Guess who finished their A-levels?

And has a gap yah before uni?

And will be updating so often you'll get sick of them?

...

I hope to have a lovely year with you all, and will let you know next chapter when to expect updates once I settle into a routine.

If everyone's OOC it's probably because I haven't read Bleach since early May because of exams and everything's a bit skewed in my head. Sorry.

Enjoy.

"Is she awake yet?"

Ishida smirked at his master's impatience.

"How should I know? Nobody has been in here to update me on your new girlfriend's sleeping situation since you last asked 3 minutes ago." He continued with his business paperwork, a snigger still under his breath.

"She's not my girlfriend." Ishida chuckled, and Ichigo sighed, loudly, just to annoy his partner, and tried once again to focus upon the numbers on the pieces of paper in front of him, but ended up merely looking around the surroundings of his study, unable to concentrate.

A few minutes later, he opened his mouth again, only to be stopped from continuing almost immediately.

"Stop. I don't know. I don't have some kind of mental link to her that lets me know exactly when she wakes up just to satisfy your perverse obsession."

"Fuck you, Uryuu."

There was silence for a few more moments.

"Do you think she'll be scared of me?"

"If I were you, Kurosaki, I'd be wondering if she even remembers you, considering she was half asleep when she saw you and then passed out immediately after."

Ichigo's eyes bugged out of his head, visible behind his mask. "Oh, yeah. Shit."

The first thing Rukia comprehended when she woke up was the smell of something foreign but heavenly.

Her violet eyes began to open, and she blinked several times as her eyes adjusted to the light. The curtains had been pulled back from both around her bed and the windows, letting sunlight stream into her bedroom, reflecting off the white painted walls and making the soft gold materials decorating her bed glow. A glimmer caught her eye, which she discovered to be from the chandelier above. Rukia increasingly felt out of her depth; the western idea of glamour and luxury was different from her traditional eastern way of life, this seeming more flamboyant and decadent. The massive culture shock, made especially obvious in this bright light, was making her head spin.

All of a sudden, the smell that had drawn her upright in bed made itself obvious to her; a little table, a gorgeous gold-finished wood, with a matching chair and cushion, had a plate of steaming something and a teapot and cup.

She pulled herself from her beautifully comfortable bed and went to investigate. She sat on the chair, and surveyed the contents of the plate. She'd been too tired to realise the night before when she'd been presented with food that even what she had been expected to eat was a massive change from her usual. Even the tea she poured herself was nothing like what she knew tea to be at home. Spurred on by the gorgeous smell and the rumbling in her stomach that had chosen this moment to make itself known, she picked up a fork – a relatively unknown utensil to her, considering she'd only ever used chopsticks up until the night before – and began to eat.

"Good morning, Kuchiki-san!"

Her fork paused halfway to her mouth.

"Isn't it beautiful out? It's so bright because of the snow! I just wish we could open a window or a door in here, but you'd catch your death of cold! How are the pancakes? I told the chef he should have put something you'd be more comfortable with on them until you got used to them! I suggested wasabi paste, but he didn't seem to want to..."

For a moment, that there was another strange woman in the room with her was eclipsed by the horrific idea of the spicy paste on the sweet pancakes.

The woman's voice continued talking about food as Rukia continued to be unmoving, eyes wide. She gathered herself after the initial shock, and turned slowly around.

The talking stopped abruptly as Rukia saw the stone statue of a beautiful young woman frozen in the act of rearranging the disarrayed bed sheets that Rukia had paid no attention to in her curiosity to find the source of the smell. Her mouth was even stuck mid-speech.

Panicking a little, Rukia turned back around to the table, hands held awkwardly above the table.

"You could give me some warning before you turn around you know! What if I'd been holding a tray of hot drinks and they'd fallen out of my hand and splashed all over me? I'd be in so much pain! But then again, I could have gotten Ishida-kun to cover my burns in cream, so it wouldn't have been all bad!"

