Hey, I'm back! Thanks for your patience, guys, and all your positive reviews. I've gotta be honest, I had my doubts about that last chapter—other than its total shortness, I didn't think my writing was as good as it usually is. But that chapter is behind me now—I intend to make this one 100 percent amazing! Okay, okay, so I'm pretty sure you're wondering if we see Byakuya this chapter. And truth be told, we do :D So, be happy! Okay? Let's get going with this.
Songs I listened to while writing this chapter:
Running Up That Hill by Placebo, Daylight by Matt and Kim, Beautiful by Eminem, With Me by Sum 41.
She's Like the Moon, an xSilverWingsx fanfic
If I only could, make a deal with God, and get him to swap our places, be running up that road, be running up that hill, be running up that building...
If I only could.
Rukia looked into her water glass, watching the transparent liquid shudder as she put it back down after her sip. She didn't want to look up—but she wasn't afraid, just annoyed. Her family would always be the same—Hisana blundering about somehow, Renji and Akamori being inexplicably happy even when they were sad, Toshiro being a dick, and Byakuya being absent. Her violet-blue eyes narrowed a bit—even with Ichigo here, she couldn't avoid her own emotions.
She looked around the table quietly. Renji was eating his salad with little interest; Hisana and Akamori were chatting softly about pregnancy; in her mother's arms, Chihiro was looking around, just like Rukia was; Toshiro was glaring at a tomato on the cutting board across the room; and Ichigo was looking at her.
There wasn't any particular inflection in his gaze. He just seemed to be observing her, if anything, his brow relaxed, his jaw muscles moving as he chewed the salad leaves. Her lips formed a woebegone smile on their own, which was just fine. He averted his eyes back to his plate. Typical man.
"So, Rukia," Hisana chirped, ending her conversation with Akamori as smoothly as she had begun it. "How's school been?"
I've already told you about it. God. "It's just fine. Thank you for asking." When she spoke, Rukia found her voice dry and trite. Her mother looked a little hurt by the lack of warmth, her cornflower eyes downcast.
"Oh. Good." Hisana picked up her fork and speared a maraschino cherry. "I... well, how's the salad?"
"You did a good job," Renji said thickly.
Unsure of what else to do, Rukia watched Toshiro. He had given up on the tomato and was now eating conservatively, only sampling the darkest leaves. Noticing her stare, he raised an eyebrow, and she looked down at her untouched food.
Not expecting the warm hand that enveloped her own, Rukia's head shot toward Ichigo. He kept eating as if nothing had happened under the table. She took a quick look around; no one else had noticed. Ichigo's thumb drifted across her knuckle repeatedly; stroking; a gesture of sympathy, Rukia realized. She also knew, though, that this was no fairy tale, and she wasn't going to calm down automatically at his touch. It did put her at ease, though, just a little.
"Mom," Akamori said quietly.
"Yes?" Hisana smiled at her oldest child.
"Go look at the oven. Your rotisserie is getting ready to burn." She said it calmly, but Hisana gave a little yelp and jumped up from the table, rushing over to the over and yanking it open. A faint smell of charcoal permeated the room.
"Oh!" Hisana was disheveled, her hair sticking to her forehead, as she shoved on her oven mitts and pulled out the huge pig, complete with apple. "It's a little crisp, heh, but I do like food well done!"
Toshiro sniffed disdainfully and murmured, "Indeed," but no one heard, for the doorbell rang at the exact same time. Sensing that it was time to help, Rukia put Ichigo's hand back in his own lap and ambled to the counter, grabbing the huge tray and putting it in the middle of the table.
She could hear her mother in the foyer. "Byakuya, dear, I didn't expect—"
And her father's voice: "I can tell that you are unprepared, Hisana. Don't fret over things like this." His shoes echoed throughout the first floor, and, frozen on the spot, by the living room, half turned, Rukia could see Ichigo stiffen at the table, sitting straight up in his seat. Thinking fast, she rushed back into her seat, moving it as far away from Ichigo as possible.
"The office... let you go early?" Hisana said hurriedly.
"Of course they did not. I finished my work more quickly than I thought I would." Byakuya's voice grew louder.
Akamori and Renji seemed as sullen as they had before Byakuya's return; Chihiro was as indeterminable as ever; Toshiro was indifferent. Ichigo, she could see, was the only one who was sweating bullets. He usually didn't get this worked up—even about her father.
As he entered the room, you could hear a pin drop. Her father stopped in his tracks, menacing in his silence and pure black suit. His eyes had lost all of their blueness; gray was all that remained.
And he just strode right by Ichigo, taking his place at the head of the table.
No yelling. No weapons. Rukia was surprised her mouth wasn't hanging open. Ichigo's face seemed to be on the border between relief and suspicion.
Rukia could practically hear Hisana's brain whirring with confusion - or maybe it was just the echo of her own. Her father picked up all of his utensils with the right hands, showing no sign of being ruffled. She swallowed the latest lump her throat had created and took a drink of water. "Welcome home," she said courteously, smiling. Her father nodded and ate his salad in small, sophisticated bites - ones so sophisticated, she felt like a ruffian. Ichigo was watching Byakuya, too, but he didn't seem nearly as nervous as she. Damn him.
"So, dear," Hisana said, sounding surprisingly composed. She gestured a small hand across the table. "This is—"
"Ichigo Kurosaki," Byakuya finished, his steely eyes flitting up. "The young man Rukia has been seeing. Yes, I'm aware of him." He reached for the salt. Who eats salt on salad? thought Rukia acridly. She had anticipated so much more fury than this... and semi-automatic pistols. But that had been a little bit of a stretch, considering.
