She's Like the Moon Chapter 14: Basketball & Dancing, a bleach fanfic

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She's Like the Moon, an xSilverWingsx fanfic

I don't blame you for being you, but you can't blame me for hating it.

-Fall Out Boy

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"All right!" said Ikkaku Madarame, brandishing an odd wooden sword toward his first period class. "Roll call." He was a tall, thin person with a shiny bald scalp that looked completely natural… and yet, he didn't seem too old. Weird. It was like Byakuya – nearing 50, but looking 30.

Rukia looked at Ichigo through her peripheral vision, and no surprise, he looked bored as hell. This pleased her, because he could never have fun when she wasn't having fun. Things just worked out that way. With a blue and white striped pencil, she doodled a row of diamonds on the desk as Mr. Madarame (pssh) called out the names.

"Rukia Kuchiki?" he finally said, raising an eyebrow.

"Here," she said tonelessly, dragging the eraser across the desk and making trails with it.

"Ichigo Kurosa—" he said, letting his paper go slack. "Isshin's son?"

Ichigo deadpanned. "I'm the one." Rukia hated to admit this in her head or elsewhere, but Ichigo could be cool when he wanted to be.

"Hm." Mr. Madarame made a mark on his attendance sheet and continued calling roll. Rukia wondered what was so special about Isshin – to her, he had just seemed like an annoying, overprotective father who had some weird obsession with his son's girlfriends – err, friends. "All right!" he said, tapping the desk with that wooden sword. "Rules then."

"I don't like know-it-alls, suck-ups, teachers' pets, overly pepped people, or people who draw all the time. And, I don't like that Archuleta person. Or… Obama." He shook his head.

"Obama won," Ichigo protested, raising his eyebrows.

"No… really?" said Mr. Madarame with a roll of his eyes. "I hadn't noticed." He met Ichigo's feigned confusion with acerbic sarcasm. "But if you'd like to be the teacher instead, that's fine."

Ichigo frowned and stared at his notebook.

"Anyway, gum … fine, but I don't want to see it swimming around in your saliva like a fish." Mr. Madarame opened a nearby drawer and unearthed what appeared to be an old Literature textbook. "And I don't… want to see this." He pulled it open with some difficulty, given the fact that pale pink ropes of gum had cemented the pages into one. "This is thanks to a particular… horror… by the name of Kuchiki, from the last school I taught at."

Rukia looked up. "Akamori?" that was weird. Akamori had never told Rukia about having done anything odd at school.

"Girl's a piece of work," Mr. Madarame said with a grimace.

Rukia sympathized greatly with him on this point. Akamori was nice-looking and all, but who could stand her? Other than Renji, that is… but he was defective in some manner.

"Okay. Another thing I hate. Phones ringing." His dark eyes were probing the room for any sign of this pet peeve. "If Billie Joe has to tell Sally about whatever, he can text her. End of story." Ichigo sniffed disdainfully but said nothing. Rukia again wondered about it – he didn't seem to call many people.

"Okay, well… then, you can leave, I don't want to look at you people," he said stoically, sitting down in a rolley chair Rukia wanted. "Get."

Next period, Rukia saw Ms. Ise again, scribbling away at an official-looking paper.

She did not look up when they entered, which was probably fine with everyone. Rukia had liked Mr. Madarame much better, by far, and class hadn't even started.

Ichigo folded his schedule in half, then in fourths, and slipped it in his shirt pocket.

"So, Rukia."

What do you want now, Ichigo?

"Yes?" she sighed.

"Your sister called me a few minutes back." He sounded completely nonchalant for something this unforeseen.

"Really?" Wow. Akamori had actually taken the time to make a phone call. "What did she have to say?" for now, Rukia couldn't think of any reason why her sister would even want to be involved with any part of the family.

"Yeah, she was just wondering what you were doing," he explained with a shrug.

"Oh." Since when did Akamori care about Rukia's school life? "How's Renji?"

"I dunno." Ichigo apparently hadn't being paying much attention to the phone call.