Rukia stared dumbfounded at the reflection of the woman moving in the glass. "Eh... Excuse me?"

The slightly blurry figure paused in the pane. "Yes, Kuchiki-san?"

"How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Turn to stone."

Rukia heard a sharp intake of breath, and the figure she could see still did not move.

"Kuchiki-san, has no one else been into see you yet other than me?"

"No."

"...Oh."

"Is that wrong?"

She saw the woman in the reflection wave her hands in front of her in a panicky manner. "No, no no no! I'm sure it's fine! I'm sure they meant for it to be this way!"

"... I do not understand."

Rukia saw the figure walk closer to her from behind.

"Kuchiki-san, I turn to... turn to stone when an unaffected human looks at me."

"What? Why?"

She sighed. "Because of the spell put on us by the wizard traitor before he left. It's a long story, really, and I'm not the one to tell it, so I don't really want to try. I know this seems really odd," she laughed nervously. "I mean, you've just gotten here and I'm telling you that I'll turn to stone if you look at me. It's ridiculous really!"

Rukia was silent, back completely straight facing the maid, staring at her food.

"I've drawn you a bath in your wet room, since you didn't have a chance to wash when you got here last night, so you can do that after you've eaten, and I'll prepare your hair and find you clothes for the day." Rukia heard footsteps and saw the figure in the window move towards the door.

"You are leaving?"

She could hear the smirk in the maid's voice. "Somebody has to tell the master you're awake."

The bath was amazing; it smelt of lavender and vanilla, and the bubbles reached her chin even when she was sat with her back straight. Her head was resting against the side and her wet hair was slicked against her skull. There was no noise, and the lighting came only from a few candles, the door blocking out the sun streaming through her windows.

Nothing could ruin the serenity.

Until something really, really did.

"NEEEEE-SAN!"

Her head went up so quickly her neck cricked audibly, and she let out a rarely uttered profanity at the sudden stabbing pain: "Fuck!" She slid a little awkwardly against the tub as she tried to identify the noise, attempting to use her arms on the top of the bath as leverage, and its source became obvious as she heard bubbles from beneath the water. A vein popping angrily in her forehead, she pulled whatever-it-was from under the bubbles, ready to scream blue murder. Her anger was not stopped by her surprise at the talking cat that looked suspiciously like a tiny lion with its fluffy mane and blonde-red fur. "What the hell do you think you are doing?" her voice had a lethal edge to it.

Being held by the scruff of its neck, the wet cat-lion held its paws defensively in front of its face. "I'm sorry nee-san! Please forgive me so that I may once again rest in the valley of the Gooooods!" It made an attempt to reach her breasts, and despite her usual fondness for cute animals, was thrown against the opposite wall of her black marble wet room on instinct, its wet fur making it slide down slowly.

As it mumbled dramatically to itself about the perils of life whilst creating a puddle of bath water and bubbles on the floor, she used the diversion as an opportunity to hop out of the bath and cover herself quickly with a fluffy white towel folded neatly by the edge of the tub, another towel wrapped around her hair. Feeling a lot more secured, she turned her attention back to the cat... who was currently managing to stand like a human, producing a barrage of tears and begging for her forgiveness.

By the point, Rukia was pretty certain she'd gone insane. She had had a crazy dream about a monster, her maid had told that when she looks at her she turns to stone, and now a cat with human characteristics – particularly of a perverted nature – was attacking her chest.

She collapsed on her bed, still wet and wrapped in her towel, completely adamant that she was still dreaming, or that her food had been drugged.

Now she just needed her father's head attached to a pink elephant to walk through the door, and the scenario would be complete.

"She's awake, Kurosaki-kun!"

Ishida smirked at the man in question as he feigned disinterest, continuing to do the paperwork for a business deal. "Good for her."

Inoue's bright smile faltered a little, and her shoulders sagged a bit. "I thought you were waiting to know, Kurosaki-kun?"

