She's Like the Moon, an xSilverWingsx fanfic
Sing with me, sing for the year. Sing for the laughter, sing for the tear. Sing with me, if it's just for today; maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away. –Aerosmith
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, though if I did would make Ichigo smile all the time because he deserves to.
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"Every day should be like this," Orihime mused quietly as she pulled another sticky Popsicle from its wrappings. "Spending time with your two best friends!" she clapped a hand on Rukia's shoulder, causing the smaller girl to squeal in pain. "Oh, I'm sorry! I forgot about your sunburn."
"It's fine," Rukia insisted as she bit down hard on her tongue for some release. "What really gets me about this is the fact that you two are perfectly fine and you didn't wear any sunscreen at all." She eyed their stark white skin with envy, and then glanced at her crimson arms. How unfair of Mother Nature.
"Anyway, how did your meeting with Ichigo go?" Orihime questioned, her eyes alight with mischief. Rukia looked over with renewed vigor.
"Huh?" she blundered at the sudden mention of her new friend's name. "Oh, um… it was fine." It had taken her a moment to recall the morning's events.
"Did you kiss him?" Orihime giggled, and her red hair swayed bouncily as her personality.
Rukia bristled immediately, her features dramatically edged. "No way! Ichigo is a nice person and all, but he's just too… he's obnoxious!" she insisted, only to prompt smirks from the two girls. This was just like one of those moronic chick flicks where the guy and the girl start off as enemies and then immediately get together. How pathetic…"What!?"
"This is the classic scenario. She says, 'You're the most obnoxious man I've ever met', and then… then they fall madly in love!" Orihime said dreamily, gazing toward the sky with a romantic expression. Rukia could not believe the nerve of her! Just because she and Ichigo were friends, her other friends were insisting it would evolve into more! Well, these friends could not be more wrong!
"That's not the classic scenario, Orihime. You just think so because you watch too many soap operas," Tatsuki put in, tossing her Popsicle stick into the trashcan by her closet door.
"I'm only fifteen years old and my female intuition is already razor sharp!" (A/N: Yes, that's a real Orihime line. I felt like putting it in there.) "Ichigo likes you; I can see it in his big, beautiful brown eyes!"
"Well then, you need glasses," Rukia countered, "Because Ichigo's eyes are not beautiful." They were just amber colored, a common eye color among red haired people. Some blonde people even had them. So what was so special about Ichigo? Nothing, he was just an overly tall cat-loving person who saved peoples' lost undies.
Orihime gave an over-exaggerated gasp, so heavy that her face went an alarming shade of violet. "How could you say such a thing? Everything about Ichigo is beautiful!" she seemed to be imagining him as she stared at a fluffy cloud far off in the distance.
"'Hime, if you like him so much why do you keep trying to stick Rukia with him?" Tatsuki asked incredulously as she tied up her Nikes.
"Because he likes her!" Orihime replied, balling her hand into a fist and holding it. "I'll do whatever I can to get them to be a couple! I'll work harder than I've ever worked!"
"Be prepared to never retire, because of one thing: I. Do. Not. Like. Ichigo. Kurosaki," Rukia said firmly, reaching for more lotion to coat on her already slathered arms. She had only met Ichigo two days ago, and Orihime was already trying to set her up with him. Well, it was Orihime after all, and with Orihime there had to be friends with a strong patience resolve—unlike Rukia, but she would just have to deal with the redhead's soundly romantic point of view.
"Fine…" her taller friend reclined in a soft leather chair that sat just beneath Tatsuki's plate glass window. "Maybe you and Ichigo shouldn't be together."
"Thank you," Rukia sighed, happy that her friend had finally given in. "Finally you're making some sense."
"Don't count your chickens before they hatch, Rukia. She'll change her mind in fifteen seconds," Tatsuki advised smartly as she began to stuff her gym bag with water bottles. "Anyone wanna go for a run?"
