Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo.
Nocturne of Death
written by Kurosu
Chapter Two: The Occupation
A new morning began on a bright Tuesday, but nothing had changed, since Grimmjow still arrived to the offices of the Espada Division ten minutes late, already complaining about the early work day, which was just the regular schedule. He stood by his desk and scowled at the pile of messy folders that he left the other day and was too lazy to clean it up before leaving. He should have learned by now that procrastination was his weakness, or one of his many weaknesses, so he would have to suffer through organizing the essential files today.
Unlike his whiny partner, Ulquiorra had been present for an hour in preparation for the day and future team meeting on the case. He immersed himself in the current lab results that arrived only minutes ago, while the rest of the group were sinking into their roles for the day, especially Starrk and Tia who were enjoying their morning beverage of coffee thanks to their receptionist and all around administrative operator.
Their lovely Nel-chan greeted Grimmjow cheerfully and handed a mug of his usual coffee to him. He accepted it without another word because his morning coffee was a peaceful ritual before butting heads with the world and Ulquiorra. Speaking of which, he turned to his coworkers and asked, "Do we have anything yet?"
Tia told him, "We just got in the blood results, but it's not Ichimaru's."
Considering the body was laying in a pool of his own blood, the speck of crimson on the jacket could possibly belong to the killer, so he was wounded in the process. "So it's the killer's?" he voiced his thoughts.
"Maybe." She paused and shifted her position as she placed her mug on the desktop and picked up the documents in front of her. "It doesn't match anyone in the criminal database, but a file on a Jane Doe popped up."
"Jane Doe?" Grimmjow was perplexed at the news, "How is that possible? I mean, she is dead, right?"
"Technically not THE Jane Doe," she corrected, "But someone related to her."
"That's even more confusing. Then she shouldn't even be a Jane Doe if she has a relative. Why wasn't she identified then?"
"One of the many mysteries," was her only reply when Grimmjow had the look of a thousand questions wanting to burst from his mouth.
"That's one of the better leads," Starrk sighed, leaning back in his chair with his arms resting behind his head, as he stared at the ceiling. "There's a lot of suspects from just his recent defense cases. It's going to be a lot of work just to narrow the suspect pool down."
Knowing that Stark and Tia were put in charge of following up on the suspects from the law firm's angle, Grimmjow grinned, "Sucks to be you."
He received a cold glare from Tia, but before another word could be thrown at each other, Ulquiorra appeared in the doorway and motioned for all of them to follow him. "You too, Nel," he ordered.
"Nel-chan!" she whined, but he only stared at her with his usual blank expression. She sighed and pouted and did as she was told, following the four detectives to the conference room - a decent size room to fit seven foot table and some chairs, but it was old and very worn out, since this building was no longer in use by the MPD. When they entered the room, they stared at the white board on the adjacent wall, filled with photos of victims with curt information underneath each one.
"What the hell is this?!" Grimmjow tried to hide his fascination behind his irritated eyes.
"The case we have is linked to previous unsolved ones," he announced.
Tia walked up to the board to examine the photographs and agreed, "The COD is similar in each one."
Soon, they all crowded in front of the white board, eager to learn of the reasoning behind Ulquiorra's thought process as to why he considered these to be all connected together. Their said leader stood off to the side and pointed to the information to a victim, "I've marked the date of birth and death, location of death, and profession."
"They still look random," Grimmjow grunted, unimpressed, "Different age, gender, race..."
"But the same sharp blade," he cut his partner off.
"How do you know?" he narrowed his eyes.
Starrk laughed, "Don't you know, Grimm? You've been his partner for... what? A year now?"
The guy was confused, but Tia explained, "Schiffer is a sword fanatic."
Grimmjow turned to look at his partner, but Ulquiorra was already focused on the images, ignoring the share of information about him - not that he cared who knew, but he preferred the solitary life without connection.
"One strike," he broke their quiet reverie by describing what the victims all had in common too, "One lethal strike."