Toshiro sat nearby, his face brooding. His arms were bent so he could rest his chin on them, and his jaw was stiff as rigor mortis.

"Toshiro?" Rukia asked uncertainly.

"Yes?" replied he monotonously.

"Um… you okay? You've been acting weird." Yeah, weird. There's an understatement. Every time she'd seen Toshiro in the hallway his eyes had been cold, his entire being distant from her. Not that he was a warm person in general, but it had been magnified.

"I'm fine, Rukia." His tone closed the subject indefinitely.

"Al right, we'll start now," said Ms. Ise suddenly, slapping down her pen and scraping the chair across the floor as she stood so abruptly. "This is Algebra II. Basic for your level, but hard to master. Any questions?"

Everyone looked like they'd been lobotomized.

"Okay then. Now, we'll start with…" she pulled out a list of lessons and pored over it for a few moments before continuing, "proportions."

Aren't proportions… eighth grade? Rukia frowned as she took one of the blue papers and passed it back. It was about ten squares, a set on each side of the paper, each with its own individual problem in it.

"This is your Skill Sheet. I give them on Monday and expect them by Friday," Ms. Ise said tersely. "It's a zero if I don't get it then, and all of these are placed in your averages. Got that?"

A rumble of chatter erupted again, this time loud. For a moment there, she wanted to barf – an odd sensation, but now there wasn't time to… oh. Her stomach was making the strangest lurches, bending in complete disorder. Her throat was heavy and parched on the inside…

And it was a spectacular performance, the vomiting – a blend of her brightly colored Chappy candy and the smoothie as well created a cotton candy-esque mixture. Where was all of this coming from, anyway?

"Fuck!" Ichigo cursed, bending to get up. She felt his hand come down on her back… warm… "I, well, nurse…"

"Go," Nanao sighed. "Someone get up here and clean up, if you would be so kind…"

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"Ur…" Rukia moaned, feeling a foamy blob of something beneath her small body. This is worse than Ouran reruns… make it stop…

"So, she got sick in class?" said a gentle voice distantly. Rukia wanted to know who was talking about her but didn't have the strength – pathetic as it sounded – to turn her head right now. Sick on the first day?

Vomit Girl. A good caption for her yearbook picture.

"Yeah. Colorful stuff," said Ichigo's voice, and she jumped. Ichigo was here? Couldn't she be away from him for two seconds, please?! "What do I do?"

The person too some time to think. "Well, you could take her back to her dormitory for the day. Make sure she doesn't try and leave it, okay?"

Ichigo sounded exhausted. "I just carried her here. So I have to babysit the midget?"

He'd carried her. Hm. Of course, she had known he was strong, but… why?

This was added to her subconscious list of questions involving the obnoxious strawberry.

"Babysit her? I suppose so, if that's how you'd like to say it," the woman said, sounding indifferent to Ichigo's choice of words. "I would say she's got the flu. It is autumn, after all."

Ichigo sighed darkly. "Okay. Thanks." The sound of light footsteps began clearly and began to pitter-patter away, until they were gone completely. Rukia squeezed her lips together. If I say something, I'll spray this office with more smoothie. The thought didn't appeal to her, and she kept silent. A glaring quiet passed, pertaining to her fear of vomiting and his stubbornness.

"Mr. Kurosaki? You should take her back now," said the gentle voice distantly, and Rukia calmed a little. To be off this mushy whatever-it-was and into her bed was a warm thought.

"Yeah," Ichigo said blankly, and Rukia let one of her eyes slide open. Ichigo, standing against a white brick wall with the ghastly pink substance in a warped pattern across his white shirt. Guilt crushed her for a second; didn't he only have one uniform? Damn flu. "Rukia?"

To show that she heard, Rukia settled for making a guttural noise in the back of her throat.

"Let's go," he said, and she moaned inwardly. Moving her body would most likely result in an explosion of vomit all over what she figured was the nurse's office. But then she felt the warm arms again, and her body leaving the mushy something, and the inner noise was ultimately qualmed. "Damn. You dead or something?" She moaned.