"No, I err... wasn't that interested."

"Oh. Well, I'll be showing her around the castle in a little while, I thought you'd want to know in case you wanted to have a stroll yourself. See you later!"

The bubbly maid left, and there was a little more silence, before Uryuu once again took the piss. "You have an absolute obsession with your image. It'd be pathetic if I didn't find it so funny."

Ichigo sighed loudly and leant back in his chair. "Just fuck right off, Ishida."

He just sneered. "Hoping to make a bigger impact on your new girlfriend's psyche than you did last night?"

"She's not my girlfriend."

Ichigo swore he could hear the smirk in that little bastard's voice. "And she never will be if you keep messing with her sanity either."

The masked man stood up abruptly, violently knocking over his chair in the process, stood and stamped his way moodily out of the study. "Get your ass to the training hall, you Quincy bastard. I'm going to beat the crap out of you."

Ishida followed him with more dignity. "Of course you are."

Rukia was twirling an unidentified white flower in her hands when Orihime returned. It was from a tiny branch off a tree that was poking through a window on the east side of her bedroom, and was perfectly bloomed when she'd plucked it. As she'd been sat at her dressing table in just the dressing gown she'd found in the ridiculously huge wardrobe, the white petals of the blossom had already began to wilt.

"Hello again, Kuchiki-san!"

Rukia kept her eyes trained to the bud as she replied, not wanting to cause any bother by looking up and turning the servant to stone. "Good morning again, Orihime."

"How was your bath?" she asked as she toyed with the still slightly damp tresses of her new mistress.

"Excellent, until that interrupted it."

Orihime was confused until she followed where Rukia was pointing to; Kon, the perverted, talking cat – under an even more annoying spell than herself – who actually looked like a minute lion was tied to a leg of one of the chairs at Rukia's breakfast table, his mouth shut by a length of duct tape that Orihime didn't understand where she'd managed to get from. It was performing its job well though, for all his squirming the cat couldn't make a noise.

"What did he do?"

"Tried to get in the bath with me."

"Ah." He looked pleadingly at the maid. "Kon's harmless really. At least it's not as bad as when he had a human body, I have to say."

Rukia stiffened a little. "He was human?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm... I am lucky I wasn't here for that then."

Orihime let out a giggle, which Rukia followed, unwittingly letting her eyes flash to her new lady in waiting in the mirror in front of the dressing table, and immediately moved her eyes again.

Then, the woman's eyes bugged, and flicked back to the maid; she didn't turn to stone.

Evidently, Orihime had noticed, judging by the huge grin she was sporting. "Well... would you look at that."

And that was how they discovered that looking at reflections did not change the cursed into stone.

"I thought I would show you around the castle, if that's agreeable with you," Orihime suggested, as she finished pulling on the corset strings of the cerise coloured silk gown Rukia was sporting after she discovered the complete lack of kimono within her clothing options; it had taken her a long time to discover a dress that did not reveal too much of her bust, and even this was a little too inappropriate for her taste. In her native land, a woman's sexual appeal would be seen by displaying the back of her neck, and Rukia was sure that this idea was the opposite here – one dress, described by her maid as having a sweetheart neckline, dipped to the centre of her bust, for heaven's sake!

"Of course; I must press however, I am still at a loss as to why I am here."

"You won't be soon." Orihime finished tying, and patted Rukia's back to signal she was done. "After I've shown you around, I can bring you back here for riding clothes and you can take your horse out if you want."

Rukia stood and walked to her door, smiling slightly. "That would be nice."

Orihime opened the door for her, and led her new mistress down corridors, obviously knowing a route that Rukia was at a complete loss as to how she would learn, and kept her head bowed to the floor so she did not turn her maid to stone. "I caught a glimpse of her last night – she's absolutely gorgeous! Such a pure white, I'd never seen anything like it!"