It took a few seconds for it to sink in, but Grimmjow then spoke questioningly, "You're saying, these are professional hits? One person? Group?" He noticed the far left of the board that appeared to be the first victim.
"It started sixty years ago..."
At the sound of her alarm going off at five in the morning, she grudgingly pushed herself out of bed, only receiving about four hours of sleep. She would normally get a few more, but having an unexpected guest in her home and her weak condition preoccupied her mind most of last night. She laid in bed for a few more minutes, rubbing her face wearily, before getting out from beneath the warm comforter and tread to the door. She opened it and walked out to the common space to find the futon rolled up in the corner.
There were no signs of an extra person that morning, and she felt slightly disappointed. She walked into the kitchen to start the morning pot of coffee and found a note tucked under a Chappy mug. She moved the mug and took the piece of paper to read with a roll of her eyes.
Toushirou had taken her spare key and wouldn't be back till late morning. Not sure when he had left, but most likely some time after one in the morning when she had dozed off because she faintly recalled his footsteps moving about the apartment. She assumed he left to start his job, and that was all she really wanted to know.
She let the coffee brew while she went to get ready for work. After thirty minutes of a shower and getting dressed, she went to get her coffee, and in the midst of enjoying the hot liquid, she stared at the stove, wondering if she should make some breakfast. She normally didn't have breakfast, just a quick cereal bar and coffee on the way to work.
She still had some time to kill, so she decided to make a quick western meal of bacon and eggs and made a mental note to do some groceries shopping. She listened to the morning news as she ate the food, and nothing caught her interest, which was a good thing and one of the reasons she moved to Karakura - a simple and quiet town.
After finishing her meal and cleaning up, she wrapped the extra plate she had made for her temporary roommate and then went to finish getting ready for work. She felt a lot better than the day before, and with Hanatarou's skilled stitching, she should do fairly well at work, though trying to avoid strenuous movements was suggested.
On his way home, or rather Rukia's small apartment, Toushirou picked up the morning newspaper. He could have easily watched the news when he returned, but his preference was always in print. Having something tangible in his hands gave him a sense of existence, being alive and knowing that he was alive. He could remember how those same hands had touched her skin, from last night when he checked her wound. Her warmth against his cool touch, he had felt the slight shiver beneath his fingers, and it had made her nervous.
With the newspaper tucked under his arm, he trekked his way back to Rukia. Soon, his stomach growled, and he wondered if he should get breakfast before going home but instinctively knew that she probably left something for him to eat. It was just like her to do that, for him. He smiled faintly at the reminiscing memories and the current thoughts.
They were independent people, quiet loners and not expressive of their feelings yet they got along very well - most likely being so similar. But initially she had come to him during her more chaotic and reckless days. So imposing and childish, he could hardly ignore her and her antics, but eventually she mellowed out under his strict training regiment. It could be said his cold, indifferent personality rubbed onto her, and he, in turn, learned to care just a bit more.
Sometimes too much when it came to her.
He was jerked out of his thoughts when he noticed something from the corner of his eyes and stopped. He was standing in front of a window display at a children's store and stared at the ever popular mascot that was in trend these days. After a few thoughtful minutes, he decided to enter the store to make a purchase, and fifteen minutes later, he exited with newspaper under his arm and a small, pink shopping bag in hand.
His final destination would be home, Rukia's apartment.
That afternoon, Rukia was at her desk in the teachers' office, working on her lesson plans. She had to make some adjustments in the pace of her students' abilities because certain students didn't pick things up quickly, like a certain Keigo Asano, and she never wanted to leave anyone behind. She grinned when she made a tiny star to one of her notes, which would remind her to emphasize this part of the lesson.
She loved being a teacher. It gave her a sense of belonging, being needed by others, but also, there was a great satisfaction at teaching others and seeing that awed expression of epiphany. She could recall the faces of her students and each little quirk they had, and even though most were intimidating, being taller than her, and teased her, she could tell they still respected her. She had a purpose in this world, the living world beyond death and despair, and she wanted to make sure it would stay that way.
"Hey, Kuchiki!"
