First, I would like to give a wholehearted thanks to all of last chap's reviewers! All of you with accounts have been favorited! (Unless I was being a dimwit as I so often do. If this is the case, let me know!) In the meantime, ah, Ichigo and Rukia have reached Christmas. Yep. It's Christmastime! (In She's Like the Moon, anyway. If I were a faster writer, it would be February in SLTM, but I am not.) This chapter is going to rock your socks off, I'm sure. :D
She's Like the Moon, an xSilverWingsx fanfic
I'll always look out for you.
That's what I'll do.
-Coldplay
Hisana Harumei
April 1990
I'd never been a paranoid girl. I was open to other people, courteous and sweet, but Mr. Kuchiki was making me uncomfortable—he had been avoiding me since our arrival in Saitama. I knew it was because of what he had told me before, and… I felt inhuman for not having any feelings in return. I mean, how was I supposed to? He was twenty years older than me. Though he was cold, he was nice… and gorgeous, and rich. 'Rich' didn't have any benefits for me—I had been poor my entire life and I could deal with it. But it was just the fact that he felt sorry for me that made me mad. I wasn't his secretary because I needed the money—my mother had a full time job—it was that I wanted the money. I planned to be financially independent from the get-go.
I was sitting on my bed, replying to a letter my mom had sent me.
Hisana, it had said, I hope you're having fun in Saitama. Have you visited the ocean yet? It's nice there, you would look very pretty with a tan. Not that you're not beautiful. :) Your father and I have missed you back here. How is Mr. Kuchiki? I sincerely hope he's being good to you. If you're ever tired of being there or want to come home, you can hop right on the plane. We'll be here! Anyway, I'll have your school clothes ready when you get home. Your classmates have been asking about you, and some of them think you're never coming back! Well, that would be terrible. But I know you. Much love. Mom.
So far, all I had was, Hi, Mom. I'm glad you took the time to write me, because I know you're busy with work
I hadn't even put a period at the end, my mind was so full. I felt emotionally fried. Today, I had planned to go out to the ocean and take a dip, but I was far too tired. I felt as though I was tangled up in a web that had been spun for me and only me.
I closed my box of stationary, but didn't put it in the drawer. I curled into a small ball on the surface of my bed and let my arms hang limp, knowing that I needed to shower. I was wearing my plain white nightgown and a pair of white tights to keep me warm—nights were chilly here. I smelled terrible. I buried my face in the covers and tried to think of some happier days—like yesterday. Mr. Kuchiki had taken me to see the opera… another thing I shouldn't have accepted from him.
I sighed deeply. Even though I was being overdramatic, it seemed as if I couldn't help it. I needed to go away from here, somewhere… somewhere isolated. Like my own private island with bright white sand, big white skies… white oceans… White had always calmed me. I hadn't ever really figured out why, but it instilled a sense of being to me. As if white could bleach me, I wanted to be on my own. White, with nothing to taint.
Without another thought, I turned over and stared at the ceiling's pattern. Ellipse after ellipse. Into the nothingness, it seemed, it would move on…
I shook my head. Maybe a shower would calm my nerves.
With heavy legs I trudged across the room and to the chest of drawers, pulling out my white slacks and a big blue jacket. These would be good clothes for walking on the beach later after my nap. What a shame that I worried about what I was going to do later. At home, there was never a choice. It was always work.
After an effortless shower, I slipped into these clothes as well as my white flip flops. The sun had given Saitama a break today, so that was fine. I opened the door to a rush of ocean breeze, and I inhaled with pleasure. I'll be able to find peace, I hope.
A long dock ran across the beach and wound down to the water's edge. I shuffled across this dock for a long time, watching the gulls and the opalline clouds that floated by in the sky. When I reached the end, though, I found that I wasn't alone after all.
Mr. Kuchiki was in his suit and tie near the water, his hair moving slightly with the breeze. I was speechless by the sudden change of environment, since I'd usually only seen him around the office, but I knew that was hard on him. He turned as soon as I thought he would.
"Hello, Hisana," he said.
"Hello." I looked out at the swelling sea, unsure of what to do next. The water was a crisp blue-green today.
Apparently my boss didn't have anything to say either. His eyes watched the skyline. "A storm is coming," he said.
"It'll be good for the plant life," I allowed, looking up at the clouds. They did look a bit less pale to the east. I pushed my hands into my pockets and went on, "Thank you for taking me to the opera yesterday."
"It wasn't a problem. I don't know of many people your age who are interested in the theater," Mr. Kuchiki said softly.
"I love theater," I affirmed quietly.
"I could tell. You seemed excited by it."
I nodded.
"You needed some fresh air, I gather."
I blinked a little bit. "I was tired of being inside, yes. It gets lonely in there."
He sighed, a sound that was hardly a sound at all. "It does. I've found myself out here several times since we came."
"Me too," I confessed, looking at the water-swollen wood with cast eyes. It didn't strike me as odd that he was out here, really. He had just as many emotions as the next person, really, so… I didn't really want to share the place I had been coming to for freedom, but I would have to. "How was your meeting?"
"It was fine. We're stationed out here for the next month, according to the Board." He closed his eyes, opened them upon impact, and turned them on me. "Is that all right with you?"
I had gotten used to the beautiful eyes by now. "That's fine. Just as long as I don't have to park," I said, making a feeble attempt at humor. He turned away again and continued to stare at the sea as I cursed myself. When I finished, I watched it too. It was less turbulent now, a little softer to look at. A contented glaze slid over my eyes, and my hands autonomously went in my pockets. I wondered for a moment why I was so cold, but it was probably from my shower.
"Are your parents all right with you staying out here?" Mr. Kuchiki questioned.
I was confused. "Yeah. They signed the release, didn't they?"
His expression did not falter. "I meant, most parents would be very upset with a daughter who was leaving the prefecture to work for a man twenty years older than she."
That's what I had been thinking about that morning. I raised an eyebrow. "I don't see the problem with that, sir. Age is a number. Besides, it's just work. No harm done, right?" I broke off with a nervous chuckle, knowing I had already said too much.
Shockingly, he seemed a little… amused. "No harm done," he repeated, a small smile appearing on his delicate lips. I wanted to do something to make sure I wasn't dreaming, but I knew I wasn't, anyway. He was human, someone who smiled and laughed. It just took time.
"Anyway, if my mom did have a problem, well, up hers!" I exclaimed with a grin.
His smile intensified. "Hisana, you have an interesting sense of humor."
"I get that a lot," I said. It was true—my mother told me that I should be a comedian. Sadly, most comedians were unattractive. I was average, so nah. "Anyway, sir, what are we supposed to do for the rest of the vacation?"
"It is a vacation, so, I suppose we should just relax," he mused.
I pictured myself with one of those big metal boards that reflected light. People used them to tan a lot… anyway, I pictured myself lying on a striped beach chair with one of those unknown items.
The idea was surprisingly appealing.
"Relax. Right, I can do that." I smiled happily.
"I'm sure. There is a fireworks show, tonight at eight o'clock. Would you like to go?" when he asked me this time, he seemed a lot less formal than the night of the opera. It calmed me a lot.