"They're not seeing each other," his wife replied, shaking her head. A look of befuddlement came over her face. "Wait, you knew that Ichigo... that Ichigo's not a girl?"
"For quite a long time."
"And... you're not angry?" Rukia said, not believing the words that escaped her own mouth. "Y-you're not mad that I lied--we all lied? Akamori, Renji?!" she looked from one to the other, and noted the again despondent expressions on their faces. Neither was as engrossed in the scene as they would be on any other day.
For the first time in a while, her father locked eyes with her. "Rukia, of course I am angry. However, I have learned—from past experiences—that restricting other peoples' choices often ends in nearly losing my children."
She looked at Ichigo, a little embarrassed. His lips were pursed in what she knew was a suppressed grin. When violet met amber, he freed his mouth, and the smile took over his face. She reveled in him again, unable to stop herself... until Toshiro cleared his throat.
"As the biggest apparent conflict in our family has been resolved," he said, his tone indicating that he was looking for permission, "I have to ask something."
"What is it, dear?" Hisana asked warmly, her shoulders less tense now.
Toshiro blinked. "I'm asking your permission, Aunt Kuchiki, to spend my Christmas holiday at my family's villa." As he ended the sentence, a look of hope crept over Toshiro's face. Rukia smiled. He's a good actor, the twisted little... "Of course, I'd be happy to spend the break here, as I—"
"No, no, go on!" Hisana raised her glass of champagne. "Have fun." She glanced at her husband, who was still eating as quietly as he had been before. "Byakuya," she said.
"Yes?"
"Remember that I'm due in just one week's time!" she said with a smile.
A subtle smile played across his lips. "I remember, yes."
Why is he so happy?! Rukia tapped at her plate with anxious, wondering fingers. I know! He's pretending to be all nice to Ichigo, but really, he's going to kill him when he tries to drive away with me... or... like, a drive-by... but, that's really not Byakuya's style... a hit man! Her eyes darted around the room, looking for black-clad people lurking in the shadows. Finding nothing, she asked, "Can someone pass the Catalina?"
Renji handed her the Italian dressing, his eyebrows still locked in the frown that he - and Akamori - had worn almost all day. Rukia felt her forehead crease, exasperated by their chagrin. She looked up at Ichigo, who was eating ravenously now that he was sure he'd live through the meal. Toshiro sat, his lips curved in a quiet satisfaction, crunching away at his salad.
"So, uh..." Ichigo asked, his search for a topic evident in his eyes, "How long have you been in the workforce, Mr. Kuchiki?"
Byakuya frowned slightly. "Thirty years next April." He watched Ichigo meticulously—if he was going to allow the boy's presence, surely he would inspect it to death. Rukia rolled her eyes faintly.
"That's a long time." Ichigo looked down at his salad, taking in the leafy dish with abandon. Byakuya ignored this and continued eating. Rukia was grateful for his attempts to be civil toward Ichigo -- it made her life easier. Their eyes met, and for a moment there, it seemed as if Ichigo were going to wink, but had decided against it.
The room was silent as everyone finished their salad. Usually, her sister and Renji would be talking the night away, Byakuya wouldn't be here, and Hisana would be asleep. Now, things were just weird.
And then there was Ichigo. Why on Earth had he wanted to eat dinner with her circus of a family? Many times, she'd wondered why he even liked her at all. Not necessarily ... that way... but at all? Was there anything charming about her?
Hisana served her roasted ham with impeccable speed and precision, dicing the meat and floating about the table to put it on everyone's plate. Rukia was impressed; what she lacked in credentials, Hisana made up for in skill. She smiled brightly as she sat down in her seat, looking at the expressions of longing everyone wore. "Go on," she said brightly. "Just dig in."
Byakuya's calculating eyes went back to Ichigo and Rukia. "What do you plan to do with your future, young man?" he asked.
Ichigo cleared his throat. "Well, sir, I'm fifteen, and I've just been thinking about school lately."
"No plans?" Byakuya arched an ebony brow. "How careless." As if to accent his disdain, he promptly replaced his fork on the place mat. "Though, it's not exactly a surprise."
Rukia's eyes narrowed. Fuck you, Byakuya. How dare you judge him? And I thought... that things had taken a turn for the better... stupid Rukia. She stabbed her salad with the wrong fork, but damn it all to hell, she would use whichever fork she grabbed first. Ichigo was being a perfect gentleman, and her father was spurning him again. She began to realize that while he was very wealthy and impeccable, her father had horrible people skills.
Hisana smiled. "How is it?"
There was a small murmur of approval from everyone except Chihiro, who couldn't speak anyway. Fulfilled, Hisana set back to eating her meal as quietly as everyone else. Rukia caught Ichigo sneaking glares at her father, and nudged him with her foot. He stopped.
Seeming deterred by the lack of conversation, Hisana started to chatter on about her plans for the break, something about mailing everyone their presents because she hadn't had time to wrap them, and other things Rukia mostly tuned out in favor of the quiet glare-battle between her father and Ichigo, which had just picked back up again.
Byakuya cleared his throat. "Renji, have you finished your report for this month?"
The redhead looked up, his eyes dim. "Yeah. Last week."
"Did you include the summary of our yearly goals, as I asked?"
"Yes, sir." Renji poked at his salad.
Appeased, Kuchiki kept eating, his shady gray orbs shifting to meet Rukia. "How has the semester been?"
"Fine."
"I would be very pleased if you took some time to join a sports team."
"Sports?" Rukia felt a huge weight drop down on her conscience.
"Yes. Like your cousin."
She might have imagined it, but a gleam of triumph danced across Toshiro's eyes.
