"You dont want your pickle?" he asks, leaning forward and Rukia shakes her head and pushes her plate across the table to him. He eats it in two bites, then sits back again. "Ever been to Tokyo before?"

"Never," she says, a bit too forcefully.

He laughs. "It's not that bad."

"No, I'm sure it's not," she says, biting her lip. "Do you live there?"

"I grew up there."

"So where do you live now?"

"Karakura, obviously. I go to karakura University.."

Rukia's unable to hide her surprise. "You do?"

"What?"

"It's just so close."

"To what?"

She hadn't meant to say that, and now she feels her cheeks go warm.

"Really" he smiles. "I just finished up my first year there."

"So how come you're not home for the summer?"

"I like it over here," he says with a shrug. "Plus I won a summer research grant, so I'm sort of required to stick around."

"What kind of research?"

"I'm studying the fermentation process of mayonnaise."

"You are not," she says, laughing, and Ichigo frowns.

"I am," he says. "It's very important work. Did you know that twenty-four percent of all mayonnaise is actually laced with vanilla ice cream?"

"That does sound important," she says. "But what are you really studying?"

A man bumps hard into the back of Rukia''s chair as he walks past, then moves on without apologizing, and Ichigo grins. "Patterns of congestion in airports."

"You're ridiculous," Rukia says, shaking her head. She looks off toward the busy corridor. "But if you could do something about these crowds, I wouldn't mind it. I hate airports."

"Really?" Ichigo says. "I love them."

She's convinced, for a moment, that he's still teasing her, but then realizes he's serious.

"I like how you're neither here nor there. And how there's nowhere else you're meant to be while waiting. You're just sort of… suspended."

"That's fine, I guess," she says, playing with the tab on her soda can, "if it weren't for the crowds."

He glances over his shoulder. "They're not always as bad as this."

"They are if you're me." She looks over at the screens displaying arrivals and departures, many of the green letters blinking to indicate delays or cancellations.

"We've still got some time," Ichigo says, and she sighs.

"I know, but I missed my flight earlier, so this sort of feels like a stay of execution."

"You were supposed to be on the last one?"

She nods.

"What time's the wedding?"

"Noon," she says, and he makes a face.

"That'll be tough to make."

"So I've heard," she says. "What time's yours?"

He lowers his eyes. "I'm meant to be at the church at two."

"So you'll be fine."

"Yeah," he says. "I suppose Iwill."

They sit in silence, each looking at the table, until the muffled sound of a phone ringing comes from Ichigo's pocket. He fishes it out, staring at it with a look of great intensity while it carries on, until at last he seems to come to a decision and stands abruptly.

"I should really take this," he tells her, sidestepping away from the table. "Sorry."

She waves a hand. "It's okay," she says. "Go." She watches as he walks away, picking a path across the crowded concourse, the phone at his ear. His head is ducked, and there's something hunched about him, the curve of his shoulders, the bend of his neck, that makes him seem different now, she wonders who might be on the other end of the call. It occurs to her that it could very well be a girlfriend, some beautiful and brilliant student who wears trendy glasses and would never be so disorganized as to miss a flight by four minutes.

Rukia's surprised by how quickly she pushes the thought away. She glances down at her own phone, realizing she should probably call her mother and let her know

about the change in flights. But her stomach flutters at the thought of how they parted earlier, the ride to the airport in silence and then her unforgiving speech in the departures lane.

Now, sitting in the little airport café, her thumb hovers over the button on her phone. She takes a deep breath before pressing it, her heart pounding in the quiet spaces between rings.

The words she spoke earlier are still echoing in her mind; Rukia isn't superstitious by nature, but that she so thoughtlessly invoked the possibility of a plane crash right before her flight is nearly enough to make her sick. She thinks about the plane she was supposed to take, already well on its way across the ocean by now, and she feels a sharp sting of regret, hoping that she didn't somehow mess with the mysterious workings of timing and chance.

A part of her is relieved when she gets her mom's voice mail. As she starts to leave a message

about the change in plans, she sees Ichigo's approaching again. For a moment she thinks she

recognizes something in the look on his face, the same tortured worry she can feel in herself right now, but when he spots her something shifts, and he's back again, looking unruffled and almost cheerful an easy smile lighting his eyes.