"Sure. I'd appreciate that." Without meaning to, I smiled again. Kuchiki did the same, but his was less intense. Oh well. With him, anything meant a lot. Deciding that I'd laid it on a bit too thick, I turned my gaze to the sky. It was perfect firework weather—quiet and clear.
I found one answer; that even if I'm scared, even if I'm hurt,
I can say "I love you" to the person I love.
"Oh, Rukia, no! The golden garlands go on the doorway!" Orihime cried, chasing after her wee friend. Rukia stood on a large, tottering stool, and she still wasn't tall enough to reach the nail that she was supposed to put a wreath on. She turned her head for a split second only to have the wreath stolen from her and placed on easily by a suddenly-there Ichigo, who smirked.
"Hey," he said, "Leave the decorations to the grownups." Ichigo was wearing a pair of slim-fit jeans and a red sweater. He wore a green band around his wrist to complete the Christmas colors.
Rukia frowned and stepped off the stool. "I don't see why we have to help Toshiro with this dance, anyway. It's not like he doesn't have tall friends." She jammed her hands into the pockets of her Christmas dress. Uryu had made an outfit for everyone on the Dance Committee, much to their vexation. They looked like the movie Elf had thrown up on them, but she wasn't about to complain when he had nicely crafted this dress together. It was kind of cute, actually, but that was probably because of her stature. Orihime looked a little unnatural in it, having been unable to do the top two buttons, causing several nosebleeds in the halls. It wasn't like Rukia hadn't produced a fair amount of nosebleeds, but that was only because of her somewhat round derriere. That was the one good trait Akamori had not received.
December's dance had originally been scheduled on the 1st, but due to inclement weather it had been postponed - 24 days ahead. Christmas Eve was upon Karakura High School, and Rukia smiled in anticipation of all the gifts she would receive from her parents - and Ichigo. What would he get her? Just as Rukia was mulling this over, Ichigo called her attention to him.
"So, I have to go out tonight and buy friggin' tux," he said with a sigh. "Toshiro roped me into it. Who knew he had any fashion sense?"
"Who cares is the more important question. Toshiro just wants to look good for Momo." Rukia plopped down in one of the Committee's chairs and pulled out her cell phone, but there was nothing fresh there. Hisana had been lagging in her phone calls of late, as had her sister... but they had been running around town with colossal shopping carts, so there was no need for blame. Instead, Renji had been calling 24/7, harassing Rukia because she hadn't yet told Akamori what she wanted for Christmas. Rukia had taken to putting her phone on Ignore when he called.
"Momo?" Ichigo asked, his frown growing more evident. "Nah, I think he's taking that Shuurin girl. Senna." Ichigo's eyes were meditative. "Now that I think about it, she's kind of the only girl who isn't a foot taller than him. He lucked out."
"Yeah." Rukia shut her phone and looked at him. "What time is this dance tonight?"
Ichigo thought it over. "I think eight," he mumbled.
"Good," Rukia said, "This means I have time to try and call my dad. I need to go stay with them over break." She was speaking more to herself than Ichigo, but he didn't seem to take it that way.
"What? No way! What am I gonna do without you? Hang out with Uryu?" they both glanced warily at the bespectacled man, sitting at the table by the window with a book in hand. Orihime was telling him something about garlands (lately, they were all she could talk about) but he wasn't interested. Poor Orihime, she was always being ignored.
"You'll just have to," Rukia said, sending a smirk his way. On the rare occasion that Ichigo gave her some mileage for teasing, she always milked it for all it was worth. After all, this was Ichigo, and that was what you had to do. "And he can teach you to do a cross-stitch."
"Joy." Ichigo rolled his eyes, but looked stressed again without hesitation. "C'mon, Rukia, you can't leave for Christmas. You're keeping everyone here from insanity. Besides, who's going to make sure Orihime doesn't get roped into a cruel mistletoe trick by a bunch of seniors or something? We need you here, because… eh, who am I kidding. You keep stuff interesting." He shrugged and went a light puce, something that intrigued Rukia greatly. Was Ichigo getting the security blanket feeling, too? Maybe it was universal. Rukia shook her head to clear her jumbled brain, and it worked.
"Listen, Ichigo—wait, shouldn't you be going home for break? Karin and Yuzu must miss you." She hadn't thought of the twins for a few months, but they were a top reason for Ichigo to leave for the holidays. "We can hang out at the hill, you know, the one right next to the moon?"
Ichigo's face was wistful. "Damn, I wish it was that warm…" his eyes clouded over in momentary thought. Rukia remembered, too, for a minute, the foggy night with so many mosquitoes, in which she and Ichigo had lay in the field and bickered. How she missed those days. But at least he was here, and they were still friends.
Rukia smiled to get her mind off of it. "Anyway, I think I should go and get ready for this thing. I—"
"Rukia!" said Orihime suddenly, making them both jump with her sudden appearance. "You won't believe how pretty I'm going to make you! I'll get out my straighteners, and we'll cover up that nasty pimple on your cheek—"
"Orihime!" Rukia growled, a little too angrily given the redhead's expression. "Oh… well, you can give me a makeover if you want to. I don't mind." Inwardly, though, Rukia was balking. Orihime would turn her into a white-faced, powdery mini-Barbie, and she would not be too pleased with that. But… As long as it made Orihime happy, she would… "And we can watch a movie before the dance. Does that sound like fun?"
Orihime nodded fervently. "Do you have the dress I picked out?"
"Yes," Rukia sighed, a very short, glittery blue dress bombarding her mind's eye. "I'll put it on when I get upstairs, and then you can do whatever—"
"No, Rukia! First, you need a bath, and then, then we get to hair, and makeup. And then nails, if we have time…" Orihime already sounded like a full-fledged beautician, and Rukia hoped she wasn't as hopeless with makeup as she was with food.
I must be dreaming, or we're onto something.
I must be dreaming, for, I don't fall in love lawlessly.
Renji sat at his desk with nothing short of a hangover, his mind buzzing with memories from the night before. He had passed out… and then it had been time for work. Akamori had been less than pleased by his lack of sobriety, and he couldn't blame her, but it had been a special occasion. The Superbowl had been on, for Pete's sake. He booted up his computer and was beginning to type when there was a soft knock on the door.
Byakuya was in a dark blue suit with patent leather shoes, his eyes peering dispassionately over his glasses. "Good morning, Renji," he said frostily. "…Merry Christmas," he added as a grudging afterthought.
"Merry Christmas, Mr. Kuchiki," Renji mumbled almost silently, but within fifteen seconds his head shot up when he remembered who he was talking to. "Mr. Kuchiki! Good morning, sir, how was your weekend?" he had heard about it from Hisana, but finding conversation with Kuchiki was easier said than done. "Fine," Byakuya said. "I trust Akamori is well?" there was a look in his eyes that seemed as if he were threatening Renji rather than asking a question.
"Yeah, yeah, she's fine," Renji sputtered. His eyes wandered to a picture of Akamori and Chihiro next to the nameplate on his desk, and wondered what they were doing right now. "I mean, well, she wants to go back to school and become a lawyer, that's what she wants, but—"
"I know," Byakuya cut across. "She's been saying that since she was three."
"Oh," Renji immediately felt foolish and somewhat inferior to Kuchiki—but of course he was. Why had his ego been inflated? "All right, Mr. Kuchiki."
