Kuchikis were known for their intense focus, and the ability to remain collected through the most chaotic events. It was once said Byakuya Kuchiki put out a small fire while continuing his speech on the latest company strategy for the quarter, never pausing in his delivery or so much as raising his tone. Even as he reached forward and snuffed out the flames on a nearby table.
Rukia had mastered it in her own way. Or so she had thought. Because despite her best efforts at being a good student for the rest of the day, she couldn't shake the image of the strange blue-haired man scowling at her and mentioning the dreaded 'f-word': Feelings.
She inwardly bristled at the thought, redoubling her efforts at listening to her professor's lecture. What would a stranger know? What did he know of her, of her feelings, of Protector15? It was coincidence. Perhaps he often bothered women sitting around campus with such things. Statistically, on a college campus, it was likely he would find women daydreaming about romance. No, the idea that he knew anything about her had no merit. She did not have any feelings to tell anyone about, she thought, as her cheeks grew warm and she glared at her computer screen.
The thought lingered still, like a caffeine-starved student waiting desperately at the coffee pickup counter.
From habit, Rukia reached for her phone to check messages- finding the device running hot, as it had been doing lately, and it slow to respond. It was an opportunity to stop herself and resolutely think of something else. Anything but Protector.
She ended up pondering again what Protector would look and sound like in person; somehow knowing he would look handsome, perhaps with a deep voice. She continued to think about it until she realized the lecture was over, and she still didn't know what class it actually was. She muttered a curse to herself as she rushed to gather her things.
Protector15 was still a mystery in so many ways. She didn't know what he looked or sounded like, and he only knew her as a cartoon rabbit. It was foolish to think she might have developed- even in her mind, she struggled with the word- feelings. It was absurd, she knew.
They had only talked over the messaging app and in games. Rukia desperately wanted to switch to voice, if not for personal reasons then for practical ones. It was simply easier when playing games, she told herself. It had nothing to do with hearing what his voice sounded like, and if it was as deep as she imagined it to be. Or to video chat with him and see the face behind the words she'd come to know so well.
But that was another step, far beyond playing games together and chatting through written words. It would mean exposing herself as Rukia Kuchiki, heir to Kuchiki Corp. It wasn't possible- not unless she knew him far better, far longer. They would need to reveal their voices, first. But the few times she had asked, Protector had resisted with the excuse of bothering his roommate.
Protector seemed sensitive about it. She didn't want to pry, and let the matter drop. Besides that, there was always the chance he could recognize her unfiltered voice, finding out who she really was before she was ready to share it. No, the time wasn't right. Not yet. Maybe someday.
Too many times in the quiet hours of the night, as she thought of that day's conversations, she dared to wonder the impossible: How would he react to knowing who she was? Would he see her differently as a true 'celebrity', not of an internet niche, but of the outside world? Would he be unfazed the way he was around Chappy?
There was a stream scheduled that night. Rukia tried to focus on that and not Protector. Even though his name would inevitably pop up in the chat box, as it always did. She would simply need to look past that and focus on the upcoming stream.
She lasted an hour.
Rukia had a brief reprieve after Literature class when she walked with Ichigo to the library, just like they had for the past week. That day, Ichigo was wearing tight black jeans and a light blue shirt that said something in English. He'd been looking more put-together, as of late, she'd noticed. His choice of clothing actually resembled fashion and not a child's finger painting.
This was because Ichigo had taken great pains in selecting his outfits every Tuesday and Thursday morning- for at least ten minutes a day. He'd pick whatever made him look best and seemed to match. Then, on his way out the door, he'd be promptly stopped by a frantic Ishida. Each time, Ichigo would make a show of ignoring his roommate's desperate ideas to 'fix' the outfit.
Then, the second Ishida left the room, Ichigo would change clothes.
Their walk to the library that day was entirely unremarkable, and the only thing of interest was the possible shape of a bunny Rukia thought she saw run behind a bush beside a bike rack. It turned out to be a trash bag.
"What is it?" Ichigo asked with the appearance of being disinterested.
Rukia turned so he wouldn't see her glower. "It's nothing," she said flatly. She sighed.
Her partner was tired, as usual, and they avoided the theater like they had the past few meetings.
By then, their meetings had found a routine. They worked calmly together, for the most part. To say they didn't bicker would be incorrect. But clear progress was made during every meeting, and their scores had been very high so far. Ichigo was proving better at literature than Rukia expected.