The history teacher, Misato Ochi, sat down next to her, not caring that the currently unoccupied chair belonged to another teacher and started gossiping, or rather talking about the upcoming class field trip, the traditional three-day weekend trip for class bonding.
"It's your first time, ne?" she asked and gave her a packet of information on the trip without needing to acknowledge her coworker's affirmative nod, "These are the itinerary and info on the activities. Cabins will be assigned, along with duties they'll carry out. They'll pretty much have to fend for themselves. We just supervise."
Rukia made a weird face and remarked, "This is cliched."
She shrugged, "It's been working for years, but if you have any new ideas, you can submit it to the principal." She started to get up from the seat, adding, "Just do it within the week, in case we have to do some prep."
"Right," she nodded, flipping through the documents, "Thank you, Ochi-sensei."
After Misato left, passing by Ichigo entering the office, he walked towards Rukia, carrying a stack of notebooks. "Kuchiki-sensei, I collected everyone's journals," he informed her. She motioned with her hand for him to place it on the cleared area of her neat desk, unlike other teachers. There were a lot of different things about her that he had noticed, in comparison with other teachers and well, other women in general.
"Thank you for your hard work, Kurosaki."
Rukia took off her glasses to give her eyes some rest from all the reading and rubbed the bridge of her nose, easing the pressure from the eye wear. All the while, Ichigo stood there and watched her, unconsciously in the open presence of a few other teachers in the office, not that they noticed. He knew she was short, but from his lofty height, she was so tiny, barely weighing anything either. He could pick her up and throw her into the air like a child, but she wasn't a child.
She was a woman.
An older woman.
"You look nice without them on," he mumbled quietly.
She whipped her head up towards him at the sound of his deep voice and inwardly chided herself for letting her guard down, but there was a certain tone in his voice and the strangely warm expression in his eyes that slightly disturbed her. She hid her emotions well behind her mask though and straightened in her chair.
"Do you need anything else, Kurosaki?" she asked him, challenging him with her own stare, "Is it about the assignment?"
He realized that he had been staring too long and looked away, trying to force his blush away and rubbing the back of his head nervously, "Ah no, nothing like that. Was just wondering if you need help with anything else. I don't mind."
"Oh, how nice!" one of the teachers finally spoke up.
"You have such a wonderful student, Kuchiki-sensei!"
"How I wish mine were helpful!"
Rukia, ignoring the unnecessary comments that would make his ego grow, smirked and crossed her arms over her chest, looking him directly in the eyes, "You're being presumptuous, Kurosaki. This may be my first year teaching here, but I can handle it." She then turned back to her work, telling him, "You should go home and do your homework like a good boy."
To hide his discontent at being called a boy, he unwillingly agreed to her suggestion, "See you tomorrow, sensei."
He started to leave but glanced back towards her to see only her back, and then he quickly exited, heading back to the classroom to get his things before he left for the day. Unfortunately his friends were still in the room, apparently waiting for him. He tried to just grab his school bag and books and jet out of there, but Keigo, of course, wouldn't let that happen so easily.
Keigo draped a friendly arm over Ichigo's shoulder and teased, "You were in the teachers' office for a while! Did you get a date with Kuchiki-sensei?!"
"No way!" he scoffed, hoping he didn't blush at that, "She's too arrogant! Bossy! Violent! Not my type! Not my type at all!"
"This quick denial," his friend laughed amusingly when Ichigo scowled and pushed his arm off his shoulder, "sounds like there might be some truth of attraction."
"But that's part of the charm of older women," the more quiet Mizuiro smiled knowingly, "especially one who's single and independent. She has control of her life and knows what she wants and goes for it." Keigo wore a similar plastered smile as his while the three of them walked down the hallway. Ichigo was frowning but lost in thought, only to be interrupted again.
"Ichigo," Mizuiro spoke again, "if you're not interested, then I'll ask her."
"So not interested," he affirmed.
Right, Ichigo was completely not interested in Rukia. He had to make that clear to the world and force that out of himself. If he said it out loud and in the witness of others, then that weird feeling in his chest would go away.