"You know I've never been good at them..." What is he thinking? Am I getting fat? Rukia glanced down at her thighs, and they seemed fine, but when she looked up at her father, he was adamant.
"Tennis would work well for you," he said.
Ichigo looked amused. She fought the intense urge to slap him silly. "I think it may, too." She pictured herself in a skimpy little white skirt, prancing around, and was repulsed.
As if the thought had crossed his mind as well, Byakuya sniffed disdainfully. "That isn't a good choice. Perhaps running—?"
"Dear," Hisana said. "Let's not talk about this at Christmas dinner, all right? Rukia will do sports, but that's not the point at this moment."
Rukia will do sports?! Since when do you make decisions like that!? The younger Kuchiki daughter glared daggers at both her parents, but they were both eating now, unaware of her blatant anger. Dissatisfied, she picked mercilessly at her thumbnail until Hisana announced that it was time for cake.
The sugary confection put her in a better mood; after all, it was cake. A yummy vanilla creme one, too. The only ones who didn't seem happier were Byakuya, Renji and Akamori, but that was to be expected. It wasn't as if Rukia wasn't worried about her sister—she just figured that any problems Akamori was having were probably minute things.
After a bit more useless talk, Hisana made a beeline for Rukia. "So, ah, Rukia... you're taking... Home Economics, is that right?"
This was an unexpected question. "Yes...?" she said.
"Ah." Hisana smiled awkwardly, her eyes darting about. "Yes, that'll help you with cooking... and housework..."
I don't plan to be a dumb housewife. "You're right." Rukia chewed her meat, watching Ichigo dump blue cheese on his own portion. That's... odd taste. What is he, Orihime? "So far we've only made pancakes."
"Yoruichi ate them all," Ichigo muttered, putting the dressing down.
Rukia rolled her eyes. "Half the class burned them anyway."
"Hitsugaya got so pissed he spit in his," Ichigo sniggered.
Toshiro sent a surreptitious glare the orange-head's way, but he was too engrossed in his food to take any notice. The snowy-haired boy looked uninterestedly down at his meal.
"Akamori," Hisana said quietly. "Have you figured out what you're going to do yet?"
Her oldest child's brown eyes were limpid. "What I'm going to do?" she asked dryly.
"Yes. About school." Her mother smiled.
Akamori looked disdainfully back at her. "Be realistic, Mom," she said lowly, and Renji didn't even try and argue with her as he usually did. Hisana was taken aback by her tone, apparently, because she blushed and looked at her husband.
God, Mom. Why are you so childish? Rukia stabbed her meat.
Ichigo noticed her behavior and frowned, but he had long since learned that when it had to do with her family, Rukia shouldn't be bothered.
The rest of dinner passed uneventfully, save for Hisana's strained attempts at conversation. Rukia willfully swallowed the rest of her meal and sat there, sipping her water, as she tried to avoid making eye contact with Ichigo. He must surely hate her, now that he knew about all of the screwy... No, don't do that. Have more faith in Ichigo. He deserves it.
"Okay," Hisana said. "Akamori, could you help me clear the plates?"
Rukia's mind was somehow isolated from the clatter of plates and the persistent monotone of Byakuya's voice. Her mind was on everything it shouldn't have been; how she was going to pass the semester, her Christmas present, how she was going to pick a stupid sport, her fucking hair, and—
As cheesy as it sounded, Ichigo's eyes pulled her out of it. "Hey, Rukia... can I talk to outside for a second?"
There was no deliberation; she nodded immediately, jumping out of her chair and making a beeline for the front door. Ichigo gave her a blank look, making a small anxious demon gnaw at her intestines. What? Did I do something wrong?
They walked off the porch, onto the serpentine stone path that led down to the gates. Snow had gathered all over the path, causing Rukia to watch her feet. God, how annoying. I should have gotten my coat. This dress is too short. Damn.
Ichigo seemed like was going to say something, but caught himself and stopped, and ineffable shape settling onto his face.
Rukia's lips puckered, annoyed. "What's that look for?" she demanded, her hands sliding into their rightful place on her hips.
"Nothing," he said blankly. As Rukia watched him, she noticed something, far off in the confines of his features. Was it... disappointment?
"No," she said, her voice increasing in volume, "Tell me why you're acting like a total jackass. Ever since this morning you've been in a horrible mood!" Well, that wasn't totally true. He was happy during dinner. It was just that... in the deepest level of her mind, she must have known that arguing with Ichigo led to things that... weren't always bad? Good? No... But it was just natural -- and at the same time, there was something so... different about the look on his face.
She knew that part of it was dissatisfaction, somehow, but there was another emotion floating on the outskirts of that twisted aura of his. Something between... stress.. and longing...
She knew the name for that emotion.
"What do you want me to do, Rukia? How do you want me to prove myself?!" he didn't sound as annoyed as he usually did, which struck some odd chords within the raven-haired teen. If anything... he sounded a little desperate. His brow, usually corrugated with some form of anger... was contracting with something like impatience, like worry... and then there was that third emotion in his eyes...
But this was Ichigo, Rukia thought to herself. He couldn't feel that emotion—it just wasn't in him, was it?
Mom says everyone gets those feelings, Rukia reminded herself, her own forehead crinkling with indecision. She looked at Ichigo with a consternation she had never felt before. "What is wrong with you?!" she found her voice hoarse. "Ever since the kiss, you've been acting so different toward me! What gives, Kurosaki?!"
Angry again, Ichigo said, "And you've been a real bitch!"
Rukia felt her anger subsiding to make way for shock. "What did you just call me!?" she felt her fists clench, sweat bead on her forehead, and her legs stiffen like lead.
Ichigo's tone roughened. "That's right! You're a bitch! I'm pretty sure you know already, Kuchiki!"