"I could go for one," Rukia said with a shrug. At least she would get away from her psycho matchmaker of a best friend. She grabbed her black Reeboks and slipped them on; thankfully, she had bought the ones that didn't have laces. Tatsuki was at the front door already when Orihime was screeching.
"Wait! Wait, I need my shoes on too!"
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As the three turned the corner of Samichi and Minami, Rukia stopped for a moment to catch her breath along the sidewalk. Orihime trailed about a hundred yards behind her, because she was "top-heavy" and was not accustomed to long distance running.
Rukia didn't like running very much either, but she needed some stress release. Tatsuki was a track star, so naturally she hadn't stopped to breathe since they'd begun. The shortest of the three, Rukia would be the slowest if she had anything… in the same area where Orihime's body was… err, plentiful.
"We're heading over by Urahara's!" Tatsuki shouted, "I have to pick up Ururu!" Tatsuki's cousin worked part time for Mr. Urahara, a lazy and rather weird shopkeeper who always wore a wide rimmed hat with green and white stripes.
A moment later, the three arrived in front of the shop, and all the blinds were down as usual. Urahara was a hermit in all senses. Tatsuki was the first to approach the door, but before she could even reach the knob, a burly man in a blue apron greeted her.
"Tatsuki! We've been wondering how you've been!" Tessai exclaimed, and Rukia was surprised by his kindness. She had expected him to be the silent type who could snap your neck in two seconds.
"Hey, Tessai," she said casually. "Ururu here?" she craned her neck to see behind Tessai into the store. A distant voice reached them, a persuasive businesslike one. Mr. Urahara held a phone to his ear, the chord entwined throughout his thin fingers.
"Hi, Tatsuki," Ururu said in her small voice from behind her long black bangs, appearing suddenly from behind the door. "I'm coming, okay?" her big blue eyes were always timid.
"Fine," Tatsuki said.
"Well, Ichigo, it depends on what your dad thinks about it. Yeah, I know the gas prices are skyrocketing. You don't even have a learner's permit! Call me back later or stop by the store. Either one is fine. No need to get so irritated! I'm just a shopkeeper, cut me some slack!" Urahara said, scratching his chin. "Okay, that'll be good, I suppose. Bye Ichigo." Rukia heard the click of the receiver being put back onto the base. "Hi, Ms. Arisawa!" he turned to the three of them with an ear-to-ear smile.
"Mr. Urahara, hi." Tatsuki ran a hand through her hair. "I'm here to get Ururu."
"Her shift's not over," Mr. Urahara glanced at his watch, "for another half hour… but I guess I could always make Jinta work overtime…" he seemed to be pondering this deeply as Ururu picked up her blue backpack and stood beside her cousin. "Ah, well. See you later!" he winked at the group, and then turned around. Rukia shrugged.
"We should go now, guys." She glanced around at the many dark boxes that inhabited the back of the shop with a suspicious expression. "My idiot dad is going to freak about me being here…"
"Who is your dad, then?" said Mr. Urahara, appearing out of nowhere. Rukia jumped and looked over her shoulder so fast that she almost cricked her neck. Reeling from the sudden question, it took a little while for her to remember her answer.
"Oh! Uh, Byakuya Kuchiki, s-sir…"
Mr. Urahara's pale face fell into surprise for a moment before cracking into a grin. "Ha-ha… I went to high school with him…" he laughed silently for a moment, as if remembering some long-forgotten joke. "He was a good friend of mine, seriously. So hot-headed, you could barely get the guy to sit down."
Rukia did a triple-take. "Which Byakuya Kuchiki are you talking about?"
"The seventeen year old one," Urahara chuckled. "So he's different now?"