"Hisana used to work in this office," Byakuya said absentmindedly, and he seemed to be speaking to himself. "It is in need of a paint job, and crown mold—" and then he remembered Renji's presence as the redhead looked blankly at him. "Oh, yes. Right, Renji. I have a preposition for you."
Renji sat up straighter, his ears perking up to the words. "Yes?"
"I have been introduced to a young woman who wishes to study business by entering some form of hands-on program. Would you mind showing her the basics of your job?"
The redhead blinked slowly, a little taken aback and disappointed. A promotion would have thrown his hangover to the winds, but now he only felt more lethargic than before. "Yes, sir. That would be fine." He buried a hand in his hair.
"It seems you've had a rough week," Byakuya said somewhat incredulously.
Renji's eyes widened at him as his mind tried to wheedle the sentence together. "Sir?"
"I have been working in this field for thirty-two years, Abarai," he said frigidly, closing his eyes in contempt. "I know it can be taxing. Keep in mind that the holidays are here, and you will have this time to recuperate from your … hard work." Kuchiki opened his austere eyes. "By the way, my wife said something to me recently, and I would like to ask you a question."
Baffled, Renji agreed. "Of course, sir."
Kuchiki cleared his throat without much noise. "You've been living with my daughter for almost a year now, I believe. Before which, you fathered my granddaughter."
Renji's eyes narrowed a little, wondering where this was going. "Sir, I don't really understand what you're trying to say." He disliked talking about Akamori and Chihiro with Byakuya, who had basically shunned them. It wasn't as if he detested the man, but he had very little respect for him.
Byakuya continued as if he had not been interrupted. "My wife feels that you and Akamori are… she feels that you'll 'work out', or so she tells me." His lips twisted unpleasantly but he moved on. "I have asked her if you two planned to marry, and Hisana said that Rukia hasn't told her anything on that subject."
Since when is Rukia your little spy? Renji thought bitterly, feeling scorn on the younger Kuchiki child despite the fact that he knew she hadn't done anything. "Mhm," he said.
Byakuya arched a pitch-black brow. "You don't intend on getting married." As usual, he said it as a statement rather than an inquiry.
Renji stared. "Mr. Kuchiki, sir, I'd tell you that I didn't, but I really don't know about that right now. I have a lot of work to…" he decided to change his direction, "You know Akamori. She doesn't like being held back from anything."
"How would the institution of marriage hold one back?" Byakuya asked persistently, to Renji's extreme surprise. Kuchiki usually ended his arguments with silence, or 'I see' at the very most. Now he seemed more determined.
"I've never been married, so I have no clue." Renji decided to abandon respect for the sake of his side of the dispute.
Byakuya appeared affronted. "Well, it seems to me that one has to be married to know what it is like."
"Fascinating," Renji murmured.
Byakuya glared at him with a burning anger. "Do not be sarcastic on a matter like this. My daughter's virginity has already been taken by you, and as such—"
Renji moaned. "Oh, Christ. I don't want to go there with you."
The other man's eyebrows arched furiously. "What did you say?"
Renji let out a sigh of exasperation. "Listen, Mr. Kuchiki. I've tried to get along with you for the longest time, but you're just too damn stubborn. When are you gonna get it? Akamori can do whatever she wants to, and I don't want you coming in here and stressing me out for her choices. You're my boss, and I respect that, but really. Leave stuff like this for other days." He could care less what Byakuya thought at the moment, and went on, "I know she's your daughter and all, but come on. She can't be locked up forever, and it's a little too late to still think she is. She's a grown woman and, believe it or not, she isn't stupid. So cut her some slack. Hell, cut us both some slack."
Kuchiki's scowl remained on his face for a few immeasurable moments before beginning to, very slowly, become the emotionless mask. "It's good to see that you're standing by Akamori…" he was reflective and appeared lost in his thoughts. "And I know she isn't stupid."
Renji nodded. "Far from it," he attested staunchly.
"And… it is true that…" he was having trouble admitting his mistakes, of course. "She can do whatever she wants… I apologize. I've misjudged you, Abarai." His eyes darted back to Renji from the floor.
The redhead's face seemed numb. "…A… well, erm, thanks…" he felt thunderstruck. Byakuya Kuchiki had apologized for something he'd done wrong. Next thing he knew, there would be monkeys in the House of Representatives.
"How is your daughter?" Byakuya asked, his eyes thawing out the slightest bit.
Renji was glad for something that would end the awkwardness and get him talking again. "Fine, really."
Byakuya looked faintly impish. "What was her first word?"
"She… well, she hasn't said anything yet," he said, trying to remember any instances in which she had spoken, but all he could come up with were gurgles and baby talk. "She's only about a month old, sir."
"She'll speak soon," Kuchiki stated, seeming very convinced of this fact. "All children in my family speak early."
"All right," Renji muttered, trying not to entertain the fact that he was an extension of the Kuchiki family. To him, Akamori existed outside of that niche. "What are you doing over the holiday, Mr. Kuchiki?"
"I am spending time with Hisana, and most likely Rukia…" he blinked. "Have you heard from her?"
"Yeah, she was at our house not that long ago. And her friend, Ichigo, too."
"Ichigo Kurosaki? Hisana has told me stories about her. She seems to be a put-together girl, wouldn't you agree?"
"Girl?" Renji said, bewildered, but then remembered something Akamori had said. Dad's got the idea that Ichigo's a girl. Don't ruin this for Rukia or I'll skin you. She had smiled after the threat, though. "Yeah, Ichigo's …polite."
"She seems to care about Rukia, too. I'm thankful… but when will I meet this Ichigo? I meet all of Rukia's friends. I make sure they are not delinquents."
Jeez, stalker much? "Well, Ichigo kind of runs a tight schedule, h—she's got two siblings and is in… a lot of sports," Renji rounded off, "Softball, basketball… you name it…" he was wondering how Rukia would get out of this, but for now he wouldn't wreck it.
"Ah, she has another friend like that," Byakuya mused. "Tatsuki, I believe." He looked at the clock. "In fact, now I think you should leave."
Renji blinked. "Huh?"
"Your vacation," his boss reminded, "only lasts so long. If I were you, I would take advantage of this opport—"
Renji had his briefcase and coat in seconds. "Bye, sir," he said in a rush in his sprint for the door, "Nice talk."
Trouble is her only friend.
And he's back again.
"Orihime, you can't pull that hard on my head!" Rukia shrieked as Orihime tugged a large paddle brush through the raven locks. The redhead ignored her heated complaints and kept pulling, humming a blissful tune that sounded suspiciously like, 'I've Been Working on the Railroad.'
"Only another two hours," Orihime said, "and you can put your dress on!"
"At least I can take off this robe. It's like a sweatbox," she commented darkly, staring at her sweat-coated hands. At this rate she would have to take another shower. Rukia had been shoved into a tall blue chair, been blindfolded, and was now being recreated as a beauty queen, or so Orihime had said. She was only allowing this reconstruction because Toshiro and the rest of the Dance Committee would be armed with cameras, and she wouldn't put it beneath Ichigo to poke fun at one of those bad pictures she was always caught in. Plus, Orihime didn't seem too inept with beauty. It would be wise to let her use Rukia as a guinea pig, because she might've gone to Tatsuki as a backup. And Tatsuki only looked good in sweats.