Rukia has trailed off in the middle of her message, and Ichigo points to her phone as he grabs his bag, then jerks his thumb in the direction of the gate. She opens her mouth to tell him she'll only be a minute, but he's already off, and so she finishes the message hastily.

"So I'll call when I get there tomorrow," she says into the phone, her voice wavering slightly. "And Mom? I'm sorry about before, okay? I didn't mean it."

Afterward, when she heads back to the gate, she scans the area for Ichigo's blue shirt, but he's nowhere in sight. Rather than wait for him amid the crowd of restless travelers, she circles back to use the bathroom, then pokes around the gift shops and bookstores and newspaper stands, wandering the terminal until it's finally time to board.

As she falls into line, Rukia realizes she's almost too tired to even be anxious at this point. It

feels like she's been here for days now, and there's so much more ahead of her to worry about, too: the closeness of the cabin, the panicky feeling that comes with no escape route. There's the wedding and the reception, meeting Dad and his fiancee for the first time in more than a year. But for now, she just wants to put on her headphones, close her eyes, and sleep.

When it's her turn to hand over her ticket, the flight attendant smiles from beneath his mustache. "Scared of flying?"

Rukia forces herself to unclench her hand, where she's been gripping the handle of her

suitcase with white knuckles. She smiles ruefully. "Scared of landing," she says, then step onto the plane anyway.

-x-

By the time Ichigo appears at the top of the aisle, Rukia is already sitting by the window with her seat belt fastened and her bag stowed safely in the overhead bin. She's spent the past seven minutes pretending she wasn't interested in his arrival, counting planes out the window and examining the pattern on the back of the seat in front of her. But really, she's just been waiting for him, and when he finally arrives at their row she finds herself blushing

for no good reason other than that he's quite suddenly looming over her with that tilted grin of his. There's a kind of unfamiliar electricity that goes through her at the nearness of him, and she can't help wondering if he feels it, too.

"Lost you in there," he says, and she manages a nod, happy to be found again.

He hefts his hanging bag up above before scooting into the middle seat beside her,awkwardly

arranging his too-long legs in front of him and situating the rest of himself between the armrest. She glances at him, her heart thudding at his sudden proximity, at the casual way he's positioned himself so close to her.

"I'll just stay for a minute," he says, leaning back. "Till somebody else comes."

She realizes that a part of her is already composing the story for the benefit of her friends: the one about how she met a handsome guy with on a plane and they spent the whole time

talking. But the other part of her, the more practical part, is worried about arriving in Tokyo tomorrow morning for her father's wedding without having slept. Because how could she possibly go to sleep with him beside her like this? His elbow is brushing against hers and their kneecaps are nearly touching. there's a dizzying smell to him, too, a wonderfully boyish mixture of deodorant and shampoo.

He pulls a few things from his pocket, thumbing through a pile of change until he eventually finds a lint-covered piece of wrapped candy, which he offers her first, then pops into his mouth.

"How old is that thing?" she asks, her nosewrinkled.

"Ancient. I'm pretty sure I dug it out of a sweet bowl the last time I was home."

"Let me guess," she says. "It was part of a study on the effects of sugar over time."

He grins. "Something like that."

"What are you really studying?"

"It's top secret," he tells her, his face utterly serious. "And you seem nice, so I don't want to have to kill you."

"Gee, thanks," she says. "Can you at least tell me your major? Or is that classified, too?"

"Probably psychology," he says. "Though I'm still sorting it out."

"Ah," Rukia says. "So that explains all the mind games."

Ichigo laughs. "You say mind games, I say research.."

"I guess I better watch what I say, then, if I'm being analyzed."

"That's true," he says. "I'm keeping an eye on you."

"And?"

He gives her a sideways smile. "Too soon to tell."

Behind him, an elderly woman pauses at their row, squinting down at her ticket. She's wearing a flowered dress and has white hair so delicate you can see right through to her scalp. Her hand trembles a bit as she points at the number posted above them.

"I think you're in my seat," she says, worrying the edges of her ticket with her thumb, and beside Rukia, Ichigo stands up so fast he hits his head on the air-conditioning panel.

"Sorry," he's saying as he attempts to maneuver out of her way, his cramped overtures doing little to fix things in such a tight space. "I was just there for a moment."

The woman looks at him carefully, then her gaze slides over to Rukia, and they can almost see the idea of it dawning on her, the corners of her watery eyes creasing.