"This fuckin' sucks," Grimmjow groaned, dropping his head on top of what looked like the same pile of case files, but actually, he was sifting through the old unsolved cases in relation to Ulquiorra's theory of an assassination conspiracy. He peered across the table to find his partner diligently reading through the files. "Are you seriously reading this stuff?"
"Be glad these are ones in Tokyo. I haven't widen the search to other cities."
That literally shut him up, while Ulquiorra, with a file in hand, walked over to the wall of victims and posted up a photo of the last recent case, before Ichimaru's, of the conspiracy. Starrk and Tia were quietly doing their own work in their own areas of the conference room, but their leader's movements caught their attention.
Grimmjow frowned and read the name, "Kaien Shiba?"
Ulquiorra was still in front of the board, examining the photos of the Shiba's wounds and comparing them to Ichimaru's that he had in his hands. When he placed them side by side, they looked almost identical. After that assumption, he grabbed information from the two files and cleared his side into nice stacks. He turned to his coworkers, "I'm going to see the ME. Finish up and go home."
In a huff of anger, Grimmjow stood up, knocking his chair to the floor, and chased after him, "Schiffer, you ass, stop fuckin' around!" The quiet man, still walking out of the building to his car, glanced to his side and glared at the vulgarity that left his partner's mouth, but Grimmjow was not done, "Look, we both hate this partner shit, but we are just that. Partners.
Now get your head outta your ass, and work with it. 'Cause if I have to deal with this shit, you do too!"
"I don't care," was all he said, climbing into his car, while a still annoyed Grimmjow, disappointed he couldn't get more of a reaction than a measly glared, hopped into the passenger seat. It was better than nothing.
After another long day at work, Rukia was on her way home but then remembered about getting groceries since there wasn't anything else appetizing at home to make for dinner. On other days, she wouldn't have cared if she had a pint of ice cream for dinner or just stop by the nearby convenience store for a pre-made meal, but with Toushirou, she at least should prove to him that she could live without someone else - without him.
After mentally going through a few of her favorite recipes, she finally settled on one she realized she had not eaten in a long time. She cruised through the grocery aisles looking for the needed ingredients and bumped into a familiar face. She looked at him with curious, raised eyebrows, "Kurosaki, drew the last straw to make dinner?"
Ichigo rolled his eyes, "No, my sister forgot something so I had to get it for her."
"Oh, you're not only a good student," she teased, "but a good older brother too!"
He blushed at her compliment, "Ah um, family is important!"
At his words, her eyes softened, and she smiled. It was a sad yet beautiful smile, almost made her appear ethereal, as one could be standing in the aisle of a grocery store. He tried to force those thoughts away with his uncharacteristic blush and peeked into her basket of food, "Er, are you cooking, sensei? Or someone cooking for you? 'Cause I just can't see you cooking without burning something."
Rukia lost her gentle self and stood on her toes to reach her hand up to smack his head, "Respect your elders!"
"I'll be seventeen soon!" Ichigo rubbed his wounded head, "And besides, you can't be that much older."
She eyed him suspiciously, "For your information, I'm six years older."
With the new information, he stared at her, "So when I'm eighteen, you'll only be twenty-four."
Rolling her eyes, she snorted, "Very good, Kurosaki, you can do math."
"You don't even look your age anyway. For being short."
He demonstrated by petting her head, which only riled her up even more, and instead of a smack to the head, she punched him in the stomach. Surprised, Ichigo got the wind knocked out of him by his petite teacher who had the amazing strength of a raging bull at the moment.
"Don't judge people by appearances," Rukia scolded him before turning away, "Now hurry home to your family."
Still hunched over the floor, he watched her leave and told himself, "There's no way that type of woman is attractive."
Currently in the elevator of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, Grimmjow wasn't sure which was worse: being with Ulquiorra or listening to the hideous melody playing overhead. He definitely tried to tune both presence out of his head, but the latter was more difficult when he had to follow the shorter man out of the enclosed box. They reached the medical examiner's laboratory and were quickly greeted by two plump assistants, Lumina and Verona Aporro, who took them inside to see Szayel.