"Guess not," Ichigo said, and she felt his feet hit the ground. T-t-t-t-t. It shook her belly.

"Ichigo...go.." she protested. He sighed and, ... she felt it on her neck. Warm and minty. Ichigo smell. For a second it stunned her into submission. But then his pace slowed and she was comfortable... as if there were no viruses having a soirée in her stomach.

After a long time, she heard the happy beep of the dormitory's ID Key. Rukia hadn't known she'd been so sick as to lose track of time so severely, but then again nothing really surprised her nowadays. She felt the trump of his feet across the wooden floor, and then across the carpet... and then the warm arms released her. Under her was something much softer than the mushy thing in the nurse's office... with one peek she knew it was her bed. Her amethyst eyes stroked upward, reaching a tired-looking Ichigo.

"Go to sleep," he commanded darkly.

She blinked lethargically. "Ichigo, I --"

"Rukia," he sighed, shuffling across the room and plopping down on his own bed. For some reason her surging feeling from earlier that summer repeated itself... "What the hell did you eat?"

"I... Chappy, smoothie..." she felt the need to burp. But not in front of Ichigo... he'd make a really weird face.

"Well... whatever happens happens I guess," Ichigo said morosely. "Like I said earlier. You've got some really bad luck."

It's almost as bad as Bella from Twilight.

"Guess so..."

"So," he said quietly. "What's up with that?"

"Dunno..."

"Huh."

It was quiet, then, for a little while. Rukia sat and let her sickness festoon around in her stomach, her eyelids heavy and crashing in on themselves. Ichigo watched her, eyes dark and probing, but she could not see. Why the hell did Rukia have to get sick? It should've been Hitsugaya or somebody less important.

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Later that day, Toshiro was in the hallway. Simply. He was waiting for PE, having had no intention of going to Chinese. What reasons would he have for studying such a language? Toshiro had no intention of moving to a communist nation. Apparently his aunt hadn't thought of that. So now he had decided to lean next to the water fountain and tap away at his cell phone, wondering why it still functioned. Hadn't his ... his mother been paying the bill?

He snapped the phone shut as the bell permeated his eardrums like a screaming child, and slipped it into his pocket. With a glance at the map he found that the gymnasium was just down the hallway, through matching white doors. He was the first one inside.

It was large with a dark-wood floor that looked more like some form of studio than a gym. Nonetheless he sat, cross legged, on the floor silently. One by one students milled inside, chattering on and on about idiotic things that probably wouldn't matter if they thought about them more deeply. He caught the words date and hair and cute. Of course this was all most teenagers thought of. Toshiro knew. He wasn't morbid or anything. Just wise for his years. Precocious.

"All right!" said a gravelly voice, apparently omitting from the stocky, dark haired man in the middle of the room. Toshiro remembered something Akamori had said. Gym teachers are idiots with whistles. And for once he believed his cousin. The guy looked tough but that seemed to be all. "I'm gonna partner you for basketball! Right off the bat. Good way to get to know people, eh?"

Toshiro blinked, frowning. Yes, definitely an idiot. But, when pointed to, he was a little more unconscious of his actions.

"You! White hair!"

"Pardon?" he murmured.

"Hitsugaya! Over there, with... Shuurin!"

The burly man with the almost black hair from earlier stepped forward. Toshiro remembered him as one of Senna's brothers. His cognac eyes were dark. "You any good with basketball?" he asked in a voice unlike the playful tone he'd used with his sister.

"Not basketball. Soccer," Toshiro replied monotonously.

"Well then. Soccer kid. I'm Hideki." Hideki... 'excellence'.

An odd name. "Toshiro." Son of the winter lion.

Nearby, he spotted her. Her hair was pulled up into a high ponytail by a malleable red ribbon, and she wore a gray T-shirt with black shorts and plain white tennis-shoes. Marring her still was the deep bruise. Otherwise, she seemed to be quite fit and strong – muscular but soft as well. And there was an undeniable cuteness to her.