"Oh," she says, bringing her hands together with a soft clap. "I didn't realize you were together." She drops her purse on the end seat. "You two stay put. I'll be just fine here."

Ichigo looks like he's trying not to laugh, but Rukia's busy worrying about the fact that he just lost his spot, because who wants to spend seven hours stuck in the middle seat? But as the woman lowers herself gingerly into the rough fabric of her seat, he

smiles back at Rukia reassuringly, and she can't help feeling a bit relieved. Because the truth is that now that he's here, she can't imagine it any otherway. Now that he's here, she worries that crossing an entire ocean with someone between them might be something like torture.

"So," the woman asks, digging through her purse and emerging with a pair of foam earplugs, "how did you two meet?"

They exchange a quick glance.

"Believe it or not," Ichigo says, "it was in an airport."

"How wonderful!" she exclaims, looking positively delighted. "And how did it happen?"

"Well," he begins, sitting up a bit taller, "I was being quite gallant, actually, and offered to help with her suitcase. And then we started talking, and one thing led to another…."

Rukia grins. "And he's been carrying my suitcase ever since."

"It's what any true gentleman would do," Ichigo says with exaggerated modesty.

"Especially the really gallant ones."

The old woman seems pleased by this, her face folding into a map of tiny wrinkles. "And here you both are."

He smiles. "Here we are."

Rukia's surprised by the force of the wish that wells up inside of her just then: She wishes that it were true, all of it. That it were more than just a story.

That it were their story.

But then he turns to face her again and the spell is broken. His eyes are practically shining with amusement as he checks to be sure she's still sharing in the joke. Hadley manages a small smile before he swivels back to the woman, who has

launched into a story about how she met her husband.

Things like this don't just happen, Rukia thinks.

Not really. Not to her.

"Enjoy the flight," she says, stuffing a yellow earplug into one ear, and then repeating the gesture on the other side.

"You, too," Rukia says, but the woman's head has already fallen to one side, and just like that, she begins to snore.

Beneath their feet, the plane vibrates as the engines rumble to life. One of the flight attendants reminds them over the speaker that there will be no smoking, and that everyone should stay seated until the captain has turned off the FASTEN SEAT BELT sign.

Rukia grabs the laminated safety instructions from the seat pocket in front of her. Beside her, Ichigo stifles a laugh, and she glances up again.

"What?"

"I've just never seen anyone actually read one of those things before."

"Well," she says, "then you're very lucky to be sitting next to me."

"Just in general?"

She grins. "Well, particularly in case of an emergency."

"Right," he says. "I feel incredibly safe. When I'm knocked unconscious by my tray table during some sort of emergency landing, I can't wait to see all four foot-nothing of you carry me out of here."

Rukia's face falls. "Don't even joke about it."

"Sorry," he says, inching closer. He places a hand on her knee, an act so unconscious that he

doesn't seem to realize what he's done until Rukia glances down in surprise at his palm, warm against her bare leg. He draws back abruptly, looking a bit stunned himself, then shakes his head. "The flight'll be fine. I didn't mean it."

"It's okay," she says quietly. "I'm not usually quite so superstitious."

Out the window, a few men in neon yellow vest are circling the enormous plane, and Hadley leans over to watch. The old woman on the aisle coughs in her sleep, and they both turn back around, but she's resting peacefully again, her eyelids fluttering.

"They're marriage for Fifty-two years," Ichigo says, letting out a low whistle. "That's impressive."

"I'm not sure I even believe in marriage," Rukia says, and he looks surprised.

"Aren't you on your way to a wedding?"

"Yeah," she says with a nod. "But that's what I mean."

He looks at her blankly.

"It shouldn't be this big fuss, where you drag everyone halfway across the world to witness your love. If you want to share your life together, fine. But it's between two people, and that should be enough. Why the big show? Why rub it in everyone's faces?"

Ichigo runs a hand along his jaw, obviously not quite sure what to think. "It sounds like it's weddings you don't believe in," he says finally. "Not marriage."

"I'm not such a big fan of either at the moment."

"I don't know," he says. "I think they're kind ofnice."

"They're not," she insists. "They're all for show. You shouldn't need to prove any anything if you really mean it. It should be a whole lot simpler than that. It should mean something."

"I think it does," Ichigo says quietly. "It's a promise."