"Yeah, well, you're a pompous asshole for someone who's done nothing!" Rukia shot back, anger welling up, threatening to burst through her at any moment. "And you don't have any manners!"
"Manners!?" Ichigo got down in her face. "Manners!? You can't defend me in front of that shithead of a cousin of yours, or your fuckwad of a father—you're trying to lecture me about manners!?"
Ichigo felt his head lash in the opposite direction, accompanied by a flaring pain. His eyes burned, watering, and his fist clenched, knuckles popping out like little white islands amidst his skin, but as he seethed, he knew he couldn't hit her back.
"Don't you scream in my face." Rukia's tone had reposed, become light once again.
"If you were a guy," he grounded out, "I would've decked you by now..."
"I know you would've." Rukia looked at the mark on Ichigo's face—a perfect crimson hand print, marring the tough-guy image he was still trying to maintain. "But if you did, you know I would never speak to you again."
"...Right." Ichigo looked her in the eye, touching the slap mark lightly, "It amazes me how you can always get me to shut my mouth."
"I just know you," she said simply, trying to ignore the barrage of emotions that were flashing through her like a marquee. "And, Ichigo, deep down... you like it when I'm happy."
He shook his head, his voice low. "It's not that deep down. What, you think I want to fight with you? Pf. Na, that's just..." he stuck his hands in his pockets. "That's just the way we are, Rukia."
"You think we'll always fight...?" she trailed off, suddenly getting an image in her head -- herself, older, smiling alongside that faceless husband she'd imagined before, her hand held loosely in his, her eyes a bit cold.
"I know we will," Ichigo confirmed, smiling crookedly.
As sudden as before, the faceless man started to grow taller... thinner, more muscular, with a shock of bright orange hair, impish brown eyes, and a barely-there smile.
"And now that we're alone..." his brow knitted a bit. "I want to talk about what happened at the dance. I know you've been thinking about it."
"Ichigo... why are you..." she thought this over and realized he was being... open? About something so personal?
"Rukia, don't interrupt, damn it. ...You were acting really pissed this morning. I went along with it."
"You said you understood," she said, her eyes narrowing a little. "It's pretty damn obvious that I was having a PMS moment."
"Come on," he groaned. "Every second of your life is a PMS moment. This wasn't just that, Rukia, you..." he was having difficulty explaining -- and they had both seen it coming. Ichigo was an exclusively closed book, holding everything inside him. Now... now was one of those rare moments... "You're as hacked-off about it as I am about it."
For once, Rukia didn't frown. "So what if I'm mad? I'm allowed to be."
"We already know we both... liked it." Ichigo's voice faltered, on the tightrope between embarrassment and determination. "I didn't know why I did it. I wasn't planning on it... but I just looked at you and you looked at me... and then there was that sappy music, and I—" he broke off, staring at his hands, which were trembling very faintly. His mouth turned down, upset by this break in his regime.
"Ichigo," Rukia said in a low voice. "You don't have to apologize to me... it's okay. I can forget about it."
"Don't forget about it," he said quickly.
"Isn't that what you wanted, though?" Rukia was confused, peering at Ichigo through strands of loose hair. His eyes were downcast, but his brow was relaxed as if he were sleeping.
He made a soft noise in the back of his throat -- a suppressed sigh, she realized, as he looked back up at her, his scowl renewed. "I'm just wondering something."
"..." Rukia let out her breaths slowly now, trying to figure it out before she would have to ask him.
"If I..." He pressed down into his palms, his fingernails gouging bright red marks. He watched her before him, standing in her little red dress, her huge violet eyes concerned, curious. She had abandoned her front, just for now... while he was enduring the question. "If I did it... just..."
"Ichigo," she said quietly. "Just tell me. I won't be mad."
He looked at her then, irritation marring his inquiry. "Rukia, stop acting so understanding. That makes it worse, all right?"
"Being understanding makes it worse," Rukia repeated contemptuously. "How does that make any sense, Ichigo?" despite the tone of her voice, she slid a small hand over his. Ichigo didn't redden as he usually did, or pull away from her. She suspected it was because he was fascinated by her touch, as had been made evident that morning in the dorm. There had never been a woman Ichigo had trusted enough to touch him. It was offhanded, but the thought warmed her.
"It's just that I don't feel as stupid when you're acting stupid, too. You know... what I'm trying to say here... like..."
"Like, you're lonely. And it helps to know that I'm human, too." She still couldn't get over the fact that they weren't arguing... but at the same time, she knew that something was going to happen. It always did... when they got along. "Just tell me, Ichigo—"
"If I did it again, would you be pissed?" he said quickly, focusing on the sky, not wanting to see her. What if she did hate him for implying...? And it was Rukia! Rukia! Ichigo inwardly cursing himself, unsure of what words he could use to describe himself.
"Well, Ichigo..." Rukia sighed. "I don't really think I would. I would be confused, more than anything. Like last time."
His heart beat faster. Was this luck? Could she really be okay with that idea...? He swallowed. "If you're confused, we could try and talk about it," he said, not believing the words that were escaping his mouth. I'm actually being agreeable. What the hell?
"What is there to talk out? In the end, it's just one thing—we're both too stubborn."
"Too stubborn for what?"
"You know what."
"No, I don't." Ichigo caught her wrist as she started to pull her hand away. "Now it's your turn, Rukia. Tell me."
Rukia's breath caught. He was being insistent, for once in his life... on something she watched him, his eyes alight with determination, something occurred to her.
Fuck. I might actually love him.