"Yeah," the three said at the same time. Rukia went red, vines of fiery embarrassment ripping through her face. Was her dad that bad? Sure, he was a total freak about honor, pride and the usual stereotypical stuff, but…
"I showed up, Hat n' Clogs, now give me my money," said a strong, clear familiar voice. Rukia turned around to see Ichigo Kurosaki in a white tank top and jeans. A black hoodie was hanging over his shoulder as well. He wore boots on his feet and a demanding expression on his face. Rukia didn't see how he could wear black jeans in the middle of June, and was even more surprised to see him again. This was her first time seeing him in person since that day at the pool, and they were already friends. Ichigo was showing up everywhere. At the pool, his letter in the mail, here at Urahara store…
Mr. Urahara jumped. "Oho, Ichigo! I didn't expect you to come five minutes after I hung up!" surprise colored his otherwise measly voice as he clapped a hand to his forehead. Ururu cowered at the sight of Ichigo, someone easily three feet taller than her. She hid behind Tessai with a terrified expression, and Rukia was immediately infuriated.
"I didn't expect you to owe this much money, damn it!" Ichigo said, pounding his fist into the doorframe and missing Rukia's face by an inch.
"Excuse me, watch it!" Rukia said icily, frowning. Ichigo finally took notice of her, and his eyebrows rose in surprise.
"Dwarf? What're you doing here?" he asked innocently with a smirk.
"None of your business… and why are you harassing Urahara?" she demanded, rounding on the much taller man. "He didn't do anything to you!"
"He owes us fifteen hundred dollars!" Ichigo barked, his eyes stabbing Urahara. "Can't pay the rent this month unless he coughs it up today!"
"Oh, so scaring the guts out of Ururu is just a bonus!?" Rukia snapped, indicating the frightened girl. Ichigo's expression softened ever so slightly, and he bit his lip. "You idiot! Idiot, idiot, idiot!" she was facing Urahara now. "Why didn't you pay Ichigo's family back?!"
"I forgot to! What's a man to do…?" Urahara said quietly, striding across the shop to a tackle box that rested on the counter. With one swift movement, he pulled a rusty silver key from his pocket and unlocked the box, which swung open to reveal piles of money. He pulled out fifteen hundred-dollar bills and counted them out, and came back over to the door. Ichigo did not hesitate to snatch the money.
"Finally," he said blankly, shoving the cash into his pocket. "I'm watching you." He gave Urahara one last grimace before slamming the shop door behind him. There was a long silence, Ururu standing behind Tessai, Rukia's blue eyes big as she stared at the door, Tatsuki looking solemn and Orihime wearing a similar expression as her best friend's cousin.
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Rukia didn't waste another moment here. With one backward glance, she opened the door and walked out after Ichigo, who was already about halfway down the street. His hands rested casually in his pockets and he looked straightforward into the day, which was growing overcast.
She had to jog to keep up with his long strides. Soon Rukia was walking alongside Ichigo, who was either indifferent to her presence or simply ignoring it. His brows were furrowed, like they always were, and she copied. Maybe he wouldn't be so pissy with her if she tried to be more like him.
The clouds grew darker by the minute, and Rukia realized that Ichigo was not on the way to his house. He had taken an alternate route down a narrower street through the trees, and out of sheer curiosity, she followed him. As the forest got thicker, Rukia walked behind Ichigo due to the narrow path. His shock of bright orange hair deeply contrasted with the earthy green trees that stood high above them.
The black haired maiden shivered as the drops of rain began to fall down off the leaves. They stung her raw, red skin with a burning intensity. "Mmfh…" she breathed in discomfort. Every second the rain grew harder as she walked on through the humid afternoon. The moment fortified as Ichigo stopped in his tracks and turned to face her, globules of water dripping from the spikes of his hair onto his face. His hand darted from his pocket to his shoulder, where with quick fingers he grabbed and then thrust the jacket at Rukia.
"Put it on. You look like a drowned rat," he said.
"Thanks," Rukia said sarcastically, slipping the overlong shirt over her shoulders. She was immediately incased in a warm little shell and a nice aroma. It was like shaving cream and freshly mown grass, a boy smell. "You're gonna die out here in that tank top."
"I'll be fine," he insisted, turning back around to continue through the forest. Rukia gave a small smile and followed, wondering where Ichigo's destination could possibly be. He didn't seem to mind the fact that she was following.