This time, Rukia's smile was full-blown. "Her name is Sode No Shirayuki, but I just call her Sode. She's beautiful, but she can be a little of a pain sometimes... "

"I know, but all animals can... I mean look at Kon-" She took a sharp intake of breath. "I forgot about Kon! I'll be right back, I just need to release him!" When Rukia nodded her head in consent, Orihime picked up her skirts in what Rukia thought a rather undignified manner from the corner of her eye, and ran back the way they had came.

A minute or so of waiting later, Rukia scrutinised the walls around her, covered in paintings; most were typical of a rich manor, though Rukia was still unfamiliar with the style. Many were portraits, or depictions of landscapes, until one caught her eye.

It was the same orange-haired stranger she had encountered in paintings the night before, though he seemed ever so slightly older than the one she had seen in the entrance hall. His jaw seemed more defined, his cheekbones solid, his body obviously more taut and muscled, but it was his hair that made the biggest impact: it was still the same ridiculous orange colour, but he seemed to have grown into it now. It had lengthened quite a lot, almost to below his eyes, and yet that amber still pierced her through the strands...

'This is absurd,' she couldn't help but think to herself, 'getting excited over a painting of a man who is probably dead and buried by now. Get over yourself.'

"So, I see you've noticed the master then." Orihime had returned.

Rukia's eyes stayed trained on the gold framed canvas, complimenting the dark wood panelling of the windowless walls. "The master?"

"Yes," Orihime's face held a sly grin, and she walked to stand immediately to Rukia's left side. "He doesn't look quite like that anymore, but he's still one of the most handsome men in the world underneath it all."

"He has aged?"

"I guess you could say that." Her grin did not waver, and she began to lead Rukia down the corridors once again.

The rest of their morning was spent observing the varying features of the castle. Every room was breath-taking, and, though not one thing familiar to her traditional Japanese roots, she still found she could enjoy it just as much as a room furnished in a recognizable manner. There were silk drapes, mahogany desks, paintings filled with illustrations of the young man and his family, and even the odd servant she passed who had their head bowed, completely frozen marble. She was led through drawing rooms and morning rooms, family rooms and sitting rooms, painting rooms (which she was especially excited by) and music rooms, until finally,

"I'm sorry, my lady, but the master is training downstairs at the moment, so I cannot show you around."

Rukia's eyebrow quirked visibly as she stared at the door; it was the same, almost red, mahogany as so many others she had seen, but this was more... worn... there were violent slashes in the wood that had obviously been carved by a knife or a-

"He likes to train with swords with the men. Often, his old friends who trained him will arrive and spar, one in particular becomes quite vicious. We end up patching him up for days whilst he sulks that he didn't win."

Rukia scoffed. "It does not sound as though he has aged from the young man in the pictures to me."

Orihime laughed. "He hasn't then, I suppose."

The wind whipped through the young noble woman's hair as she flexed her leg muscles, riding her horse across the white, slushy fields surrounding her new home, the icy blasts turning her nose pink. And yet, after spending an entire morning and afternoon in the dusty, stuffy castle, she could not yet bring herself to go back inside: inside meant finding something she was not yet sure she wanted to find, and she felt that, with her disadvantage, she would rather prolong the inevitable.

But she knew she would have to turn back soon; the sky was pink, and the set snow was beginning to sparkle as the temperature dropped, and she was sure it would do no one any good for her to catch hypothermia on her second night. Even Sode was letting out a shiver despite her galloping. She considered that she had been out here a while, thinking so deeply she had lost her sense of time, and then that it was no surprise her horse was freezing. She pulled the reins until Sode eventually slowed, and then halted.

Rukia had no idea why she was here, even after 24 hours. Her father had not informed her of what exactly the 'mistake' he had made, only that she was the price to be paid for it. She still had no idea what was expected of her, and she wanted to berate herself for becoming so friendly with a maid, creating an ally that she could lose just as easily.