"Ichigo... what are you expecting me to say?" she asked softly, her eyes downcast as she thought it over. Did she love Ichigo? As cliche and creepy as the word was... it seemed to describe her feelings accurately. So that's it, huh? It's that simple?
"What's wrong?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning in closer. "You having another emo moment?"
"I'm not the one having an emo moment. You are."
"How's that?" his tone segued from concerned to competitive in less than a second.
"You were just freaking out over kissing me. Like it's something amazingly amazing, or whatever.''
''You're fishing for compliments," Ichigo said.
"Well, that depends on whether I deserve the compliments or not." She smiled faintly, picking at a cracked fingernail absentmindedly, bending the broken piece back and forth. Ichigo watched this curiously, but she didn't quite notice him. "Do I?"
His smile faltered, anxiety loading itself into an ineffable mass at the top of his lungs. I can't tell her that, I can't. Things'll change... "I wouldn't know, either way."
"You're saying I was your first kiss?"
Ichigo's heart beat faster. "That's none of your business," he bit out, but as soon as the words left his lips, he knew that his efforts were futile. It was painfully obvious that he had never gotten that close to a girl. Angered by his own foolishness, Ichigo rolled his eyes and looked away, trying to block Rukia from sight. But she was like a limb that had fallen asleep – you couldn't avoid it, and it was at the same time pleasurable and painful to shake out.
"Obviously, you were mine," Rukia said, actually able to control the shakiness in her voice. "Does that satisfy you?"
"No, it doesn't," Ichigo muttered. "Tell me again why you're acting like this."
Her eyes narrowed. "I couldn't put it into words if I tried. What makes you think you're the perfect person, here!?"
"I didn't say I was."
Her nose crinkled. "Ichigo."
"What?"
She made a noise between a sigh and a scoff, then squeezed her fist. "Let's just stop fighting, okay? Just for right now. I don't want Christmas to end this way."
As Ichigo thought about it, that made more and more sense. When he looked back on Christmas, he thought of happiness and presents. In the future, he speculated that he wouldn't much like looking back on bickering with Rukia. "Fine."
"And if you don't mind, I'd like my present now." She smiled crookedly.
He blinked. "Your present..." he thought it over, considering everything that had just happened, and felt like a serious fool. "It's stupid."
Rukia frowned, throwing her towel on the floor. "Well, you won't know I think that until you tell me what it is."
"It's not your opinion on it," he muttered. "As much as it is that I think it's a stupid gift."
"Ichigo." She said firmly. "Nothing you do is stupid."
"Quit trying to build me up, Kuchiki."
"I'm not."
"You won't even like it. You'll say it's dumb."
"I don't know what it is."
"No, but Iknow you."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"When a guy gives a girl a ring, it's supposed to mean romance!" he said roughly, shaking his head at the last word. "Obviously you don't want that, so, it's pretty much pointless now."
Rukia was silent for a moment. "You bought me a ring?"
"I knew it," he said darkly. "I knew you would think it was dumb."
"Nobody's ever bought me anything like that before," she said, no real inflection in her voice. It wasn't that she was being cold; in reality, she was just stunned. "Not ever..." she blinked, taking it in for a moment.
"...Ch." Ichigo looked down at his feet, his forehead locked into what seemed like the deepest frown he had ever worn. "Whatever."
Rukia's lips twisted. "Whatever?"
"Yeah. Whatever you want. I'll take it back, and we can forget." He turned to look at her, the scowl alleviating a bit at the expression on her face. Rukia was smiling gently, her eyes soft. "What's that look for?" he demanded, his face heating up.
"What do you think it's for, Kurosaki?" she said plainly, raising an eyebrow. "I don't understand how you're so embarrassed that you pretty much gave me the best gift ever."
"Best gi—" Ichigo cut himself off, shaking his head rapidly. "Yeah. All right, Rukia."
"Stop downing yourself, already, Ichigo. It was a good gift."
"No."
"What, do you just not want yours?"
Ichigo's features became obscure, confusion openly warring on his face. "Mine? I thought you wouldn't—"
The ginger-haired man didn't have time to finish, for all of his words were blanching off into nothing under the touch of Rukia's lips. It was vexing that he wasn't even surprised, but actually feeling so very—
deprived?
And he was... responding, his long fingers entwined in her thick hair, pulling it as he took in the feeling of their cosseting mouths. It was so different from before, awkwardness to the wind, just them. They weren't best friends, enemies, lovers, or anything. They were just Ichigo and Rukia.
Hot waves of her breath grazed his damp lips as he kept moving them, lunging forward to capture more of that mellifluous sensation. Rukia elicited cut-off little moans, but he could find no initiative to care. This was now. This was what he had been icing over for... God knew how long, and he wouldn't let her meticulous behavior end it.
And Rukia didn't want to. Her arms moved instantaneously to his back, moving their bodies closer. The sound and taste of Ichigo's guttural sighs were gratifying, almost to the point of pain, and it was just as empyreal to know that it was because of her, because of her that Ichigo Kurosaki was being subservient, giving into his feelings, letting her do it.
She felt her back come into contact with something; the wrought iron of the front gates. Ah. Rukia felt oxygen spilling swiftly from her lungs, and she pulled away, breathing rapidly, struggling to reestablish her mellow disposition.
Just as she saw disappointment sashay across Ichigo's face, she pulled him back to her by his tie, and continued their heedless teenage kissing. His legs pinned her to the metal, arms on the small of her back. It didn't matter that she was freezing, or that she wasn't being a lady—fuck that—all that mattered were those lips, and this moment, and, oh, tongue.