"Hm, this is a surprise," the said doctor mused, "What brings the Espada Division down here?"
Ulquiorra told him, "We want to see Ichimaru's body."
"Wasn't my report not sufficient?" he feigned hurt and then smiled mischievously, "Or are you, heheh, sadistic necrophiliacs?"
"What the fuck?!" Grimmjow growled, but Ulquiorra stopped him from his retaliation.
"Show us the body. Now."
"You guys are boring!" Szayel sighed tiresomely and gestured for the twin assistants to bring the body to them. The two left promptly into the adjacent room and returned to the trio, rolling the gurney with Gin's corpse on top, covered by a white sheet.
"Have you identify the weapon?"
He shook his head at Ulquiorria's inquiry, "No, it's a peculiar blade. Not your every day kitchen knife."
"Great, a killer who carries a machete around."
Everyone stared at Grimmjow's apparent joke, but Szayel corrected him seriously, "No, nothing primitive." He pulled the cover aside, unveiling the corpse's head and upper torso, and pointed towards the cut, "It's rather elegant if I may so. The blade has some length to it to create such beautiful depth and damage.
"The killer must have some skills too to handle such a weapon!" he seemed to praise.
Grimmjow made a disgusted face while Ulquiorra frowned, expressing some emotion for once, and said quietly, "This is similar to that case."
"The Shiba one?" his partner asked.
"Six months ago, Kaien Shiba was the victim."
"Hm, Shiba..." Szayel repeated the name, vaguely recalling it, and walked over to the computer where Verona was seated. "I think he belongs to the Shiba clan. Bring up the file on Kaien Shiba."
"The Shiba yakuza clan," Ulquiorra corrected, "but he was a low rank officer of the MPD. The case was unsolved. It was speculated his death was a yakuza matter. The Shibas had too many enemies, and no one was arrested."
The doctor nodded, adding, "The body was returned to the family and cremated, already put to rest. There are still the documents and additional photos of the case if you still want it."
"Of course."
"Lumina, retrieve them from the archives."
"One more thing," Ulquiorra added, handing a sheet of paper to Lumina, "I need your information on this Jane Doe." The assistant took a look at it and then nodded, leaving to acquire the needed files.
"This better not be another dead end."
After Grimmjow's lame, unintended pun, they stared at him again, and he groaned, slapping his forehead.
The door slammed angrily into place, and a grumbling Rukia slipped off her shoes and walked into the kitchen with the groceries. She was sorting out her ingredients when her bedroom door opened, and Toushirou stepped out, rubbing a hand to his face. She had forgotten he was currently her guest, and at the realization of where he had just exited from, she stopped and furrowed her brows at him.
"Did you sleep in my bed?" she asked calmly.
She watched him carefully as he leaned forward on the counter, smiling, "It feels better than the futon."
"Jerk," she grumbled and turned away to grab a pot from the cabinet.
"And it has your scent."
"Whatever," she sighed and went to the refrigerator for other ingredients.
"What are you making?"
"Curry rice. Been craving it."
He frowned immediately, "Are you pregnant?" Rukia almost choked on the air she was breathing, when he continued, "Who's the father?"
"NO! Nothing of the sort!" came her outburst, "Just... go wash up for dinner."
He spared her a suspicious glance before doing what he was told, which gave Rukia a peaceful thirty minutes to cook and calm herself down. For someone so intelligent, he could just be plain dumb sometimes, coming to some ridiculous assumption about her. For all her life, she was not some loose girl to be taken advantage of. She couldn't even remember the last time she had a date with a guy.
Technically the last guy she was seeing was Toushirou, but that was a complicated matter all together and ought to be left in the past, though difficult to do when the guy was under the same roof as her. Now they were comrades, just that and nothing more.
She was plating the rice and curry when he returned, looking refreshed and focused. They both sat down in the living room for dinner, and she waited for him to take his first bite of her cooking. She smiled to herself and started eating too. He didn't say a word about her food but continued eating, but she was satisfied with it. It was just the way he was: if he liked something, he liked it, and his actions proved it.
