Gastrosexual Bleach

By RukiLex

Chapter Five: Bittersweet Chocolate (IchiRuki)

Summary: One-shot Gastrosexual Bleach installment and my entry into the DeviantArt IchiRuki Club's Valentine's Day contest. Prompt – Rukia gives Ichigo a handmade chocolate for Valentine's Day. Please check out the club, and enjoy the chocolate! IchiRuki, canon, mild spoilers through Chapter 434.

Disclaimers: Bleach belongs to the ever-so-amazing Kubo Tite, although the idea is mine. Sensei, we love you! Happy Valentine's Day!

She stood outside the Kurosaki Clinic, balanced delicately on a lamppost, black shihakushō fluttering slightly in the mild breeze. The sun had set hours before. She had meant to arrive much earlier, hoping she would meet Isshin or Karin. But it was nearly midnight now, and she knew they would be long asleep.

Two years, she thought, watching the window where the small desk lamp cast shadows on the curtains. Ichigo's room. Had it really been that long since she had last seen him? He's there. Studying. Doing all the things he used to do before I first met him. As if nothing happened. As if…

"Stupid fool," she said aloud, frowning as she caught herself indulging in self-pity. There was never anything more than friendship between us. And now… Now, he was human. Free to live his life without the weight of her world on his heart.

Do you miss me, Ichigo?

Her hand strayed to the large pocket of her kosode and the small box within. One step, and she would be at his window. And yet, she hesitated.

She had died too young to have celebrated Valentine's Day in the world of the living. In the Soul Society, those who grew up and lived in the Rukongai had never even heard of Valentine's Day. That tradition had died, along with their souls. No, Rukia had first heard of the holiday when she had lived with the Kurosaki's, years before. Only then, she had been too preoccupied with her work to care about it. What was another stupid human holiday to a shinigami, anyhow?

You're afraid, she told herself, hesitating once more.

She had managed to convince Ukitake that she needed to come to the world of the living to check on Karin the day before. She was pretty sure he had known this was a ruse, although he did not challenge her. She had worked hard since her promotion to fukutaicho, trying to show everyone – especially her brother – that she deserved her new position. But it had been more than just wanting to prove herself that had driven her to work so many long hours: she had needed to stay busy, to keep her mind off of other things. Other people. One, in particular.

Ichigo.

He had always sacrificed himself for the good of others and, in the end, he had sacrificed the one thing that had linked him to her. Baka! At least he was alive. He could have easily died, she knew. How many times had she thought she had lost him forever and he had lived to fight again, by her side? Not this time, she thought, allowing herself a self-indulgent smile.

"I am not afraid," she announced, sending a few pigeons scurrying off a nearby telephone wire.

She had made the chocolate by herself in Urahara's kitchen, eschewing offers of help from Tessai and Ururu. They had seen her, face smeared with butter and cocoa, frowning and cursing the many failures that sat on the countertop. "I can do this myself!" she had announced with a scowl, and they had left quickly, afraid she might throw a utensil in their direction or, worse, her katana. She was a shinigami, after all. Making a simple piece of chocolate could hardly be more challenging than fighting Arrancar or Hollows. It was a matter of pride. She would do this herself.

Taking a deep breath, she jumped, alighting like a tightrope walker on the windowsill. The window was open and she hopped onto his bed without a sound, landing gracefully on one knee. Ichigo, bent over a book and listening to music with ear buds, looked at the bed and frowned. He saw nothing, of course, but he had sensed movement there.

For a few minutes, Rukia just watched him, noting the subtle changes in his features since she had last seen him. He looked older – less a boy now, more like a man. His shoulders seemed broader than she remembered, and he sat straighter in the chair than before. She wondered how much more had changed.

The room, on the other hand, was exactly as she remembered it. She glanced with longing at the closet, smiling to remember the nights she had spent sleeping inside of it, the pajamas she had stolen from the twins, and Kon, who now stayed at the Urahara Shōten, enjoying the new gigai Urahara had provided him.

I am no longer part of this world, she thought with a wistful expression.