She opened her lips, her body quaking as their tongues undulated together, tickling. The feeling of this, her emotions spilling into it, the kiss, one she had wanted... or, perhaps, wanted was the wrong word. Needed was more adequate. The raven-haired girl wanted to respond with dynamic skill and prestige, but she had neither of those things; nonetheless, all of her inhibitions were slowly falling away, like a broken continent crumbling into the sea.
Ichigo's tongue drifted across the roof of her mouth before he removed it, kissing with closed lips again. Disappointment mingled with relief; if they had continued that, Rukia feared she would be unable to contain herself. But any part of him was enough, as long as that raw feeling inside her chest was being eclipsed by his warmth.
The most perfect feeling in the world ended far too soon.
Their lips parted with a wet sound, and when Ichigo made to pull away, he found that he couldn't do it. He remained there, holding Rukia against the gate, his burning eyes locked with hers. "...So this is..." he said softly, his tone sided with whispers and sighs.
"This is what we both wanted," Rukia finished simply, a soft smile creeping up. She was unable to think clearly, their breath together, visible in the cold.
He hoisted her upward, then down from the gate. "...I wasn't expecting that."
"I wasn't either," she muttered, but there was no resentment or bad edges to her voice. There was just a velvety, peaceful feeling bouncing through her torso. What's that called? Bliss, right? ...Well, finally.
Ichigo tilted his head to the side. "We should get inside, Rukia. Your mom'll be wondering where you went."
"I don't think she would care," Rukia said vaguely.
"Well, whatever. I want some cake, anyway," Ichigo's tone was just as indeterminable as her own, which was actually rather expectable, given... what had just happened. Rukia could still hear her heart hammering wetly in her ears, but she was glad they weren't talking about it. That would just make things more awkward.
Some of the things I thought during that kiss were kind of... corny, Rukia thought offhandedly as they strolled across the snowy path. But sometimes, life is just corny, I guess. Especially with Strawberry and I.
When she opened the door, Rukia was met by the sight of Renji and Akamori pulling on their coats. A frown worked its way across her face. "Where are you two—"
Her sister's voice was thick. "We just have to go home, Rukes." She smiled dolefully, taking Chihiro from the waiting Renji. "I have to clean."
Rukia resisted the urge to scoff loudly. Akamori never cleaned. "Alright. I'll see you later, then," she replied nebulously, her arms tight at her sides. Clean. Stupid excuse. "Call me, okay?"
"We will," Renji said faintly. "Bye." The tall man sidestepped Rukia to get out the door, pulling his hood up to shield himself from snow. Akamori followed slowly, the ivory flakes quickly dotting her pitch-black hair.
"Why are they acting so strange and guarded?" said Toshiro's voice softly, making Rukia jump. She hadn't seen him leaning against the wall near the chandelier. "Color me confused on this."
Hisana looked over from the counter. "Oh, I wouldn't worry too much. Akamori's always been a bit of a closed book."
"That doesn't mean she gets to act obscure just for the sake of attention," the white-haired boy replied waspishly, picking at his fingernails.
Like everyone else, Hisana was used to Toshiro's venomous disposition. "I don't quite think she's looking for attention this time," she said incredulously. "I don't think..." she got out a knife and sliced the large vanilla crème cake. "Ah, let's just let her be," she said, the volume of her voice very low.
Byakuya rounded the corner, apparently coming from the bathroom. Rukia saw Ichigo visibly tense beside her, but her father strode right on by, going toward his wife. Toshiro smirked at her, and Rukia shook her head back at him.
"Hisana," said her father.
Obviously surprised by her husband's sudden appearance, Hisana blinked. "Oh, hello, dear," she said faintly, retrieving plates from the cabinet. "What is it?"
The black-haired man's face was impassive for a long while. "I'll talk to you about it after dessert," he said finally.
"Okay." Hisana smiled a bit and made her way toward the table.
Ichigo's cell phone broke out through the din. "H—Dad," he moaned. "Uh-huh. Yeah. Why?" he frowned intensely, his mouth twisted. "You... all right. I'll be there soon." He closed it with a resounding snap, and sighed. "Sorry, Rukia, I've got to go."
For the first few seconds after hearing that, Rukia felt like she'd been kicked in the chest. "Why?" she demanded, remembering how lenient Isshin usually was with his son.
His eyes were off-put. "My dad wants me home to open presents with Yuzu and Karin."
My family doesn't... well... we're dysfunctional... Rukia bit her lip. "...A-all right, then. I'll see—"
"I'll call you tomorrow," he said with a nod, but at the same time, Rukia felt something nudge against her thigh. Looking down, she saw his hand, clutching a little black box. That ring? She took it quietly, able to hear her heart in her ears again. What am I supposed to...
She didn't quite realize that Ichigo was leaving until she heard the door shut behind him, and as usual when she was upset, a lump started to develop in her esophagus.
Her cousin's steely seafoam eyes met hers. "Oi, Kuchiki," he said in a low voice, "Take that upstairs."
A little prickle in the back of Rukia's head said, is... Toshiro being considerate? Wow, this has been a weird day... Perhaps it was her instincts, or perhaps it just seemed wise, but Rukia followed Toshiro's advice and climbed the stairs to her bedroom.
Maybe a small part of her had thought that the room had magically rearranged itself when she left it, but the place was still in shambles. She placed the tiny box on her vanity with an almost silent thump, and stood staring at it for a long while. A ring, eh? She smiled a little.
When she got back downstairs, Toshiro, Byakuya and Hisana were seated at the table, all looking expectantly in her direction. The younger Kuchiki daughter decided to simply sit with them.
"Rukia," her father said heavily.
She glanced up at him. "Yes?"
"Your mother thinks it is a good idea for you to take up tennis as an extracurricular activity." His gray eyes were calm. "And as it happens, there are factors within that that would affect my company, on the whole."