"What're you looking at?" jabbed Hideki's voice.

"I – nothing," Toshiro ad-libbed quickly.

The dark haired guy narrowed his brown eyes. "Look. I'll try and make this as simple as I can. My sister's not gonna play that game with you."

Toshiro felt confused. "What?"

"She's not like that, soccer kid. I know people like you. Back off my sister or else," Hideki seethed menacingly.

He didn't reply; just swallowed hard. He knew why he couldn't look at Senna. He'd known since he'd first seen her. Something about the way Hideki kept his body angled in the direction of his sister reminded him of Hiroko and her insecurity. Toshiro felt his neck crane downward, the way it always did when he was upset.

"So." Hideki threw a basketball, and somehow Toshiro caught it expertly. "Trying out for soccer?"

The smaller man looked up. "Is there a team?"

Hideki shrugged. "Yeah, there is..."

Toshiro thought it over. Soccer, when he'd been free to practice, had always been his forte. He was small and lean and ran quickly. Plus... being on some form of team might earn him friends. "I suppose so."

Hideki arched a dark brow. "You suppose so? What's up with that?"

"All right, I'll do it," Toshiro decided.

"My kinda man," Hideki said with a nod. "Basketball, soccer, football, volleyball, archery, flags and cheerleading --" he rolled his eyes, "all have tryouts tonight. Meet you here? I'll teach ya how to break into the snack machine."

"You know already?"

"Sure. First thing I do at a new school is check the machines. At least one always has a glitch." He and Toshiro began to pass the ball back and forth, and it slammed into the white-haired boy's chest. "Sorry. Guess I don't know my own strength, ah?"

Toshiro kneaded his ribs.

"...Mm."

"Hideki!" called Senna. Toshiro's stomach did a back flip that could rival the Chinese Olympic Medalists. She jogged over lithely and stopped, violet hair swaying, in front of her brother. "Hey. I'm tired. Water for me?" she asked childishly, but in a good way. Toshiro realized he must look extremely stupid just holding on to a basketball like this.

Hideki rolled his eyes. "C'mon, girl. Don't be lazy."

Senna expanded her eyes and puckered her lips. "Please?"

"I'll get it," Toshiro said without thinking.

Hideki's eyes flared.

Shit. Can I be any more ignorant?

Senna stopped her begging tirade and focused her large orbs on Toshiro. "Huh? Hi!" she flashed bright teeth. "I'm Senna!"

He was momentarily dazed. "Toshiro."

"Son of the winter lion, huh? That's what it means? Cool!" Senna placed a finger to her mouth. "But I wonder. Is your dad anything like a winter lion?"

Toshiro felt himself smile – a tiny smile. "Sort of." If it made her happy... In a way, she reminded him of Alice in Wonderland, from the nursery rhyme. Somewhat bored by solitary life and looking for something better.

Hideki, he noticed, didn't seem as angry as when Senna had first arrived. His eyes were somewhat relaxed but still on edge, his tightly pressed lips loose. That's right, eat your words. I mean no harm, jock, Thought Toshiro devilishly.

"Uhm, Toshi?" said Senna.

He found himself befuddled.

"Toshi?"

"It's a good name for you!" she decided suddenly. "I name people... but only when the new name sounds cute!" she said, as if this were the rule of thumb.

"If you say so," he replied.

"Toshiro, water," Hideki reminded stonily.

"Mmm, I don't want any!" his sister decided, shaking her head with a smile. "Because there's no time! Ne!"

And, at that second, the bell rang. For some reason Toshiro felt pangs of pain as he heard it.

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"Hey, Rukia, I'm turning on the radio," Ichigo said, standing next to the stereo near the window. "You mind?"

Rukia, whose sickness had subsided a while ago, shrugged. "Whatever you want..." she was currently engrossed in Louis Sachar's Holes. She'd found it packed with her things – among all of her other books Toshiro had shoved in her bag. He had a passion for reading, a trait they shared.