Ichigo shifted, pulled the earphones from his ears, tipped the chair backwards, lacing his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. He, too, looked as though he were remembering something of the past. But, of course, she knew she was just imagining that he might be thinking about her. He had a different life now, one that she was no longer a part of.

Just like it should be.

She reached slowly into her pocket and withdrew the small box. It was not much bigger than a matchbox, made of decorated paper in shades of gold and red. She had folded it herself, pleased that the origami skills she had learned from her brother had not been wasted, after all. Gently, so as not to disturb the book or the papers on his desk, she set the box down by the lamp and stood there, leaning against the wall between the desk and the closet.

After a minute or two, perhaps more, Ichigo opened his eyes and reached for the open book. As he did so, the colorful box caught his eye. He frowned and looked around the room, his eyes traveling over the place where Rukia stood. Then, apparently deciding that the box must have been there all along, and he had just not realized it before, he picked it up in his right hand and looked at it carefully. His expression changed subtly, the edges of his mouth turning up just a bit. Rukia wondered if he thought one of his sisters might have left the box there – it was, after all, Valentine's Day.

The box sat on his open palm for a minute longer. At last, he set it back down on the desk and, gingerly, with the thumb and forefinger of each hand, pulled the box open. A single chocolate lay inside, held in place by a bit of tissue paper. He bent over the box and blinked in surprise. The small chocolate was a little lopsided, poorly formed, but there was no mistaking the look of recognition on his face at the misshapen ears of the rabbit face.

Rukia held her breath as Ichigo sat there, unmoving, looking at the chocolate. Happy Valentine's Day, Ichigo, Rukia thought, biting her tongue as her eyes burned with unshed tears. Without thinking, she reached out her hand to touch the edge of the desk, leaning on it, feeling far more tired than she had realized. She looked away from the desk, trying to regain her composure. It didn't matter that he couldn't see her; she would not cry. After all, she told herself, it's just a Giri-choko.*

He laughed, his high tenor now a bit lower pitched. At the same time, she felt a flicker of something on her hand and turned to see his fingers, covering hers. The touch was electric, and she gasped.

"You were always a lousy artist, Rukia," he said, looking directly at the place where she stood, the laugh still on his lips. "Kinda looks like a dead cat, but I like it."

"Ichigo," she whispered as his fingers curled around her tiny hand. She knew he hadn't heard her, because he did not react to her voice.

"I've missed you," he said with a grin.

"Me, too," she replied, knowing he wouldn't hear her, but needing to speak the words just the same.

"I will see you again, you know," he said, his face more serious now, determined.

She rubbed her free hand over her eyes. Damn you, Ichigo.

"I know you're angry with me," he said, his voice gentle now, almost tender. "But I know you know I only did what I had to do. I didn't mean to leave you."

She sniffled.

"I've realized a lot of things, since then," he continued, and she could tell it was difficult for him to admit this. "I know it's asking a lot," he added, "but I want you to wait for me."

Wait for you? she repeated to herself, dumbfounded.

"Abarai'd probably run me through for this," he said, laughing again. "But I was kinda thinking…" His voice trailed off and his lips pressed together; he looked quite uncomfortable.

She took her free hand and put it on top of his. I know, she thought. I was kind of thinking the same thing.

After a few minutes passed, she withdrew her hand from his and walked back over to the bed. "Thanks for the chocolate," he said, standing up and facing her. From her perch atop the bed, their faces were at nearly the same height.

You're welcome, she thought, reaching out to touch his cheek. She could tell by the look on his face that he had felt her touch.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Rukia," he said, as she hopped up onto the window ledge. "I'll see you around."

You can count on it, Ichigo, was her silent answer, as she jumped out of the window and into the cool night sky. I'm going to hold you to it!

* Author's Note: In Japan, women give chocolate on Valentine's Day for different reasons. Chocolate given to a "true love" is called "Honmei-choko." Chocolate given to men such as bosses, colleagues or male friends that women have no romantic interest in are called "Giri-choko (obligation chocolate)." "Giri" is a traditional Japanese concept, a mutual obligation. So if someone does you a favor, then you are obligated to do something for that person. Here, of course, Rukia is deluding herself to think that she's giving Ichigo anything but Honmei-choko! -Lex