"How's the job going?" she asked, needing to kill the awkward silence.
The utensil paused in the air and then was brought down to rest on the edge of the plate. He looked at her with icy, calm composure to show her what kind of man he was when on the job, "I'm ready tonight."
"You don't have Hyourinmaru," she pointed out.
"I'll stop by Abarai's place first," he said and resumed eating.
"Why didn't you bring him?"
"It's safer to leave him in Tokyo." He paused again and looked at her with gentle eyes, "You should come back, to Tokyo."
"I like it here. Karakura is simple."
"Should I look for a simple life too?" he mused aloud.
She snorted at his thought, "You'd be bored with it. There's nothing to challenge your intellectual mind here."
"You're here."
It was her turn to stop eating and fall into a contest of stares, then after a minute, she sighed, "Finish your dinner. You shouldn't distract yourself from the job."
He smiled, "Since you've known me, when have I failed?" Meeting her challenging silence, he chuckled to himself and did what he was told. Only she could get away with ordering him around, without getting killed.
That night in Tokyo, after a long day at work and being in the presence of Ulquiorra, Grimmjow spent the time to relax at the bar with his friends who were mainly coworkers: Starrk, Tia and Nel. They were at their usual bar, Ala En Carra Five - normally shortened to The Five - owned by Nnoitora Gilga, who had been asked several times what the name meant but had always refused to explain himself.
"Where's Ulquiorra?" Starrk, seated at the bar counter with the others, asked Grimmjow.
"Probably working overtime," he grinned, "The case is really getting to him."
"Nel-chan is worried," the woman spoke, gripping the glass of juice in her hand with said emotion, "He's going to work himself to death."
Nel sat at the very end of the counter, so an annoyed Nnoitora, working behind the bar, leaned towards her and flicked her dazed self on the forehead. She stared wide eyed at him while he gave her a cold glare and told her, "No use in worrying about that idiot. He does it all the time, and you're just gonna worry YOUR self to death for nothing!"
"How cute," Starrk laughed, "Nnoitora is worried over Nel-chan! Aha."
"Shut up, Starrk!" the bar owner screamed, "Don't make me call in your tab now!"
Tia and Grimmjow drank their beers in silence, not wanting to get their tabs called in along with Starrk when Nnoitora was in that mood of denial. Nel rubbed the pinkish spot on her forehead where Nnoitora had flicked her and voiced her idea, "Ulquiorra needs a girlfriend!"
Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at her, strangely. Then Grimmjow and Nnoitora burst into loud laughter, which caught the attention of the other customers who mumbled quietly to themselves about the weird group.
Starrk pointed out, "Grimmjow needs one too." The guy fell silent and glared at his friend, who tried to explain himself before a brawl opened on the floor, "Look, you always complain about having a decent meal. If you had one, she'd cook and clean for you, right?"
Grimmjow rolled his eyes and took a gulp of his beer, "Women are troublesome." After a few seconds on that thought, he finally admitted, as if questioning his sanity, "Is it worth it for a few meals?"
Nel giggled, "Grimmjow should marry a chef then."
Everyone agreed with laughter, and Nnoitora declared, "The day Grimmjow or Ulquiorra finds a wife is the day I close this bar, give up women and booze, and become a monk!"
Starrk turned to the quiet Tia, "Wanna take that bet?"
She smirked, "I'll be happy to see Nnoitora eat his ridiculously stupid hat."
"HEY!"
More laughter ensued that night, although elsewhere, Ulquiorra found himself sneezing twice and wondered if he was getting sick, which was preposterous since he had never gotten sick in his life. If Nel was there, she would say that someone was talking about him, and he pondered on that for a moment and then shook aside, because he normally didn't believe in those things.
The auto shop had been closed for hours now, and it was the perfect time for a visit, especially when it dealt with things outside the law. Customers were gone, employees left after their shifts, leaving the owner and manager on site. Business was going smoothly for Renji, not that he was complaining about anything in particular, but sometimes when life went too well, one would suspect a bump or two on the road to cause a hitch.