It wasn't often that Rukia thought of Tatsuki, because as much as she hated to admit it—even to herself—it was painful. Tatsuki had gotten jealous over nothing, but then, Rukia hadn't been the best friend in the world to her. Ichigo was something new, he was… well, she had never really had a guy friend at that point. Now that she looked back on it, Rukia felt foolish for deserting her friend. But if she hadn't… Ichigo would still be in her life… he was going to show up whenever he was, so there was no way to stop the inevitable. Tatsuki might have been the sour one… but Rukia didn't know. She put it out of her mind when Orihime started speaking.
"Rukia, I think you're a spring," she said brightly. "You look nice in mild colors."
"Thank you," Rukia said with a smile. With Orihime, the most irrelevant things were compliments. "I like mild colors, myself, but I don't think about makeup all that often."
"You should, you're so pretty," her friend said sweetly.
"Thanks," Rukia murmured. "I don't think I'm as pretty as Akamori, though."
"You're just as pretty! Just a different kind. I don't think one sibling can be prettier than the other one. They have the same looks, but they're just placed differently."
Rukia blinked as Orihime began to run a straightening iron through her hair. "I never thought of it that way."
Orihime smiled again, this time applying some kind of mousse to Rukia's head. "Sure! Your face is very cute. You don't think about it much, I can tell, but you're one of the prettiest people I know!" Orihime seemed very sure of herself, and try as she did, Rukia couldn't suppress a grin.
"Thanks, Orihime. That means a lot to me."
"Yep!" The redhead was back to her work now. Rukia was glad of it. Despite her intense care for Orihime, she tended to talk peoples' heads off, and Rukia wasn't patient. She glanced at her dress. It was a luminous blue minidress with sheaths of lace flowing over it. Hisana had called Orihime and told her of the requirements for Rukia in size, and Orihime had bustled off without a word to the younger Kuchiki. It was just as well.
"Hey, do you wear cream blush?"
"Sure," Rukia said, unsure of what cream blush was.
"Good. I think I'll try 'Frosted Rose' on you."
"All right." Rukia sighed.
Where flowers gaze at you.
They're not the only ones who cry when they see you.
"Ah, but I am sorry," said the salesgirl in a deep Russian drawl, "You are quite too small for this tuxedo. Childrens' section is very—"
"I am not a child!" Toshiro's voice was a snap.
He eyed himself in the mirror. The sleeves hung at least five inches past his fingers, and the sea of tuxedos on the floor was growing girthier with each passing second. His forehead was lined with perspiration.
Ichigo, who was leaning on the dressing room door, smirked. "She's right, tiny. You should get a smaller size." He himself had snagged the perfect tuxedo from the mens' section just a few minutes prior, and was thrilled by the prospect of tormenting the less-than-lanky Toshiro. Ichigo had agreed to go suit-shopping in lieu of much harassment from Rukia, who had told him not to look like a hobo. Ichigo had always frowned when he thought about that—did he look homeless on a regular basis or something? If so, that would not be the case tonight. Toshiro had told Ichigo that to impress a Kuchiki, one needed to be Kuchiki. Ichigo had asked him why he had said that, and Hitsugaya had shaken his head and mumbled about tinsel.
He didn't have any concrete plans for the night, like who to dance with. Ichigo was a reasonable dancer, but he disliked being put on the spot, so he would probably stand around and drink punch all the time. Rukia would most likely wind up dancing with someone—she was short, but seemed to cause a lot of double-takes. This shouldn't have bothered him, but that didn't stop the jealousy. Rukia was his best friend, and… he didn't really want her involved with anyone. It just wasn't like her…
Toshiro was suddenly back in his uniform. "Let's go to the …Children's section…" he growled. Ichigo's worried expression was replaced by a smug one right on time, so he just followed the elfin man across the store.
Ichigo was perusing the shelf when he bumped into Ishida, who was standing near the door.
"Kurosaki, be aware of your body," he said.
"Shut up, Four-Eyes. What are you doing here?" the orange-head demanded, wondering what Ishida would be doing in the Childrens' section… unless he had kids, which was highly unlikely given his personality.
"I'm picking up Orihime's dress. She ordered it from Tokyo," Ishida explained.
Ichigo blinked. "You're going to the dance with Orihime?" he couldn't imagine a more unlikely couple.
Ishida bit his lip. "I am not involved with her. She needs to get her dress taken out near the top."
"Oh, right. Top-heavy. My mistake," Ichigo said, turning his attention back to the numerous tuxes. "Now, what's Toshiro again… a 2, I think…"
Ishida looked appalled. "You're going with Hitsugaya?" he said, horror-struck.
Ichigo nearly strangled him. "Why the hell would I go with—what are you on, Uryu?"
"Nothing recently," Uryu assured him. "You sounded as if you were buying a tuxedo so you could go to the dance together. Have you already bought yours?"
"It's at the front," Ichigo said absentmindedly, combing through the tuxedos. Rukia, save my soul. Why did I do this again? All he would find were sizes 3 and up! Damn Hitsugaya and his miniature genes. How was he short, anyway? Byakuya's sister was his mom, right… oh, duh. Father. "So, what are you wearing, Uryu?"
"I am wearing a white suit," Uryu said sagely, looking a bit more presumptuous than was justified. "I intend to stand out in the crowd."
"Yeah, as if you don't already," Ichigo muttered.
Uryu frowned but said nothing. "Anyway, I should be leaving. Creativity doesn't cater to procrastination."
"Which is why I shouldn't be talking to a jackass while I'm doing Rukia a favor. Get away, Ishida, you're blocking the shelf." Ichigo sighed.
The dark haired teen let out a pretentious scoff and stalked off, possibly toward the nearest bookstore. Ichigo shook his head in irritation and continued to peruse the shelves, but just as before, nothing fit Toshiro.
"Kurosaki," Toshiro said about fifteen minutes later. "I've found one."
Ichigo turned to see him in a tux that seemed to fit, but the sleeves were rolled up. "I guess that's as good as it gets," he allowed, jerking his head toward the front. "Get up there and pay for it, I've got stuff to do today."
I'll overcome the thousands of nights and go meet you now.
There is something that I must tell you.
"Rukia, I'm done!" Orihime declared, her face deeply proud—of what, Rukia was afraid. She hadn't looked at herself since they had begun… what if she looked like some good-girl-gone-harlot? Byakuya would commit murder in the first degree if the cameras came out during this dance. But she sat rigidly in her seat and waited while Orihime ran off in search of a mirror in her cluttered dormitory. It was then that Rukia wondered where Tatsuki was. Maybe she had gone to Ryou's to get ready.
Rukia heard much noise as Orihime tore apart her bathroom. She wondered why there were no mirrors on the walls, which would make things about a hundred times easier. Rukia's face didn't feel heavy as it usually did when she wore makeup, which calmed her nerves a little. Akamori tended to smear a lot of heavy stuff on her face, most of which she didn't need. Rukia knew that thinking of Akamori now would not help her self-esteem, so she ceased.