"So why did Urahara borrow money from you?" she wondered aloud, trying to make casual conversation. It was better than walking in silence, right?
"God knows. The freak probably had unpaid prostitu—err, women," Ichigo said, amusement obvious in his voice. "I don't really care. The only thing I wanted was my money back, I don't even wanna know what he did with it in the beginning." The orange haired man stretched his arms skyward before continuing, "What were you doing there, anyway?"
"Tatsuki's cousin is Ururu, the little girl who almost peed herself when you walked in," Rukia replied quietly.
"Yeah, but what am I supposed to do? I can't control my height." The water from his face dripped from his neck, molding all his muscles into a precise sculpture. Drops fell down into his already skintight shirt, welding the fabric tightly to his body. Rukia could see every line, every part of his physique. Her ankles b and it wasn't because of the rain.
"That's—that's true, but you can control your temper, Ichigo." Rukia rolled up the sleeves on the jacket once. Twice. Three times. God, he had long arms. Ichigo said nothing as they approached a little clearing where the rainfall thickened profoundly.
A wrought iron gate stood there, and it was slightly absurd in this rural environment. It was ancient and a golden sign with a message engraved in cursive was welded to the center bar. St. Younha Memorial Graveyard. With thin fingers, Ichigo pushed the gate open and held it. Rukia wondered brainlessly why for a moment until he gestured for her, slightly irritated.
Stupid, stupid! Inner Rukia snapped as she followed with a blank expression for the gate to creak closed behind her. Ichigo went left among the graves and walked soundlessly among them, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Rukia looked at the ground until he immediately stopped in his tracks in front of a tall grave. It was a dark stone, with a lighter colored plaque on it.
………………………………………
—Masaki Kurosaki—
April 2, 1974—August 31, 2002
Beloved mother and wife
………………………………………
Rukia's breath caught in her throat as she read this grave. Ichigo's face was stone cold as he stared at it, raindrops causing his hair to hang damply over the sides of his head. His jaw was locked in a rigor-mortis, superglue like mold and his eyes were darker than their usual amber color as they were locked indefinitely on the grave.
"Why'd you come here today?" he demanded, his voice awfully hard and callous before he turned back to Rukia with daggers in his eyes.
"I was wondering if you were okay," Rukia said, pokerfaced. "You seemed mad."
"I was mad," he growled. "I was, so what?"
"When someone's upset, it's… human nature to want to help," she replied, her voice growing firmer with each passing second. "I thought you knew that."
"What if the other person doesn't want your effin' help?" Ichigo snapped, baring his teeth. "Did you ever consider that, Little Miss Psychiatrist?"
"Hey! That's not something you say to a girl!" she scoffed, messing with a piece of her hair that had stuck to her forehead because of the rain. Rukia stood up and suddenly felt like a giant, like she was equal to Ichigo.
"Chivalry died, so don't count on any Romeo stuff! I'm not that kind of guy so just get your nose out of my business!"
"I don't…" for once, Rukia was out of smart little quips to retort with. It was like time was going to end as she shrank back to her normal height and sighed in defeat. "You know… I don't mind if you don't want my help. It's okay." She curved her pale lips into a whitewashed smile, as Ichigo deadpanned right back at her.
"What?" he said with much emphasis.
"I said that I don't mind. Do whatever you want to and I won't…"
"You're not gonna bug me about it?" Ichigo questioned, raising one eyebrow at his newest friend.
"Within reason." She gave a kind smile. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." The rain was still pounding the trees around them, but Rukia didn't care right now. There was a shared silence where they both stared off into different directions; Rukia off into the forest, Ichigo at his mother's grave.
"How did she die?" Rukia wondered aloud, scorning herself inside a second later. Ichigo's shoulders tensed slightly, but otherwise his somber expression did not change. He pressed his lips together for a second before shoving his hands back inside his pockets.
"My mom, she used to take me to karate at the dojo, right? Back when I was nine."