Perhaps he shouldn't jinx himself like that.
It was too late to take it all back when Renji was staring up into Toushirou's indifferent green eyes. It always nerved him to be in the presence of the so called prodigy, and it didn't help when he was alone in the closed shop with the dangerous man. He, himself, was still in the same business, but his skills and ruthlessness could not compare to the visitor's, which was probably why he was less sought after and opened up a simple auto shop in Karakura.
"It's a job," he informed the red-head.
"Right," he grumbled, "Of course, THAT job." He was in the middle of checking the last repaired car when the familiar face caught him by surprise, so he wiped his hands clean on the rag before waving a hand towards his office. The two men stepped into the room, a rather disorganized room that cause Toushirou to stiffen, since he was a neat and orderly person, and kept quiet.
Renji took a set of keys from his pocket and inserted into the locked door in the back of his office. He opened the door and turned on the lights. After they both entered, he closed and locked the door again since this area was always off limits to his employees. He led Toushirou down the stairway to the basement.
"So, you're staying with Rukia?" he asked during the short walk.
"Ah."
"How's she doing? We haven't talked in a while. I've been pretty busy, and I guess she is too."
"She's fine."
Renji sighed, knowing Toushirou wasn't a conversationalist, always keeping words to a minimum which made him appear more like a cold, heartless man - appropriate for the job - but he did not expect the next words from.
"She's very involved with the school and students," he sounded a bit disturbed, "I don't understand why she chose this place."
"You don't know?" Renji raised a brow, since he thought the two had been close the last time he saw them together. At one point, he was even jealous of the intimate relationship they had when he, once, had been best friends with Rukia, but things changed and they fell apart, distanced by tragedies that he didn't know how to deal with at the time.
"This is where she and her sister are from," he explained.
"Hisana?" his voice was quiet as if contemplating, "She's never talked about Hisana before."
"I only know her sister was ill and died, when she was a teenager."
They reached the bottom of the stairs when Renji spoke, "There's still a lot Rukia keeps to herself." He opened another set of doors and entered the large room where he kept his valuable wares of swords and other similar deadly weapons.
"Okay, take your pick."
With the lights still on in the bedroom, Rukia sat at the vanity, staring at the pink bag in front of her. She knew it was from Toushirou, but he didn't mention anything about it to her, which was like him to. She sighed and reached inside the bag to pull out a small, slender box. She undid the ribbon around it and opened the box, revealing a pen and pencil set of her favorite mascot. The image and logo of a white Chappy rabbit was on the top half of each writing instrument.
She smiled and squealed in excitement, turning the pen about to soak in the cute image. After a moment, she sighed and placed it back in the box and closed it.
"Idiot," she said softly.
She carefully placed the gift on her desk and then climbed into bed, but she couldn't sleep right away. She laid there, still thinking about Toushirou and his mission. Mainly just him, because of the little things that he did and the words he said, it made her wonder if she did the right thing. They were initially strangers thrown together on the same path and became teacher and student. She learned many things from him, and they became close, closer than she had ever expected, but she had already decided the way she would live, even before they met.
Rukia was living for her dead sister.
Angrily trudging through the empty parking deck, Mayuri attempted to use his cell phone to call for a taxi, but he wasn't getting any signals, which was a bit odd. Normally he would not have a problem talking on the phone when he was going to his car, but that day was not a very good day for him, from getting pass over for a promotion to a flat tire, and now useless cell phone. He just hoped it wasn't going to rain on the way to the train station.
He had a bit of a walk to the exit of the parking deck, that was the only disadvantage for parking so close to the office buildings, but then again he never imagined to be stranded, after hours, alone. He cursed his luck, or lack of it.
The already dim lights overhead began to flicker ominously like straight from a pathetic horror movie, but nothing in the world bothered, not the dead nor the living, though he ought to fear the living a bit more when karma could be a bitch, returning to him tenfold.
He should have feared.