And for that single hour twice weekly in the study room, for some reason, she rarely thought about Protector15.
Chappy started the stream that night with a game called Dr. Mystic Love. The menu displayed three stylized illustrations of impossibly perfect men, posing like they were models; their hair, skin, and teeth sparkling like sequins. Each of them a possible love interest in the story-driven dating game. The kind Protector15 loathed.
"This game was suggested by Protector15," Chappy smirked.
The blue-haired man from earlier and his fierce accusation threatened to come to mind. As did Renji's smirk about how she seemed happier lately. Rukia schooled her expression as she pushed the memories away. She was merely teasing a close friend. That was all.
Chat flooded with shocked and laughing emojis, with PicTexts thrown in for good measure. She almost missed the 'WHAT' posted by Protector that flew past in the flurry of other messages.
Protector15: WRONG!
Protector15: I DIDNT
Protector15: THIS WASNT ME
Protector15: dammit chappy
Rukia's smirk grew. She chuckled lowly. It was far too easy to get a rise out of him.
She looked again at the dashing suitors sparkling on the game menu. One of them wore a suit and carried a rose in his mouth, while another held a teddy bear to match his boyish smile. The third wore a leather jacket and had chains hanging from his waistband.
Chappy had little experience with 'dating games'. Technically speaking, the abomination that was the KFC video game was a story-driven dating game, but Rukia's mind had purged most of the memory as a protective measure.
The premise was simple. Virtual dating games offered a simulation of the romantic experience. Like in real life, the player was offered choices of what to do and say with other characters. The choices would branch into countless paths of what could happen; the smallest of actions having lasting consequences. There was only one true happy ending, and all the right decisions had to be made to get there. The wrong move could result in kidnapping, blackmail, entanglement with a cult, horrific tragedy, or earth-shattering heartbreak. But, unlike real life, the game had the option of reverting back to an earlier save point so different choices could be made.
The story began with beautiful illustrations of a young brunette woman starting her new job as an event planner. Workers were setting up for a banquet of some kind, and after a lengthy intro about her character's life dream of being the Ultimate Event Planner, a worker appeared in front of her. They had run out of roses for the centerpieces and had to use leftovers for the rest of the tables.
Two boxes appeared at the bottom of the screen: 'Use Daisies' or 'Use Orchids'.
"I'm not sure which to choose," she said, frowning.
Howling_Monkey_Snake69: I thought u didn't play games like this?
"Quiet!" she said, much louder than she meant. "I-I'm merely trying something new. Is that so strange? I don't know why you must ask about it," she huffed. The rabbit on-screen didn't portray the faint warmness she felt in her cheeks, a sensation that was unexpected and confusing.
She chose daisies.
The workers continued on as her character recounted her backstory. Then, there was a scream, and the tuxedo-wearing man from the menu screen was found in a pool of blood.
"What the hell?" she blinked.
'BAD ENDING' crept menacingly on the screen in crimson text.
"What the hell?!" She stared. "I thought this was a romance?!"
'MALDING!' The word filled chat, over and over.
'She's malding!'
'MAD + BALDING'
"Quiet!" she glared at the chat as if it would help. "Shut up! I'm not!" She said, a hand clenching at the side of her head and tugging slightly at her ebony locks. The rabbit did the same with a white paw. She muttered a curse.
Protector15: Yeah. This is a romance for the ages.
She snorted. "Fool!"
Then, on her second screen, she opened a window and searched for 'Dr. Mystic Love walkthrough cheats'.
Three hours later, her playthrough of Dr. Mystic Love was advancing in leaps and bounds, the on-screen relationship with the jacket-wearing Desmond was now filled with tender gazes and soft whispers. 'I've been thinking about you a lot, lately…' his words read. She eagerly pressed the 'I've thought about you, too.' button.
Desmond smirked dashingly. The chat started to go wild with anticipation, the text scrolling faster and filled with heart emojis.
The main character blushed, her inner-monologue flowing onto the screen. 'I feel so silly… I've known Desmond for years, but we've only really been talking for a few weeks! We should be strangers. And yet… And yet I feel as if I've known him for a lifetime.' The character smiled wistfully.
Rukia stared fixedly at the screen.