Orihime arrived with a rather small handheld mirror. "It was all I could find," she explained, but immediately looked hopeful. "I really worked hard on you, Rukia, please don't—"
"Orihime," Rukia said, eyeing herself in the mirror, "I'm perfect."
Her complexion was pearlier than usual, and if Rukia didn't know any better, she would say that she glowed faintly. Her eye makeup was beautiful but chaste, and her lips were so exquisite they resembled candy. Her hair fell in loose waves all around her face, all of its usual poofiness gone. Was this really her? It didn't seem possible at all. Rukia thought for a moment about Cinderella, and how she had better make the best of tonight before she turned back into a pumpkin.
Orihime was squealing with happiness, bouncing on her toes. "Thank you! Thank—thank you, Rukia!" words seemed beyond Orihime right now. The redhead's own hair was in curlers, and she seemed completely ready, but she was still in sweats.
"W..well, where's your dress?" Rukia asked, her own appearance being pushed into the corner of her mind.
"Oh, well, Uryu should be here with it any minute! And Ichigo, too!"
Rukia's stomach did a back flip. Ichigo? Ichigo had only seen her as Octopus-Head Kuchiki, not New Pretty Rukia. Then again, she thought, it was Ichigo, and he probably wouldn't even notice the difference.
Orihime broke her thoughts. "If I can't find Frosted Rose, then how can I do Michiru's makeup when we get there? She doesn't have any with her… oh…" Orihime seemed to be troubled.
"Why don't I help you look for it?" Rukia offered.
"Well, Rukia, you can, but I don't think we'll find it." She let out a despondent sigh.
The shorter girl shook her head fervently. "We have to. What if Michiru wants to dance with a boy? We can't let her go without makeup." Although Rukia didn't care much for girly things, and Michiru was pretty anyway, she wanted to clear her mind of loud-mouthed, orange-haired men.
"Here it is!" Orihime said immediately, spotting it on a nearby chaise. Rukia huffed a sigh of exasperation at her bum luck and slipped on her heels—the same color as her dress, with ribbons that laced up the legs—in about three seconds. Even though it was pathetic, Rukia needed to get her mind off of Ichigo. She felt spastic and she was sweating… SWEATING, damn it! Rukia didn't care if she looked like crap. She lived with it every day. But to STINK was not on her immediate agenda. The small Kuchiki rounded on her friend.
"Do you have deodorant?"
Orihime blinked, clearly flabbergasted by the question. "Well, yeah, it's in the bath—"
"Thanks." Rukia bolted across the room, leapt over the chaise, and closed the bathroom door behind her. She faced a rather large cabinet. Upon heaving it open she spotted it at the top shelf. Antiperspirant-deodorant. Her savior.
After applying liberal amounts, Rukia shoved it back in the cabinet and opened the door. Orihime was still standing there, the awe-struck expression plastered to her face. "Are you okay, Rukia?"
"Never better!" Rukia grinned, smacking herself mentally. Remember what Byakuya said, don't be an open book… "I'm just a little nervous. You know how these school functions go, they're…"
"Yeah, they make me sweaty, too. Don't you just hate it? I think only boys should sweat," Orihime mused, her heather eyes skyward. After a few moments of poker-face from Rukia, she came back down to earth. "Ah, my cell phone's vibrating!"
Rukia noticed the light blue flip pattering across the table as it vibrated, but Orihime grabbed it. "Ah, it's Ichigo!" she said with a wink that confounded Rukia, just before picking up. "Hi, Ichigo!"
Luckily for her, Ichigo was rather loud in phone conversations. "Hey, Orihime. Where's Rukia?"
"Right here," Orihime replied, "You wanna talk to her?"
Ichigo sighed, as if this were a useless question. "Yeah."
Orihime grinned and passed the phone to Rukia.
"Hello?" the small girl greeted.
"Hey. You all ready? I'm giving you a ride."
Rukia bli
;.nked. "…Well, all right then, --hey, wait! Why the sudden thaw?"
"Huh?"
"I mean, you hate school stuff. Why is it you're going to this again?"
"Well, Toshiro said he was failing Home Ec. Or something. The more people he can get to go, the more points he gets for being on the dance committee. Since he's your cousin, I figured I'd give the little guy a break."
Rukia vaguely remembered Toshiro flipping a pancake and then setting a fire in the kitchen. "Well, that was nice. More power to Toshiro." But she had an underlying feeling that Ichigo had gone to hang out with her. Hey, she wasn't complaining. "Please tell me you don't look like a hobo, Ichigo."
"What is it with you? Do I always look trashy or something?" he moaned.
"No, that's not it. But if I wind up in a picture with you, I—"
"Aw, come on, Rukia. It's not like you're gonna look that great."
She scoffed at him. "Thanks. I bet you just said that to cover up for something—like lousy dancing or bad breath."
"Neither of which have anything to do with me," he said, swelling with pride according to his tone.
"Ha-ha." Rukia breathed out and made sure her breath was good, so she wouldn't eat her words later. It smelled fine. "Ichigo, if you take so much delight in bad-mouthing me, then go on the Internet and complain."
"I would but complaining in real life is a hell of a lot more entertaining. Speaking of complaining, where's your cousin?" he asked.
"Beats me." Rukia hadn't seen Toshiro for a few days, actually. "Since he made the soccer team, he's always at practice."
"If sports weren't so annoying, I'd join a team."
"Ichigo? I seem to remember us talking about the dance."
He sighed. "Right. I'm out front."
Rukia felt a jolt. He had gotten there that fast? Not exactly surprising, but she had wanted a little more time to control her emotions. But you couldn't always get what you wanted. She took a deep breath and turned to Orihime. "He's here."
Orihime squealed and pulled Rukia into a bone-crushing hug. "Good luck, Rukia! Have fun! And don't forget to check your feet for stray toilet paper after you go!"
A drop of sweat hovered on Rukia's forehead. "I think I can handle it."
And as you move on, remember me.
Remember us and all we used to be.
Rukia actually felt pretty good as she descended the stone steps in front of the school, being careful not to twist her ankle or do other things she did when nervous. A small smile played across her lips when she spotted the shining red BMW—and a shock of orange through the window. She slowed her steps, trying to square her shoulders as she approached the car.
Before she could open the passenger door, its window rolled down. Ichigo peered at her over his sunglasses, which after a moment, he took off. The sun-lit amber eyes widened, a trismus mouth slackening. Ichigo blinked twice and tried to clear his throat. She swelled with pride as he stared at her in wonder, as if she had… suddenly become pretty? Rukia smiled on the inside.
"H-hey, Midget," he said, trying to be laissez-faire about it. "Y-you clean up good, huh?" Ichigo went a little red and his face segued back into a scowl.
"Hi, Ichigo. I can see you've avoided the hobo look, too." She eyed him, and there did seem to be a certain class that wasn't there before today. She had never really seen him in black before, and it was a good color on him. For once, Ichigo had appeared to spend a good amount of time on his hair. The orangey spikes were perfectly separated and proportioned, and she admired his loyalty to her suggestions.
"Come off it. All I did was wear cologne." He looked at the traffic jam ahead, but turned back to Rukia. She noticed a peculiar detail.
"Did you pluck your eyebrows?" she laughed.