"I guess so," she says, unable to keep the sigh out of her voice. "But not everyone keeps that

promise." She looks over toward the woman, still fast asleep. "Not everyone makes it fifty-two years, and if you do, it doesn't matter that you once stood in front of all those people and said that you would. The important part is that you had someone to stick by you all that time. Even when everything sucked."

He laughs. "Marriage: for when everything sucks."

"Seriously," Rukia insists. "How else do youknow that it means something? Unless someone's

there to hold your hand during the bad times?"

"So that's it?" Ichigo says. "No wedding, no

marriage, just someone there to hold your hand when things are rough?"

"That's it," she says with a nod.

He shakes his head in wonder. "Whose wedding is this? An ex-boyfriend of yours?"

Rukia can't help the laughter that escapes her.

"What?"

"My ex-boyfriend spends most of his time playing video games, and the rest delivering pizzas. It's just funny to imagine him as a groom."

"I thought you might be a bit young to be a woman scorned."

"I'm seventeen," she says indignantly, and he holds up his hands in surrender.

The plane begins to push back from the gate, and Ichigo leans closer to peer out the window.

There are lights stretched out as far as they can see, like reflections of the stars, making great

constellations of the runways, where dozens of planes sit waiting their turn. Rukia's hands are braided together in her lap, and she takes a deep breath.

"So," Ichigo says, sitting back again. "I guess we jumped right into the deep end, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just that a discussion about the definition of true love is usually something you talk about after three months, not three hours."

"According to her," Rukia says, jutting her chin to Oliver's right, "three hours is more like three years."

"Yes, well, that's if you're in love."

"Right. So, not us."

"No," Ichigo agrees with a grin. "Not hour's an hour. And we're doing this all wrong."

"How do you figure?"

"I know your feelings on matrimony, but we haven't even covered the really important stuff yet, like your favorite color or your favorite food."

"Blue and Mexican."

He nods appraisingly. "That's respectable. For me, green and curry."

"Curry?" She makes a face. "Really?"

"Hey," he says. "No judging. What else?"

The lights in the cabin are dimmed for takeoff as the engine revs up below them, and Rukia closes

her eyes, just for a moment. "What else what?"

"Favorite animal?"

"Rabbits," she says, opening her eyes again.

Ichigo is looking at her with amusement.

"And you'rs?"

"The American eagle."

She laughs. "I don't believe you."

"Me?" he asks, bringing a hand to his heart. "Is it wrong to love an animal that also happens to be a symbol of freedom?"

"Now you're just making fun of me."

"Maybe a little," he says with a grin. "But is it working?"

"What, me getting closer to muzzling you?"

"No," he says quietly. "Me distracting you."

"From what?"

"Your claustrophobia."

She smiles at him gratefully. "A little," she says.

"Though it's not as bad until we get up in the air."

"How come?" he asks. "Plenty of wide open spaces up there."

"But no escape route."

"Ah," he says. "So you're looking for an escape route."

Rukia nods. "Always."

"Figures," he says, sighing dramatically. "I get that from girls a lot."

She lets out a short laugh, then closes her eyes again when the plane begins to pick up speed, barreling down the runway with a rush of noise. They're tipped back in their seats as momentum gives way to gravity, the plane tilting backward until —with a final bounce of the wheels—they're set aloft like a giant metal bird.

She wraps a hand around the armrest as they climb higher into the night sky, the lights below fading into pixelated grids. Her ears begin to pop as the pressure builds, and she presses her forehead against the window, dreading the moment when they'll push through the low-hanging bank of clouds and the ground will disappear beneath them, when they'll be surrounded by nothing but the vast and endless sky.

Out the window, the outlines of parking lots and housing developments are growing distant as housing developments are growing distant as everything starts to blend together. Rukia watches the world shift and blur into new shapes, the streetlamps with their yellow-orange glow, the long ribbons of highway. She sits up straighter, her forehead cool as she strains to keep sight of it all. What she fears isn't flying so much as being set adrift. But for now, they're still low enough to see the lit windows of the buildings below.

For now, Ichigo is beside her, keeping the clouds at bay.

A/N:

BleachAddict12: Thanks, you're very nice thank you..well I'm trying to finish this as fast as I can so I can update my other story.. I'm just writing this to inspire myself.. and its working, really working..I was smiling the whole time I was writing it..:D