Her character blushed, looking at her feet. 'Is it… Is it possible I have feelings for him? I feel happy when I talk with him… And I just can't get him out of my mind!'
Rukia considered the words on the screen very carefully, blinking with wide eyes.
Desmond smiled and held out his hand. Rukia quickly clicked 'Take his hand' and watched as he led them to a walkway lit only by strings of lanterns. 'I feel like I can be myself around you. Only you,' he said.
Rukia immediately selected 'I can be myself around you, too. I know you'll accept me for who I am.'
'Chappy…' The words on the screen would have looked absurd any other time, to see her online name ruin the mood so easily. Yet, Rukia could only stare at the screen, transfixed, leaning closer to her monitor in anticipation. Chat all but forgotten.
The character looked out of the screen again, at Rukia. 'I could tell him about my feelings… Or I can keep them secret, never telling anyone, leaving our relationship to wither and die while he moves on, and I'm left as a lonely maid, wallowing in feelings of regret and forever tormented by 'what ifs'.' The character blinked happily. Rukia frowned slightly, wondering about the people who wrote the game.
'What should I do?' the character asked with a bubbly smile.
Two options appeared. 'Keep it secret.' was the first. The second read 'Tell him about your feelings.'
She knew it was a pivotal choice. It had taken a lot of other choices and events to reach the point where her character could finally admit her love. It was very likely the only chance for her character to do so.
The enchanting world of the story was lost to her; the immersion shattered in favor of staring at the options on her screen, sitting in her room in her very real life, her real heart beating loudly. The words burned on the screen.
With a start, Rukia remembered the constant flash of chat messages, all of them shouting about which option she should choose. She blinked, realizing she had been holding her breath- a very strange thing to do for a simple game, which she was merely playing as a joke. She and her in-game character were completely, utterly, different, and there was no reason for it to affect her in such a way.
"Ah… I think that is enough for tonight," she said, forcing a smile. "We will continue later."
She avoided looking at the chatbox and if a certain user had posted anything.
With the stream closed, she let out a tired sigh even as she remained upright in her chair. But her thoughts raced faster than they should have.
It was so very foolish- yet, the thought refused to leave her. Could she have feelings for someone she had never met- never seen or even heard? Was it a silly illusion? Or was it a truer form of affection, unhindered by surface appearance or station in life?
She readied for bed, changing clothes and pulling her hair up in a pink headband with rabbit ears sticking out the top. She washed her face, then stared at her reflection in deep thought. It would have been easy for her to dismiss the notion as the result of sleep deprivation.
Instead, she remembered how many times her day was brightened by his messages, the countless hours spent in virtual worlds, and how easily she could be herself around him- through text or voice filter. She could never view him as an internet stranger. Not anymore.
There had been something about Protector that was unlike anyone else she had met.
Renji was not known for his observational skills. But he had known her longer than anyone else. And something would have to be truly obvious for him to notice something was different about her.
'Tell him how you feel already!' the blue-haired man shouted with a scowl.
Had it truly been so obvious, even to a stranger passing by?
Her reflection stared back at her with a pensive frown. But it ebbed away, quickly and smoothly, until she found herself smiling softly.
She was such a fool.
How easily she had been swept away by him. It was silly- and exciting all the same.
Her phone buzzed in the bedroom. She hurried over to find Protector's new message.
Protector15: Everything okay?
Protector15: You logged off quick. What's wrong?
Rukia held the phone in both hands, sitting on her bed, fixated on the screen as if it were her whole world.
Chappy: I'm fine
Protector15: You didn't seem yourself at the end
She wanted to curse at him, yet she smiled. He knew her too well. Her cheeks grew warm at the thought of the real reason for her behavior. Did he realize what happened, she wondered?
Then, she remembered her character's choice in the story, and the option which called to her, beckoned her.
Making the wrong choice could lead to gruesome murder by cultists. The same could happen in the game, too, but Rukia thought the risk was minimal in Protector15's case.
She could feel herself teetering on the edge; a choice to take a chance. She didn't have a walkthrough guide to her life like the one for Dr. Mystic Love, a set of instructions on the right choices to make and what to avoid. But the notion did nothing against her confident stare at the phone. Anything worth doing involved some form of risk.