"Shut up and get in the car." Ichigo rolled up the window.
Rukia relaxed her lips and pulled open the door, sliding comfortably into the seat. She made to look at Ichigo but spotted Toshiro in the rearview mirror. He wore a tuxedo that hung on him a bit, but was dark enough to wonderfully contrast his hair and skin. He wore extra gel in his hair, and cologne. "Hi, Toshiro."
"The Inoue girl did a good job," her cousin inspected.
The girl next to him—Rukia recognized her from the hallway as Senna Shuurin, the only girl in the Shuurin family—looked at him. "Toshi, don't say 'the Inoue girl.' Her name is Orihime and she's very nice. Hi, Rukia, I'm Senna. You look very pretty tonight." She smiled good-naturedly and extended a hand, which Rukia shook politely and smiled back. Senna was a girl just a bit taller than Rukia, with straight violet hair done up and laced with small orange flowers that matched her dress.
"Orange is your color," Rukia said.
"Thanks." Senna beamed.
"I'm surprised you didn't kill yourself on the way down those stairs, Kuchiki. I almost did," Ichigo said, as if it were impossible. "Anyway, your sister called."
"Akamori?"
"No, your other sister. Yeah, Akamori called like… ten minutes ago. I told her you were upstairs, and she said to tell you she called." Ichigo put his sunglasses back on, apparently to avert Rukia's curious gaze. "It's probably something to do with food, you know how she is, so I'd say it can wait."
"Ichigo, my sister isn't the waiting type."
Ichigo's cell phone started to ring again. Rukia's hand shot toward it but he beat her there, looking triumphant. "It's my dad, anyway," he said, showing her the glowing words, KUROSAKI ISSHIN. "Hey, what do you want?"
Rukia sat back in her seat and listened to them banter. Apparently Isshin had something very interesting and exciting to tell Ichigo, but he wanted his son to try and guess first. Ichigo didn't agree with this and said Isshin was pathetic, which seemed to upset the older man, in lieu of the despondent wail that issued from the phone.
Finally, Ichigo's eyebrows shot up. "Again? Wow. All right, I'll tell her. Bye. I said bye. No!" he sighed. "I'm telling you, old man, I'm hanging up this phone. You're making us look like some pathetic couple who fights over who's going to hang up first. All right."
Ichigo pushed the END button so hard his knuckles turned white. "God, he embarrasses me."
Rukia nodded softly. "Right, so what is it he wanted to—I mean, what is it he said?"
"Renji and Akamori are over at the clinic," he said.
"All right, whatever, just what did he say?" Rukia grumbled.
"Renji knocked your sister up again," Ichigo smirked, making it sound like no big deal. Rukia felt her jaw drop.
"It's only been what—three months since Chihiro?!" she exclaimed, her eyes like bright blue stones. Rukia swallowed.
"I'm not surprised. What with them having sex every two seconds, it's obvious," Toshiro said inconsequentially, pulling a drag on his cigarette, "I expect at least thirteen kids from them. Oh, all of those children marching in a line at the wedding, if there's even a wedding." He flicked it out the window, and Senna blinked.
"I take it you don't like Akamori much?" she asked inconsequentially.
"No, no, she's my cousin, of course I like her. As much as possible. But she's just… I don't know. It's like her personality—"
"Hey, that's Rukia's sister. Watch your mouth," Ichigo snapped, and Toshiro was silent. "I don't think you're in a place to criticize, smartass."
Toshiro frowned but decided against speaking. Rukia just reveled in the fact that Ichigo wanted to keep Toshiro from insulting her family, which he seemed to forget that he was part of. The orange-haired man's face did not change.
"Ichigo, we could always just walk to the dance. Why do we need the car? It's right on the other side of school," Senna said, pointing.
"Senna, you're forgetting that it's friggin' cold. And besides, knowing Rukia, she'd want to arrive in style." He said the last two words with the lightest seasoning of mockery, but Rukia caught it and decided to ignore his jibe.
Senna heaved a sigh. "Ichigo, at this point, it'd be faster to walk." She stared warily at the traffic, her dayglow eyes reproachful, and Toshiro nodded.
"Really, Kurosaki. Is there any need to even use the car?" he said bitterly.
"Shut up, Hitsugaya, and get out if you want," Ichigo said, his frown intensifying. As it happened, he seemed to be contemplating something himself. Rukia could easily decipher it.
"You want to get out of the car, too," she reminded him, smiling a little at his shell-shocked face. After a few moments of staring at Rukia in a strange way, he nodded and smiled wryly. "Let's just get out."
"Good," Rukia said, satisfied. "I was starting to think I had something on my face."
"I wouldn't be surprised, but you don't," Ichigo smirked. Rukia bit back the retort that sprang to her lips and opened the car door.
"Holy shit, it's cold!" Ichigo exclaimed, making his way toward Rukia but stopping, and reposing his face. "Of course, you probably have a fur coat somewhere, right?"
"No, my dad does," Rukia said coolly. "Just like a Russian Cossack. Anyway, where's Orihime? She said she would be out soon." Rukia felt guilty for letting Orihime spend so much time on her appearance and then neglect her own, and her makeup felt a lot heavier on her face. Somehow, though, his scowl reassured her, brought back the memories of their summer, and reminded her how Orihime would always be happy, no matter what.
"It's not that," Toshiro was saying nearby, "She went with Izuru, you know, Senna. I'm not being mean to her."
"Yeah, but you didn't tell her you were going with me."
"Momo isn't my keeper, you know, I can do what I want. And if it's a dance with you, I--"
"Calm down, Toshi. Don't get all worked up, it makes you look bad," Senna said crisply, straightening her back and walking toward the intended destination. Toshiro blinked for a moment then hurried after her, trying not to look flustered.
"Your cousin's got some issues," Ichigo said, "But he can be all right," he allowed, taking in her sullen expression. Worry spasmed across his face. "Hey, K-Kuchiki, what's wrong with you?" Ichigo had never been good at dealing with other peoples' pain, she knew that, but she was in a rather foggy mood now. "Look, I'm sorry I said that to Toshiro," he sighed, "I just--"
"It's not Toshiro," Rukia sighed. "It's just that, I've never really been to a dance before. I'm a little irritated." In truth, this wasn't the real reason. She couldn't say, Ichigo, I feel like I need you to be with me all the time, and it's freaking me out! "I'll be fine."
Ichigo knew her too well to be truly convinced, but that seemed to satisfy him. He smiled darkly. "Let's get in there and get this over with, all right?"
"Okay." The younger Kuchiki child sighed and strode across the pavement with her best friend, trying hard not to trip--the pavers must have gotten distracted while they were working, she guessed, but Ichigo seemed completely at ease on his much larger feet. What the hell?
"Happy about your next niece or nephew? And your new sister?" Ichigo questioned, trying to make small talk.
"I guess. There are too many babies in my family lately." What with Chihiro coming just a few months prior to that, and Hisana's baby coming early next month, Rukia had had enough of the small children. But obviously that wasn't the case with her sister and her lover. "Anyway, I don't want to talk about Akamori right now. She tends to make me nervous."