Rukia's heart leapt as he decided to tell the story. "The one down by Hariri's Restaurant?"
"Yeah. The first person I ever fought was your best friend."
"Orihime?" Rukia asked in disbelief, trying to imagine Orihime fighting anyone with an amazed expression. She got a mental image of the redhead bloody and crying on a stretcher and turned back to Ichigo with an astounded look.
Ichigo's lips quivered into a smile. "No, Tatsuki."
"Oh." Rukia went pink. "Yeah. She's aggressive. How'd that work out for you?" Rukia was really beginning to get into this story, even though Ichigo had barely even started. She took a seat on a dead tree stump nearby that was covered in leaves.
"She… kicked my ass," Ichigo admitted, looking down at the ground. "It embarrassed me. I was a little kid then, so naturally I started to cry."
"I could understand that," Rukia said sympathetically. "Once I accidentally used Tatsuki's baton trophy to unclog my toilet and she put me in the hospital for a month."
Ichigo looked up with an amused expression. "Really?
"It did look a lot like a plunger to a ten year old girl." She bristled at the memory.
"Anyway," he continued, his voice dropping a little lower. "My mom picked me up this one day from the dojo. I remember exactly what she wore that day: a blue shirt, and blue pants with grey stripes." He stopped for a second to swallow. "We walked home that day, and I was hungry. I told my mom about it, and she smiled and said we could stop to eat. About halfway there we noticed some people fighting over a pack of smokes. My mom and I passed by there, and I remember… hearing the gunshot and my mom yelling. That bullet was gonna hit me but she ran in front of me and took it herself." He stopped short on self, and Rukia's stomach felt like it was going to do The Worm.
"She took it for you," Rukia said quietly, her eyes big as she realized how little she had actually known about Ichigo. Before he had just been the butthole who yelled and never smiled. Now he was the boy who had lost his mother and had never gotten over it.
"I walked around town for three days after the police came and said they were taking me 'back.' I didn't know they actually meant to go home, and without my mom, I felt like someone was out to get me then, or hurt me because it was my fault."
"It wasn't your fault."
"I was the one who insisted we stop," he said stiffly, his face growing angrier.
"Ichigo, it was not your fault. These things happen and there's nothing to do about it! Stop being so… so…" she could not find a word to describe it. "I think… you care too much about what other people think."
"I don't give a rat's ass," Ichigo said. "Why does everyone think there's some hidden agenda? I'm me and that's that. So what if you…" his amber eyes seemed troubled as he looked off back onto the trail from whence they'd came, his lips forming a hard line as Rukia stared relentlessly at him. "Look."
"Huh?" Rukia had been paying attention to his hair and wondering why it stood up so much.
"I'm going home." His tone was surprisingly placid. Rukia shuddered from the rain and sank deeper into the warm jacket as she listened to the soft sound of his retreating footsteps.
The rain clearly was not going to stop tonight. She glanced once more at Masaki's grave before heaving a sigh and following her orange haired friend back through the thick foliage for the second time this evening.
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Rukia slid the door open slowly, noiselessly to her again deserted home. Her parents were definitely up in the west wing, and Akamori didn't live here anymore. It was like a feverish, lonely existence in this house. Rukia clamped her hands to the ends of her hair and attempted to wring out any stray water; a huge puddle was created on the floor. I'm surprisingly absorbent, she thought pleasantly.
Within the fireplace walls, red-hot flames bathed the carpet in a tepid pool of heat. She ran her fingers along it and they stung slightly from their frozen temperature. Nevertheless, it still felt nice.
"You're home," said an acerbically sharp voice, echoing from the kitchen. Rukia turned to see her father Byakuya Kuchiki, who wore a black suit and his glasses at five in the afternoon. He sat at the table with paper and a pencil, which seemed to be under dangerous pressure in his strong fingers.
"Yes," Rukia said simply, bringing her knees up to rest against her chest and rested her chin on them, relaxing in the spectrum of heat the fireplace siphoned. "Did you already have dinner?"