"Such as—w-what?" Rukia bit down on her cake.
Byakuya cleared his throat. "As I have heard from Toshiro, the coach is Kaien Shiba, who happens to be the son of Usamui Shiba, a business associate of mine. If you were to become acquaintances with him, it would help the two companies."
"Okay." Rukia recalled seeing Kaien a few times around the hallways; he was upbeat, bright and happy, he didn't seem like he would do her any harm.
"Don't forget about Tasuko," Hisana said quietly.
"Ah, right." Byakuya placed his fork on the plate. "Tasuko Kouji is the heir to Kouji Industries, our top competitor. He is also the Japanese Junior Tennis Champion. You would do very well to befriend him as well." He gave her a look as if to say, like you have a choice.
"Right..." Japanese Junior Champion? Grand. She was expected to rub elbows with both Kaien and Tasuko... but at least she knew that Kaien was relatively good-natured, unlike most rich people At least she would have Kaien, right? He was nice.
But what was the deal with this tennis thing, anyway? She wasn't a bargaining chip, but evidently, there wasn't anything she could do to deflect her father's orders.
They finished their cake; Hisana bustled about as always, hurriedly righting everything. Toshiro skulked upstairs, and Rukia just sat there, staring at her now empty placemat. All of her school stuff... and now tennis, on top of it? Are they seriously trying to kill me?!
Hisana looked at her. "Oh, Rukia. Make sure Toshiro stays in your room, we're repainting Akamori's, and the fumes..."
Her younger daughter nodded vaguely, getting up from the table to alert the young Hitsugaya of the sleeping arrangements. He simply nodded when she told him, and at that moment, she noticed something off about him. It was the way his eyes reflected everything; they were weighed down with a thick sorrow. But really, what else was new?
She strode into her room, picking up her phone from the vanity as she was struck with the urge to call Ichigo. With a sigh she remembered that he was busy with family things; now alone, her brain flitted back to the evening's events. A stab of pleasure clanked at her heart at the memory—
Does this mean we're dating?
She shook her head quickly at the thought. It was just too heavy for her conscience.
In my shoes, just to see, what it's like, to be me... I'll be you, let's trade shoes, just to see what it'd be like to feel your pain, you feel mine, go inside each others' minds...
Renji glanced at Akamori, his features still locked into the frown they'd been in all day. "Are you gonna get in bed?" he asked.
She looked at him from her spot on the porch, her eyes empty. "Yeah. Soon."
"When is soon?" he leaned against the door frame, cold in his pajamas. "It's ten o'clock already. You can't mope all night."
"You would mope too if it happened to you." Akamori's voice was not accusatory or angry; she was as nonchalant as she would have been if they were discussing the weather. "But you're a guy."
"Don't think it doesn't hurt me," the redhead said, his defensive streak rearing its head. He walked closer to her, as if daring her to insult him again.
"I never said that." Her black hair was damp and messy, deeply contrasting with her stark white face. "I just don't understand it. What did we do wrong?"
"Nothing. Stop blaming yourself," Renji said firmly, his amber eyes hard.
"I'm the only one who can be blamed for it. It was so... I was barely even..." she glanced at her gloved hands, letting out a harried sigh. The heat from her breath swirled in the air.
"Akamori." He sighed. "I'm not trying to be an ass, here. But it happens to a lot of people, not just you. Like Ichigo's mom, Masaki, her first kid."
"Why did it have to be me?" she said quietly.
"That's a dumb question. Why not you?" he crossed his arms. "Look, we've had tough times. And we can get through this, too." God knew money had been tight since the very beginning, and she had adjusted to that well enough. But perhaps that had altered his perception of her; Akamori was barely out of high school, after all, and her emotions were unstable enough.
"Miscarriage, though?" she said darkly. "Couldn't we just lose a spare tire or something? Did we have to lose a baby?" her voice turned acerbic at that point, and she turned to stare him in the eyes, resentment reigning her own.
Renji didn't quite know what to say to that. He simply stood there, staring back at her in the same manner.
Akamori didn't have anything else to say, apparently. She stood up and trudged up the snowy stairs, walking straight past him into the house.
My heart's a tart, your heart is rent, my body's broken, yours is bent.
Rukia's eyes slid open, her sleep interrupted by a soft noise. She looked around the room, squinting through the dark, until she found Toshiro's sleeping bag on the floor, crumpled and empty.
She followed the sound through the room until she saw him, his knees up to his chest, against the wall, his neck slumped over. A look of worry and confusion found its way across Rukia's face; she scooted over to her light, switching it on and bathing the dark room in it.
Toshiro's head snapped up, and her heart beat like a hammer when she saw his face streaked with tears. "Go away, Kuchiki," he muttered, folding his arms over his knees.
Rukia blinked. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head. "Nothing anybody would care about," he said, his voice firm but shaken. "Go to sleep."
A weight in Rukia's chest told her to refuse. "No. I want to know what's wrong with you." It was odd for her to feel concerned about Toshiro; usually they fought like cats and dogs, simultaneously disliking one another in a faint way. They were family, but not close in any sense.
His eyes narrowed. "Think back, Kuchiki. To this summer."
This summ— Rukia's face blanched of color. Hiroko died. I can't believe I forgot th... "I'm sorry," she said, as loudly as she dared.
"Today is the five-month anniversary of my mother's death," Toshiro said bluntly, the fact that he had been crying still very obvious in his tone. "And nobody even bothered to pay her any—" his voice broke, become hoarse. "Respect."
She didn't know what to say. "Toshiro—I—"
"You don't have to apologize." A tear fell from his chin, creating a tiny dot on his pajama pants. "I'm just... I don't..." he picked at his fingernails, obviously trying to deflect. "The one who should apologize is my fucking bastard of a father." Anger ripped through his features.