"Don't get nervous, it's only a dance. And even if they do break out the cameras... well, Midget, Orihime did a good job on you," Ichigo said grudgingly, and when she tried to meet his eyes, they were on the sky. "Moon's nice."
"That's what you said last summer exactly," Rukia said, remembering. "Do you have some kind of moon complex?"
"I love the moon," he said absentmindedly. "It always gives me something good to think abou--great, now I sound cheesy." Ichigo rolled his eyes at his own words and turned to her. "What, you don't like the moon?"
"I like it too, I just prefer the sun. It's less sad," she said. "When sadness can be avoided, you should avoid it. I like the sun better."
"I think it's better to face emotions," he said matter-of-factly.
"Well, you're annoying, Ichigo, and talking about planets is boring me." Rukia sniffed.
"Neither the sun nor the moon are planets."
"Whatever!" Rukia rolled her eyes and made to shove her hands in her pockets, but cursed inwardly when she remembered that she was in a dress. "Anyway, when did you get so philosophical? Over this past week, you've been downright weird."
Ichigo sighed. "I've got a lot on my mind, Rukia."
"You... you actually called me Rukia," she said, amazed.
"I call you Rukia all the time. Rukia."
"No, you usually call me 'midget'. Or just 'you'. Or 'Kuchiki.' Anything that doesn't require respecting me," she explained, tucking a stray strand of raven hair behind her ear.
"Everyone calls you Rukia," he said, "And Midget fits you."
"What makes you so different? My family calls me Rukia, why can't you?" Rukia was wondering why she was going so far with this. It's just your name. Come off it, Rukia, you're being really insensitive. "By the way, we've talked about it before. I'm not a midget. I'm short, fun-sized, elfin, diminuative--whatever. Not my fault. Blame my mom."
"Mom," Ichigo repeated.
Some crickets chirped in the distance, and Rukia wondered what they were still doing here in the wintertime, but it didn't matter. His scowl was gone, replaced by a soft expression that he had only worn once--back when she was leaving to go and see Chihiro for the first time, but different somehow. A little more sad than that. Suddenly she realized. "Oh, Ichigo, I didn't mean to bring that up."
"Nah," he said. His voice was gentle. "If Mom were here, she would be attacking us with cameras, and Dad would have a field day." His mouth segued into a small, barely-there smile. "If my mom knew you, I bet you'd get along."
Rukia looked at Ichigo with a consternation she never had before. He was thinking about his mother and Rukia being friends. The thought filled her to the brim with warm, fuzzy feelings. "Thanks, Ichigo."
"She argued with me, just the same way you do. But everyone argues with me, so, yeah." He appeared to be out of mileage on the subject, and his eyes flitted to his watch. "Crap, Rukia, we'll be late and Toshiro'll shit himself."
"I know," Rukia sighed. "Let's go."
No regrets, they're useless, in my mind, she's in my heart.
"Damn. These Committee people did a good job."
The school's ballroom was decked out completely in the glimmering garlands and blooming Christmas flowers Rukia had purchased, as well as a large amount of mistletoe sprigs. Music was flowing comfortably throughout the room. "You said it," she murmured, eyeing a cluster of dark wood tables in the corner. "Let's?"
"Yeah," Ichigo agreed, moving along the wall so as not to be trampled by the many students. Orihime had said that there would be a full house, and she had been right. Eventually the twosome were sitting at the table nearest the window.
"Ooh, cake," Rukia said as soon as she sat, noticing the rather large platter of pastries in front of her. She picked a small white one and plopped it in her mouth. "Mm, cherry," she said thickly. The atmosphere of the huge room was enchanting, very beautiful. She had to hand it to Toshiro and the rest of them. But if it hadn't been for Byakuya's generous donations, none of it would have been possible. Rukia decided that she would be labeled a snob if she took all the credit, so she had kept her mouth shut about the whole thing.
Watch your mouth, because your speech is slurred enough, that you just might swallow your tongue.
"I like this song," she said inadvertantly, her foot tapping a little to the beat. Ichigo looked a little wary of his surroundings, but pulled a blue pastry from the platter. He busied himself with eating it slowly.
Senna danced over and plopped down in the seat next to Rukia. "Hi, Rukia. Having fun?"
"I just got here, but I am having fun, thank you," Rukia smiled. She figured it was best to be nice to Toshiro's love interest. "Where's--"
"He's in the bathroom getting sick. It must be something with the punch, since he's the only one who had any of it. Apparently Uryu wanted most of it, but he's upstairs in bed now. Sick."
"Oh." Rukia's eyebrows shot up. The punch? Well, Uryu and Toshiro must not have liked raspberry very much. "They'll be okay," she assured her violet haired friend, who looked a little upset, staring into Toshiro's forgotten cup forlornly. "Hey, Senna, he'll be okay, you know him." She didn't know the Shuurin sister, but Rukia wanted to wear a happy face. Senna looked on the edge of tears.
"And he upset Momo for nothing," she sighed. "I-I'll see you later, Rukia, I'm going to powder my nose," she stammered, hurrying off into the throng.
Rukia frowned a little, remembering Senna and Toshiro's conversation earlier. Where was Momo, anyway? They had said something about Izuru...? Nearby, she saw a door open, revealing her worse-for-wear cousin. His white hair was off in wild-directions, and his eyes were tinged with red. He looked like he was going to cough up Disney World. "Toshiro?"
He frowned and walked off into the crowd, ignoring her completely.
Ichigo had finished his pastry.
"What bit him in the ass?"
"I don't know, Ichigo. Watch your language," she reprimanded, "All you've done lately is cuss."
"Oh, I apologize for affronting Miss Kuchiki's ego." Ichigo rolled his eyes, but sobered up after three seconds or so. "What's happening with the punch?"
"I have no clue. He has a weak stomach, that's probably all it is," she tried, more to herself than her orange-haired friend.
"And Uryu?"
"Uryu confuses me to no end, Ichigo, you know that." Rukia felt herself getting antsy. "Besides, where is Orihime? I haven't seen her all night." She was more than worried now. Orihime usually called when something came up.
"Rukia, she may be a ditz, but Orihime's not stupid. She'll take care of herself, whatever happens," he assured her.
"Right," she said quietly.
We're burning down the highway skyline, on the back of a hurricane, that started turning when you were young.
Rukia sighed and closed her eyes. This dance, she had thought earlier, wouldn't be so bad. And it really wasn't. But the fact that Orihime wasn't here, and that Toshiro was sick, and that Senna was upset, was stopping her from enjoying it like she should.
A voice came through the din. "Rukia?"
She blinked at the person in front of her. "Tatsuki?"
Her former friend stood in a knee-length mauve dress and heels, her raven hair accentuated with purple crystal earrings. Overall, the effect was quite nice. Her wine-colored eyes were a little sad. "Can I talk to you?"
Rukia's heart leapt at the prospect of talking to her old friend again. "Sure, of course, Tatsuki." She hurried to clear a chair for her friend, but Tatsuki got one on her own and sat down next to Rukia. She glanced at Ichigo.
"Hey, Ichigo," she said casually.
"Hey, Tatsuki," Ichigo said, as if the whole birthday-party thing had never happened. "What's up?"
"Not much. You having fun?"