"I should've left you at the nurse's," he said, fiddling with the dial. Tidbits of random songs buzzed through the room. "I swear, Rukia. It's like you're my daughter or something."

"Mm," she murmured, biting down on a piece of chocolate.

"Never mind," he said, finally stopping the wheel and sighing as an upbeat song started. Rukia vaguely remembered this song from earlier that summer, June maybe. Akamori had been in love with it, and it was a good song. Ichigo seemed to be enjoying it a little, his face relaxed as he sprawled out over his bed.

Waking up at the start of the end of the world,
But it's feeling just like every other morning before,
Now I wonder what my life is going to mean if it's gone

The cars are moving like a half a mile an hour
And I started staring at the passengers who're waving goodbye
Can you tell me what was ever really special about me all this time?

The tempo increased tenfold, Rukia's favorite part of all songs. She forgot entirely about the book she was – or had been – reading, snapping it shut and munching on her chocolate. She crossed her legs and sat Indian-style, nodding her head in tune to it.

I believe the world is burning to the ground
Oh well I guess we're gonna find out
Let's see how far we've come
Let's see how far we've come
Well I believe it all is coming to an end

One of Ichigo's eyes slid open, taking in Rukia bobbing her head to the music. She looked so happy for someone who had barfed a little while ago – but hey. She was Rukia, a wunderkind. "You like this song?"

"What?!" she yelled over the music.

"I said, do you like this song!?" he bellowed.

"Yeah!" she said, looking somewhat gleeful.

Oh well, I guess, we're gonna pretend,
Let's see how far we've come
Let's see how far we've come

Ichigo felt his feet moving back and forth. Oh, God no. He didn't like to dance and was not going to. No, no. NO DANCING! Damn. He was fighting with himself over dancing. But of course a man wouldn't dance to the radio, unlike Rukia... who was doing some sort of swing dance to the music, on her feet near the stereo.

I think it turned ten o'clock but I don't really know
And I can't remember caring for an hour or so
Started crying and I couldn't stop myself
I started running but there's no where to run to

"Ichigo!" she said, raising her eyebrows. "Do you like music at all!?"

"Yes!" he rolled his eyes, "I just don't dance!!"

"Killjoy!" she called.

I sat down on the street took a look at myself
Said where you going man you know the world is headed for hell
Say your goodbyes if you've got someone you can say goodbye to

Ichigo sighed. Rukia thinking of him as a killjoy, for some reason, was not an appealing thought. He wondered why she valued music so much. Did she at all, or was she trying to make a fool out of him? Wait, why would he care what she thought? She was a midget! A MIDGET WITH AN OCTOPUS HEAD AND LITTLE FEET!

"Ichigo!" said midget shrieked.

He sighed yet again. "What!?"

"Just get up!" she moaned, turning down the dial. "I'm tired of your killjoyness!"

"That's not a word, first of all."

"So?"

"SO, everyone needs to have fun," she Rukia said presumptuously. "Besides, how often do we get to stay home? I don't think we do!"

Ichigo murmured his dissent. "Rukia, please."

I believe the world is burning to the ground
Oh well I guess we're gonna find out
Let's see how far we've come
Let's see how far we've come

Ichigo stretched out on his bed, but in the opposite direction this time. He was tired of listening to her nag him – but he stopped thinking about it. Rukia had some rhythm. Weirdly enough. Who knew a short girl who was anything but graceful could dance so well.

And he didn't notice when the song ended. "Kurosaki!"

"Huh?" he blinked.

"You okay?" she asked, arching a delicate black eyebrow. Ichigo looked so weird right now. "You look... weird," she decided.

He gave wry smile. "Whatever, midget..."

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Hoo. Finally. I've been battling writer's block for a little while now. But at least I got it done. The song is How Far We've Come by Matchbox 20 (or Twenty, if you're a stickler for stuff like that. I wanted to put a song in this chap :D anyway... check out my new IchiRuki story, Rhapsody. It's cool... sorta. Well. I liked writing it and um... reviews'd be awesome!

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