And there was clearly something wrong here – servants turning to stone, it was like a fairy tale - and yet she still would not let herself believe for a minute it was magic. That was for children. It was make believe. It did not exist. There was a logical explanation. It was just hidden deep.

Staring at the encroaching night in the distance, she wondered what her chances of escaping were. A quick glance behind her told her no one was there, and she was yet to meet any hostility during her stay, but she still could feel it, that niggling sensation in the back of her skull. She was being watched, she didn't know who by, but it was giving her more and more of an incentive to run the hell away from here before whatever was staring caught up with her. She felt trapped, like it would catch her whether she stayed or if she ran.

But Rukia knew she had to stay – she was a Kuchiki. She had been sent here by her father. To return would be a dishonour to her family name, and a mark of disrespect. She did not have a choice. And in any case, she would rather die or whatever here than face the consequences back home that would last a life time.

Her mind made up, she abandoned her consideration of departure, and unwilling tugged on the reins until she faced the castle again to return.

She was obviously been thinking about leaving. She was sat right there on her horse obviously this close to bolting.

If there was once thing Ichigo did not understand, it was women.

Give them a pretty bedroom covered in sparkly crap and dresses in the wardrobes and a girlfriend to talk to and a cat to fawn over, and apparently they still want to fucking leave less than a day later.

The fuck?

She quickly whipped her head around and scanned the castle exterior, obviously feeling the eyes planted on the back of her skull; he knew she wouldn't see him from here.

He had to admit though, even as he was internally waging war with her, he still couldn't deny her beauty even from this far away. Her cheekbones were sharp against her onyx hair, and he could even see her nose had gone an adorable scarlet in the cold. He couldn't see her dark eyes properly from this distance, but he knew the amethyst well already.

She turned back around and faced the sunset, obscured slightly by clouds, turning the otherwise clear sky pink, her shoulders a little more slumped.

Ichigo pulled the white towel from around his shoulders and dried his damp hair from his shower with it, laying it across the back of the chair and turning still shirtless to the sight outside. He wouldn't meet her tonight. It was the day before the full moon tomorrow; the last of his now-simple mask would smash during his sleep in the early hours, and she would be a lot less scared to meet him without it, though he would have to leave immediately afterwards. It was much easier to tend to business in the city with humans if you didn't have a mask obscuring your face, giving the impression of evil incarnate. He would return Wednesday evening, perhaps even in time to see her again before he spent the night shackled in the dungeons whilst he transformed once more.

He was very hopeful she wasn't like her father though, or the next ten years would be fucking boring. He was increasingly sure she wouldn't be – he doubted her father would have been seriously considering running away the first day.

She clearly let out a sigh, and steered her horse around and back to the stables in a steady canter, her face a little downcast, before eventually disappearing from his view, obscured by the shape of the castle. He followed suit, and went to find clothes in his drawers.

"She's pretty, huh?"

Ichigo reached down to lift the cat from the foot of his bed by the scruff of its neck and dropped him rather unceremoniously onto the floor. "What have I told you about staying off my bed, Kon?" he asked, as he disappeared back into his bathroom.

"You're just jealous because I've seen her in the bath!"

Ichigo's head whipped back around the door frame, and he was momentarily glad for his mask that covered his slightly pink tinged cheeks; they did not however interfere with the force of his glare. The cat took a hint, and quickly scarpered out the door.

Ichigo huffed over the cat's nerve, and a small voice at the back of his head called Kon a 'lucky bastard'.

"Yes, your father was an... interesting guest, to say the least," Ishida joked, sipping on a glass of wine. "I have never seen the cook in such a fluster than when he sent back a dish three times as uncooked, and when it was finally up to standard took only a small spoonful. I thought she would stomp out and give him a talking to."

Rukia laughed lightly, knowing full well the ways of her father. He was just as fussy back home, though considering his ranking he easily got his way; here, she did not know his social ranking, but it appeared that he was in much less regard.