"Sorta." He took a gulp of Dr. Pepper and turned his attention to the dance floor, watching the other students. His eyes glazed over with disinterest within a minute and he got back to the food.
You play forgiveness, watch it now, here he comes.
"So," Tatsuki said, her voice a little shaky. "How are you, Rukia?"
"Um, I'm okay. Just... the music's loud and all." Rukia was more focused on her friend, and why she was here. She feared that they would have another argument in Ichigo's midst, and started to sweat a little. "A-and you?"
"I'm okay... look, Rukia. I came over here because... well, sorry about what I did at the party. That wasn't right, I was being stupid." She shook her head, as if to put shame upon herself.
"You're right." Rukia's eyes roved over Ichigo. "It was stupid. He was really guilty over it." Her voice was laced with involuntary contempt, but she did feel happy about Tatsuki's apology.
Tatsuki looked sad. "...What?"
"I could see it in his eyes for a while." She remembered Ichigo, the way he was after the party, the remorseful look he had worn. It hadn't been obvious, and she had seen it then, but it had taken until now for it all to settle in.
"And I'm sorry I've ignored you this whole time. I've been a bitch, Rukia, and... Orihime's been telling me I should apologize for the longest time. I guess that was the one thing I couldn't find enough guts to do." Tatsuki gave a wry look and shrugged her shoulders. "You forgive me?"
"It'll take time." Rukia smiled quietly at her and looked over at Ichigo, who was watching the scene attentively now. She wondered what had caught his attention, since he was out of general earshot.
Tatsuki smiled, but stopped abruptly when someone tapped on her shoulder. They looked up to see a tall guy with ataxic bright blue hair and teal eyes. Around said eyes were markings somewhat reminiscant of a panther. Apparently he had decided that he would be the only guy there to wear a white suit.
"Wanna dance?" he said in a slightly rough tone.
"Sure," Tatsuki said, sending one last smile Rukia's way. "Bye, Rukia." She then proceeded to run off with the strange blue-haired guy, whom she'd seen around school once or twice. He was an upperclassman.
"Someone for everyone, I guess," Ichigo put in.
"Yeah." Rukia stared at her Cola.
And then...
Somehow at that moment, her eyes came up to meet Ichigo's.
The amber rondures were silent and stock-still, and her own were the same. As much as she would argue internally with herself, Rukia found that she couldn't now. All was well in the mind of Rukia Kuchiki, and the Strawberry's head jerked toward the dance floor.
She nodded, not feeling hesitant or doubtful at all. When she stood, there was no tripping or falling or looking stupid. It was like the world had somehow frozen, except for her, Ichigo, and the music. She didn't have time to wonder about anything, to second-guess herself. There was nothing else.
Ichigo's hand met hers, and he grinned. "Never thought you'd dance with me, huh?" he said. Rukia smiled a full, sincere smile, the one she only wore when she was most happy.
"No, I didn't!" she grinned. Ichigo smiled and the thoughts of unhappiness she had felt earlier subsided. It was so rare that he ever smiled at her, and now, it was the most beautiful one she'd ever seen from him. The ultramarine eyes met the terra-cotta ones as the last riff from the song faded off, and a quiet new one began.
If you're not the one, then why does my soul feel glad... today?
Inside of Rukia now was a glorified, bustling feeling. Euphoria--that was the word. She was euphoric. She just loved being with Ichigo. There was no silliness of a crush, no anxiety... she was in her element with him.
If you are not mine, then why does your heart return my call? If you are not mine, would I have the strength to stand... at all?
Rukia remembered that blisteringly hot day at the pool, when she had first met Ichigo. He had been babysitting Yuzu, and she had wandered away from Orihime and Tatsuki... the day would stand forever in her memory, she knew. She had lost her panties... but then he had saved them. She smiled, trying to remember the things she'd said to him, when they hadn't even known each other.
I don't want to run away, but I can't take it, I don't understand... if I'm not made for you, then why does my heart tell me that I am?
For a moment, Ichigo was afraid that this was all a dream again. That he would wake up in three minutes to Isshin yelling, and he had never met Rukia... the thought sent a spasm of pain down his conscience. But she was here now, with him, his best friend... his only real friend...
He twirled her and kept thinking. What would life be like... if he had never met this short girl, the one who bugged him about everything, but knew everything about him? He felt sometimes... the only other person who had known him that well was his mother, and she had died. If he lost Rukia, all would end. Souls like hers were rare...
If you're not for me, then why does this distance maim my life? If you're not for me, then why do I dream of you... as my wife?
Rukia felt herself smile again as Ichigo dipped her, a look of quiet bliss in his eyes. He was happy, and all she ever wanted was for him to be happy. It completed her.
'Cause I miss you, body and soul so strong that it takes my breath away, and I breathe you into my heart and pray for the strength to stand today,
Cause I love you, whether it's wrong or right, though I can't be with you tonight, know my heart is by your side...
She thought of his mother, and how he missed her. Rukia missed her father, too, though he was alive... he had never been there at all. Ichigo was the rock she clung to in the storm, where her mother couldn't help her, and Akamori couldn't help... there was no real way to explain her feelings when it came to him. She had gone over it before, in her head, late at night, thinking... why Ichigo? Why? The answer was simple. Their souls had somehow found counters in the other. Equals in spirit.
She reveled in him, simply.
And I hope you are the one I share my life with, and I wish that you could be the one I die with...
Rukia's eyes met Ichigo's again, and he smiled a little. To think that his smile came so easily when she was around... because she lit him up somewhere, she figured, on the inside, and it was mutual.
I hope I love you all my life...
The song faded off, and couples around them stopped dancing. Rukia's eyes wandered across his face, looking for something there, and was unsure of what it was. His face was relaxed, happy, and ultimately fulfilled. And the only thing left to complete their one perfect evening together...
Ichigo's arms moved up to hold her shoulders, as he arched his back to lean down, and softly touch their lips together.
The kiss was short but rapturous. The feeling of Ichigo's lips against Rukia's set off beautiful fireworks behind her eyes. Ichigo, Ichigo, Ichigo. The warmth in her head cascaded through her body. Ichigo kissed her. The sweetness of it all, and that it was happening to her, set Rukia's heart alight.
Ichigo pulled back and ended the kiss. "Merry Christmas, Rukia," he said.
Thanks for reading this one! Gosh, it took me forever to get done, but it was worth it, huh? The song that Ichigo and Rukia danced to was, "If You're Not the One" by Daniel Bedingfield. I would so listen to it if I were you, it's the most beautiful song. :) Well, I think it's good that I cranked out a really long chapter here. Also, uhm, I don't know how to put this… but I've decided to establish review quotas now. I have 50 alerts, and 10 reviews per chapter. I greatly appreciate everyone who's reviewing! But, but, I need 45 reviews for this chapter before the next one is released. :) I intend to favorite and reply to all of my reviewers! This review quota idea has proven effective on several stories I've seen, so, yeah! Erm, if you'd be so kind, be detailed on what you liked about the chapter! Questions, comments, suggestions, opinions—anything's welcome! I'll wrap this up now, thank you and please review!
I'm dedicating this chapter to Redsilent. Redsilent wrote great ByaHisa stories, she was very nice… and she died on February 10th… rest in peace, Redsilent…