There were only so many ways he could respond. She considered each of them carefully, as if donning armor around her heart. She'd hoped that he would be excited. Maybe even admit to feeling the same way. But she had cautioned herself to expect something worse, in the form of awkward shock or a gentle refusal of her feelings. Her rational mind was still present despite the faint haze of feelings. She would accept his response, whatever it was. She would understand, she decided.
Mere words seemed to pale for what she was trying to say. It felt like a game to speak with Protector, each of them ribbing the other, saying one thing while meaning another. But she wanted to be clear, and to leave no doubt. It might be less awkward besides. Pulling up the PicText menu, she typed her message, looked through the options, and selected a flashy, if ironic, picture and pressed 'send'.
There, in the chat window, was an image bearing the words 'I like you' surrounded by flowers.
No, she thought, there was nothing he could possibly say that would jeopardize their friendship.
It was an eternity before Protector started to type. Even longer as she waited for the reply. She gripped the phone tightly, her gaze transfixed and unblinking on the screen.
Then-
Protector15: ok
She stared. She reread it once, twice, then again for good measure. No other message followed.
Rukia wondered if her glitchy phone skipped one of his messages. But there was no sign of it.
The trance was broken. Her fingers moved quickly across the screen.
Chappy: that's it?
Chappy: thats all you have to say
Protector15: yeah
Rukia stared again at the screen. Her shocked, blank expression was quickly giving way to a concoction of disbelief, mixed with disappointment, and peppered with fury.
Chappy: that image? theres nothing else you have to say about it?
Protector15: No.
Protector15: What's the big deal?
Protector15: It's just some crummy pictext
It took her several moments to find herself, her disbelief nearly lost in the mix of emotions that followed. She found familiar comfort in the fury that rose forth as she glared at the screen incredulously. How dare he be so careless? To treat one's feelings with such… apathy? Did he care so little what she thought of him? It was worse than outright rejection or awkwardness. It was cold, even cruel.
She started to type a reply, only to delete it, finding it a string of insults anyway.
His response could have been some kind of joke. Maybe he thought she wasn't serious? Or that he didn't get the image? But he had never used sarcasm in that way before. He used no emojis or showed any indication that he found it funny, or that he thought she was kidding. It was the same reaction he'd given when shown new game instructions he didn't care to read or learn. The digital equivalent of a bored shrug.
It was the last reaction she expected from him. He was not the sort of man to be apathetic to someone's feelings, let alone those of a friend. Or so she had thought.
How could she have misjudged him so terribly?
The answer came immediately, as distasteful as it was: Her judgment was wrong, because when it came down to it, she apparently knew Protector very little. How else could she have erred so badly?
It was her own fault, she knew. Even if she felt strangely betrayed- much like when Renji discovered his friend Kira preferred Famichiki's chicken to KFC. Renji ended the friendship immediately.
Rukia's glare turned steely and distant. Her grip relaxed on her phone as she held a now dispassionate stare, the words written there a simple distasteful memory. It was a conversation with a stranger- a fact she had known for some time, but foolishly convinced herself otherwise. Playing games together and holding a conversation or two didn't change that. She realized that, now.
Dwelling on it only made her more aware of her folly. Every second her gaze lingered on the conversation, at the screen name written there, made her feel worse. Just as it made her increasingly aware of an ache in her chest she was intent to ignore.
Rukia knew it was cowardice which drove her. But she could see no other choice.
Chappy: I have to go
With a deep breath, she muted Protector15 for twenty-four hours. Then she blocked him on her server. It was only temporary, she told herself. She would talk with him again once she'd healed and accepted him as simply another online fan.
She yearned for the Kuchiki serenity her brother was known for. Rukia shut off her phone, roughly placing it on the nightstand. She turned on her side in bed, curling up tight under the covers.
But Rukia couldn't have known how Protector would react to her message- a casually selected PicText bearing the words 'I like you' in garish shades of bright red against neon green, surrounded by yellow flowers. She had no way to know those hues would be problematic for the man on the other side. That, for some people, certain colors would appear identical. The shades blurred together into a sea of what appeared to be yellow-green.
It was the same reason Ichigo found games so badly designed, their colors making it strangely difficult to tell friend from foe. It was also the reason his attempts at fashion were in vain.
Because Ichigo was partially colorblind.
AN: AN: A HUGE thank you to Shield for beta-reading this for me! This also means we're officially halfway through the story. I'm also finishing moving, so once that's done I'll have more time for writing again. Huzzah! ;)