At the moment, Rukia was dining with Orihime, Ishida, and a few other servants, including a rather tomboyish girl named Tatsuki who was a close friend of Orihime's, and two men named Mizuiro and Keigo – neither of whom Rukia was clear upon of their roles in the household – among others. Usually, Rukia would never sit at a table with servants; in actuality, the servants would never have permission to sit at the nobility's table. And yet they had all sat down as if it was natural, casually, and Rukia couldn't lie – she had never known such a friendly atmosphere outside of Matsumoto and Momo, both of whom she already missed painfully, even if Ishida was the only one she could look at without turning to stone. They had shared stories as the cook had brought out the food and then joined them, and the wine had been passed around the table many times already. Rukia was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol, becoming more and more woozy.

"I actually thought Ichigo was going to murder him at some points during his stay," Ishida continued, others agreeing as Rukia's head flicked up from her lap to him.

Her eyebrow quirked slightly, and her posture straightened impeccably as she remembered herself. "Ichigo?"

Ishida smirked infinitesimally. "Yes, Ichigo Kurosaki. He's the master here."

Rukia's eyes moved downwards and she nodded slightly, her hand moving to fiddle with the small amethyst pendant she had discovered on her dressing table when she had changed from her riding outfit that afternoon.

"You'll, uh, be meeting him soon." Ishida pushed his glasses up.

She nodded again slightly, but her eyes did not move as she digested the new information.

"He hated your father though, and the feeling was mutual," Ishida told her, smiling. "I'm sure he ground down all his teeth, his jaw was tense as soon as Kuchiki entered the room." Rukia smiled a little more. "It only got worse when they started talking about business."

Rukia took a sharper intake of breath, and her eyes flicked up the master's right hand man. He was still smiling kindly at her, and she frowned slightly as she wondered what dealings the master of this manor could possibly have with her father, a businessman.

Orihime helpfully changed the subject – apparently the snowdrops were beginning to bloom on the north wall – and they would look amazing in the bouquets in the main hall – while Rukia retained her Kuchiki mask and stance. She had let her guard down again and these people obviously knew something she did not, and they did not seem to be ready to divulge the information.

She remained quietly until the group began to disperse, when she politely excused herself, dizzy from the wine, let Orihime get her ready to sleep in her bedroom, and finally sink into the silken sheets of her soft bed, the silk lined canopy above her staring back.

Sleep evaded her for hours. She tossed and turned, had a glass of water, looked out the window to the snow-laden scenery, and eventually pulled on a dressing gown and slippers and ventured onto her balcony.

Her slippered feet crunched slightly on the frozen snow as she padded to the edge. She stared at the view for while; she was not sure how long, but she could track the movements of the moon across the black sky. Snow began to fall lightly, and she knew she should go back in before she began to sneeze, but she stayed still, leaning against the stone railing of her balcony. She felt this was the beginning of a midnight ritual.

Eventually, she took a deep breath, and turned as she watched it disperse before her – but she saw something –

A dark figure was staring at her from the other side of the water, in the shadow of lurking trees. She could not see its face. She pulled her dressing gown closer to her neck, but felt no fear. She saw it shuffle slightly between its feet – as if a shadow could be nervous - and when it looked back up, she smiled a little. She sighed again, smiled lightly as she went back to her bed.

She slept almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, and did not dream.

A/N: Those last few scenes felt kind of off, but it felt like too much of a filler chapter without them, and I wanted to build on the pre-meeting relationship a bit more (oxymoron! Nooo!), so that's why they're there. Even though I don't like them. And I couldn't work out the grammar in some parts. But I thought something should be there. And it's 2:15am and I'm watching My Best Friend's Wedding and I feel a bit manic.

Review please! It only takes a minute (2 if you have to sign in) and telling me what's wrong with it is the most helpful thing in the world.

Telling me what you like puts me in a good mood for the rest of the day, though.

Hopefully see you very soon – updates will be much more often and less sporadic from now!