"He's in jail. He's paying for what he did," Rukia pointed out, realizing immediately that this was the wrong thing to say.
"That doesn't bring my mother back to life, now does it?!" Toshiro snapped, his teeth bared. "I don't care how long he's in there. It won't be long enough."
"I wouldn't think it would be, either..." it was times like these that Rukia realized just how inept at dealing with other peoples' feelings she really was. That's because I'm selfish...
"I don't think you understand, but I can't expect you to." His green eyes were quiet but still simmering with rage; one good thing about Toshiro was, when he was angry, he knew where to draw the line. "Just get back in bed."
"Now that I'm awake, you know I won't be able to go back to sleep." Rukia smiled awkwardly, trying to level the ground between them. "Besides, I'm too excited. What do you think you got for Christmas?"
"I would say savings bonds." Toshiro wiped at his cheeks to rid them of tears. "You know your mother always gets those for me."
"Yeah. Maybe it's just because she doesn't know what you like. What do you want?" Even though she knew his mind was far from distracted, Rukia felt good for being able to help him, even if it was just a little.
Toshiro pursed his lips. "I'd like... a new soccer ball would be nice..." his teeth came down on his bottom lip. "But I could get one myself, so the point is probably moot..."
"No!" Rukia said quickly. "I mean, uh, my mom can get it for you. It's fine..."
Her cousin stared at his small feet. "That would be nice," he said softly.
Unsure of what else to talk about, Rukia pulled something she was sure he'd chatter on about. "How's Senna?"
He turned to look at her then. "Fine, I suppose. Why?" his eyes narrowed just a fraction of a bit.
Rukia shrugged. "I just wanted to know, how you guys were doing. You act like a couple."
A look of hurt spasmed across his eyes. "No," he said. "Senna has a boyfriend already." There was an undeniable bitterness to him as he said this, clear to Rukia as much as he tried to hide it. "She has no interest in me."
"You don't know that."
"Oh, but I do." Toshiro swallowed. "She made it clear last night."
"Why?" Rukia raised her eyebrows, remembering his behavior the previous evening. Just sort of prowling around, looking as if he had a hidden agenda.
The white-haired boy closed his eyes. "I—we—both made fools of ourselves. Alcohol changes people, you know... long story short." His gaze was penetrating. "We were... close to doing something... and she told me flatly that there wasn't any way. That she was in love already."
"Well if you were never with her... you can't be this hurt with good reason," Rukia said softly.
"I don't understand why it hurt so badly, I really don't." He let out a long sigh. "Today's been horrible," he said darkly, stretching his legs out on the floor. "And I know she didn't know, but Senna could've... well... I guess this would've been better if it had happened some other time."
Rukia felt a small guilt demon gnaw at her intestines as she thought about what she was going to say next. "Well... if she's already in love... she was doing a good thing by not... sleeping with you, because... well, what if her boyfriend found out? You'd feel worse."
"I thought about that, you're right. But somewhere, in my mind, I must think she's... mine, in some way, because I feel jealous every time she mentions anyone else... but... she was never mine."
"You love her," Rukia said quietly, "don't you?"
"No, I'm no idiot." Toshiro smiled dryly. "Infatuated is more like it. But still, no matter what word I give it, nothing changes. As a rule, I'm supposed to give myself time to get over things..." he sighed again and leaned his head against the wall, inhaling deeply. His eyes were still very bloodshot, his voice still heavy and moist.
Rukia felt heaps of guilt pile upon her; not only was Toshiro icing over the loss of his mother, but the rejection of a crush as well. That was a horrid combination. She knew that she had no room to sympathize with him; after all, she had never been in a relationship before, and had no experience.
Then she remembered Ichigo, and her senses began to dim. She shook her head as if trying to physically clear it of him; right now Toshiro was upset.
"Look," he said. "Let's just drop this. I don't want to talk about her anymore at all."
"Okay, fine with me." Rukia smiled softly, but it didn't quite reach her confused eyes. All of this, so suddenly, weighing down her already depressed cousin... since she had just found out, Rukia wondered just how long he had been pining over Senna. "You're too good for her anyway. She isn't worth your time."
"I thought I just said we were going to stop talking about her." His tone closed the subject indefinitely. "Now, Rukia. Let's do what all depressed people do."
"Cry?" Rukia blinked.
"No. Forget about it until tomorrow." He stood up, his body shaky, and crossed the room. "Get in your bed. I'm turning off the light."
I'm really sorry about the wait, here, guys. I was just... eh, life decided to screw me over. What else is new, really? But anyway. Yeah. The end of the chapter was pretty angsty and shizz. But oh well, you'll get over it, because I plan to work extra fast on the next chap. Oh, and I dedicate this chapter to... huh. I guess, nobody. Nobody. Oh, idea. I dedicate this chapter to all the reviewers. Because you're just an amazing pizza with extra awesomesauce. :D .__. Now I'm gonna get hungry.
About the chapter. Sorry it took so long. Again.
My life? Gone to hell. I was dumped for my neighbor. How annoying is that? But I've done a lot of thinking. And it was a mistake. I can do better, no? ;)
So, thoughts on the new filler arc? I think it's pretty damn epic, myself. And I have noticed a bit of IchiRuki. :3 Yayzorz. I also very much adore the new ending 'Mad Surfer'. Too much actually. I've been blaring it of late.
Mmnnn. I'm sleepy...
NOTE OF IMPORTANCE: Reviews make Miss Claire Leutz/xSilverWingsx so wonderfully happy. Please leave one.