wrong, but all he did was stay in there quietly until I gave up." She looked helplessly at Orihime. "I don't know what to do."
Orihime chewed the inside of her cheeks. "Do you think he's worried about Aizen?" she asked. She knew it was unlikely—nothing had happened recently that would've changed their situation compared to two weeks ago.
Rukia shook her head. "He would've talked to me or Renji if it was something like this, or even Urahara-san. But he didn't, I've asked the man."
"What about Abarai-kun? Do you think he knows what's wrong?" Orihime asked, suddenly perking up at the mention of the redhead's name.
"You know, that's the other weird thing," Rukia said, tapping a finger on her chin thoughtfully. "I hardly see Renji nowadays. He always seemed to be busy with something whenever I look for him, training at Urahara's, on patrol, even sleeping."
Orihime gasped. "Do you think it's related?"
Rukia frowned as she pondered the question, then she clenched her jaw in determination. "You know what," she said to Orihime. "I'll go find Renji again today, even if I have to stay up all night at Urahara Shoten. I'm sure he knows something. I think you're right, they're related somehow, I can smell it."
Ichigo threw himself onto his bed. For a minute he just lay on his back and stared numbly at the ceiling. He didn't realize that he had been so obvious. Of course he knew that Rukia and the others had already noticed, but he didn't expect his teacher to see it too. He really needed to work harder at controlling his emotions. The last thing he wanted was more people prodding him for information, he had had enough trouble dealing with Rukia's questions. At least she had learned to stop asking now.
He sighed and rolled to his side. Grabbing the corners of his pillow, he buried his face in it.
He had wanted so much to run up to Renji that day, to ask his friend to stay at his side, to apologize and beg for forgiveness. But he controlled himself and forced his body to remain seated. His eyes followed Renji, though. He knew Renji was as heartbroken as he was, perhaps more so, but the man's back was straight, head held high, footsteps steady. He almost reached out to touch the receding figure, wanting so much to trace the jagged pattern of the man's tattoos that extend all the way down his back, to feel the toned abdomen and chest under his fingers. He could almost feel Renji's breath against his neck and Renji's wet kisses down the side of his face, his jaw, his neck...
In fact, as he sat at the riverbank that day, the wetness had felt so real that Ichigo subconsciously reached up to touch his own face. Only then did he realize that he was crying.
Ichigo's shoulders shook as he clung to his pillow, the pain from the memory still fresh. His body had curled up in a ball on its own accord, a subconscious act of self protection. Every day for the past two weeks, that last conversation with Renji came back to haunt him. And every day, he told himself that it was for Renji's own good.
By the time Ichigo finally drifted off into restless slumber, the pillowcase was completely soaked.
"Kuchiki-san," Urahara Kisuke said with a sigh. "I know you are concerned about your friend, but—"
"Friends," Rukia corrected harshly, her patience stretched thin by the overly-cheerful shopkeeper. She had gone to the shop after school, and, upon hearing that Renji was once again unavailable, planted herself in front of Renji's room, determined to remain there until the redhead came back to sleep that night.
Yet, Urahara kept pestering her, giving her all sorts of excuses to persuade her to leave. It was almost like the man was hiding Renji from her. Her eyebrow twitched at the thought; perhaps that was exactly what he was doing.
"You know something," she said fiercely, glaring at the blond-haired man.
Urahara sighed again. He looked into the bright violet eyes of the black-haired girl and knew that he would not be able to dismiss her like that. Reaching up to tug his striped hat lower, Urahara thought about what he should do. Yes, she was right, he did know something, but—shrewd and nosy as he was—it was his personal belief that some things were off limits to outsiders. Intimate relationship between two people was one such thing.
After another moment of silence, Urahara finally made his decision. Excusing himself from Rukia, he walked off to his office. When he returned, he held out an envelope to Rukia.
"This will tell you what I know," he said. "I personally feel that it is not my place to interfere with...this. But I realize that they are your friends as much as they are mine, so I shall leave it to your judgement how you want to handle it."
Rukia eyed the former captain apprehensively. For all his quirkiness and annoying flamboyance, she knew that he was an insightful man. "Thank you," she said, clutching the envelope tightly, then she looked at Renji's door hesitantly. Should she still wait for her friend? Or should she...
Urahara caught her moment of indecision. "I advise you to go over the contents in that envelope..." He gestured to Rukia's hand with his fan. "...before you talk to either one of them."
So...what do you think is inside that envelope?