"No, your mother isn't well. She's ordering Chinese or something of the like," he said, his hand suddenly moving gracefully across the paper. Byakuya had just begun to seem peaceful when he looked up suddenly. "I didn't buy that shirt. Where did you get it?" he questioned, his eyes on Ichigo's jacket. Rukia did not realize that he was speaking to her for a moment there.
"Oh! Um, it's Orihime's." What a stupid lie! She could have at least said it was Ryou's. Ryou was a girl in Rukia's class who was at least 6'3. She was a track star. "She let me borrow it because of the rain."
"Orihime has definitely grown immensely over the past week," Byakuya eyed the jacket, and Rukia took in his face. It was paler than usual. "Where is your other shirt, the one you were wearing before?"
"It's under this one," she replied, glad that she could come up with a good excuse. Needless to say, he wouldn't be too happy with her borrowing Ichigo's clothes.
"Hmm…" Byakuya turned back to the paper he was writing. "Go and see your mother for a bit. She has been worried." He set the pencil down and picked up a glass of water that sat nearby, taking a swig from it and stood as he did so. Rukia realized that everyone in her family had a perfect body at this moment—except for herself.
Byakuya was tall and thin, but had sculpture like muscles and a perfect face with hard, imperial features. He had a straight, thin nose and a thin upper lip. He had long black hair, the one thing that suggested any lenience about his personality. Akamori was a younger female version of her father, but with brown eyes and darker skin. She was a bit rash and indecisive, though, unlike him. Hisana wasn't tall, but she wasn't a midget like Rukia. Her face was oval and her features were small, the appearance Byakuya preferred in women. Maybe he had a self-hate complex. But what was there to hate? He came from a rich family and had a beautiful wife who basically worshipped him.
Rukia stretched her legs by climbing the stairs; they were a little stiff from shuffling behind Ichigo in the forest. She walked past her room and Akamori's to a pair of double doors that were each engraved with a large K, like many other things in the house. She knocked.
"Come in, child," said her mother's quiet voice.
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Akamori fiddled with a loose thread on her shirt as the silent car ride went on, not wanting to look up because she was ashamed. Renji had seen her awful father and his narrow-minded Noble family nonsense, and he probably regretted ever going out with her now.
Today she wore a pair of worn old blue jeans and a black sweater, worn in mourning for her previous life in the Kuchiki family. Hisana, Byakuya and Rukia were behind her now.
"So do you want me to torch his house?" said Renji's voice from the driver's seat, a hint of amusement coloring it. "I would."
"I don't want to be an accomplice to murder. But thank you, Renji," Akamori said quietly as she lay across the back seat, her pale lids resting lightly over her cognac eyes. "Anyway, there has to be a way to get my stuff over to your house for free."
"What about your sister?" Renji suggested as he turned onto the interstate; the pair of shark teeth hanging from the rearview mirror jingled. "You said she never has anything to do, why don't we ask her?"
"She won't work for free, I can tell you that much," Akamori informed him icily, resting her face in the crook of her arm. "I've got fifty bucks in my back pocket."
"There you go," Renji said, pleased. "My cousin could help us out some too." He looked at his girlfriend's furrowed brow in the mirror with a soft grin.
"I guess. Who is this cousin?" Akamori grumbled as she tried to get comfortable on the rough fabric of the seats.
"He's just a kid, but he's pretty strong for an obnoxious little…" he broke off as another driver pulled into the lane in front of him. "Anyway, his name's Ichigo. Hire him."
"Ichigo and Rukia. Got it."
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Finally! Forty six hundred words again! Well, I am happy because my story gets huge! I love it! Anyway, I hope you liked this and stuff; it was very hard keeping them in character! Byakuya is extremely difficult. Thanks to all my reviewers so far: rukiaichigo15chappy, Tituba3, Berry M., and bleachfan. You people are all awesome, and I'll review your stories in return! I'll try and keep the chapters coming along. I'm rambling again… well, until next time,
xSilverWingsx