A sudden chill ran down his spine, and he stopped for a moment and looked over his shoulder. Nothing was there, just the silence and darkness trailing after him, and he scoffed that feeling aside and hurried out of the enclosed space. He denied the fear that forced him to run the rest of the way, clutching tightly onto the black leather suitcase within his arms.
The only thing that mattered to Dr. Mayuri Kurotsuchi was his research. He had abandoned his wife and daughter in pursuit of greater knowledge, and even the after effects of it did not daunt him. His wife eventually fell ill from overworking herself to make ends meet without him to take care of their daughter, and all he could do was keep pursuing his dream, pushing away familial duties until that night.
He no longer chased but was running for his life, and his goal became the very edge of the parking deck. That haunting feeling was stronger than ever, and he couldn't explain it - it just wasn't scientific. There was nothing threatening him, not a single enemy in his solitary life, yet he was fleeing as if his life depended on it.
He would be safe soon, just a few more feet and he would be out of the darkness. With one step forward, his foot froze, causing him to falter forward, and he stumbled to the ground. The suitcase slipped from his grasp and dropped with a loud sound, echoing through the empty space. The case unlatched, and the contents tumbled out, onto the pavement. Horrified, he scrambled over to his precious research and gathered them together.
He caught the last syringe from rolling away and breathed a sigh of relief, only to be met by the glimmer of a blade at the side of his neck. He peeked over his shoulder to see a vague figure standing behind him, to his left.
"What do you want?" he hissed, trying to hide the nervousness and fear which were evident in his shaky limbs holding onto the syringe.
The stranger did not respond, and Mayuri took that chance and jerked to the right in an attempt to escape. He was messy and predictable in his movements and was quickly stopped once more with the same blade in front of his face, threatening to severe his head from his body. Adrenaline pumped through his body, and he averted himself away from the weapon towards the man, with the syringe in hand, prepared to give him a dose of the result that his research accumulated to: a drug that would paralyze him and slowly eat away at his brain and nervous system, causing excruciating pain that he could not stop.
Mayuri swung his armed hand towards his pursuer, hoping to hit any part of his body and let the drug do its job, but the stranger had anticipated the underhanded move, pivoting to the side, and with the flip of his wrist, the sword arced from beneath into the air and sliced through Mayuri's forearm. He screamed in agony and watched with pained eyes at the severed limb dropping to the ground.
Everything happened so fast that Mayuri didn't even registered the same sword had pierce through his chest, and when it was yanked back, he fell backwards onto the pavement, and his wide eyes stared right into the killer's gleaming pair. He couldn't tell what color they were in the oncoming darkness, but they were beautiful.
Beautifully staring into the abyss of death, Toushirou stood over his victim and briefly pondered over the syringe, now in his own gloved hands. He then knelt down as the blood flowed from the wound and emerged from under the body into view. Instead of slashing the front of his neck, he took the syringe and injected it into the side of Mayuri's neck and then threw it onto his immobile body, letting him suffer at the hands of his own creation.
Notes: There were some changes to the original outline, and the last part of Toushirou's scenes was difficult to write. I kept trying to imagine it in my head, but it didn't work out very well. I think this is a challenging story to write, lol. And I still don't know which direction this is going in.
As I've mentioned before, this was supposed to be a GrimmRuki, with an anticipate scene of them in the next chapter - not sure when that'll be written. As for the HitsuRuki, I don't like it as much either. There's history between them there, and it's vague, lol. It needs to be fleshed out first in my head before I can write it. Honestly, I don't like the HitsuRuki in this... I prefer the IchiRuki, the forbidden teacher-student relationship. *grins* It's more exciting I think, and as far as I know, I haven't come across a story where Rukia is the adult/teacher in the relationship... so someone correct me if I'm wrong.
Also, I apologize for not correcting the pairing category immediately - I'd forgotten about it. I'm leaving it to just Rukia for now, because I'm still uncertain about the final pairing. (edit: 03.06.2013)
Ok, I'll be working on The Shoujo Side! Thanks for reading and reviewing! -kuro