Disclaimer and notes: Ahem. I don't own Bleach, it's out of my hands, but this story is mine, and I'm just a fan.

XD Okay, lame rhyme, I'm sorry. But the usual disclaimer bores me…

Who's watched Casablanca?

No, really. Anyone…?

To the Wind
Chapter 6
By AdventWing

Rukia has decided that she likes her bathing suit. Very, very, very much. She mulls over its greatness even thought she's not actually using it now. It's silly; she knows; but all she can do is praise the damn suit. She's out of it now, and wearing a bathrobe, but she can't seem to stop smiling, although the blush across her face has subsided.

Bless the person who invented the bathing suit, she thinks happily, a vision of Ichigo's playful grin slipping into her mind.

Ugh. She can't help the smile. She sighs lightly at her reflection, prodding and poking her cheek experimentally. She even slaps herself on the cheek lightly.

Quickly giving in to the idea that she's going to have to stay this way, she finds a dress she likes, maroon, and heads off to test her culinary skills in the kitchen.

-----

"What?" Ichigo asks irritably.

I was inquiring whether Kuchiki-san's lessons were of any help.

Ichigo shrugged dismissively, feeling the warmth spread across his face. "Maybe. I can float now."

That is indeed a fine start! Now, if you'll excuse me, I will assist the Madame in the kitchen.

Ichigo frowned. He actually voluntarily got in a pool with Rukia and enjoyed himself. I can't believe I did that. What the heck is he thinking? Today the pool, tomorrow…

Still, he thought to himself, glancing around the room, it was fun. And there's so much to do in this house. He blinked at the long line of American DVDS. They might even watch a movie.

What was so bad about being here, he thought idly sprawled on the sofa. It was like a resort! All they technically had to do was live here, right? His scowl deepened at the thought of their earlier arguments—

Back.

Push it back, he commanded.

It wasn't that bad really. He just had to relax and forget about what he can't control.

Easy. Nothing could happen now.

Sir, I hate to be the bearer of bad news every time an issue arises, but you see there is no one else in the house and…

Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose, tying to stem the headache.

"Don't tell me. I can guess. Kitchen?"

Madame is refusing my help. Now, she was very polite about it, but I hope that—

"God. Shut up!"

-----

Ichigo stared, dumbstruck at the scene beyond the doorway to the Kitchen.

There was something wrong. Why? Simply because, NOTHING WAS WRONG.

And that was wrong.

Rukia, sensing she had company, quit her humming abruptly and glanced backwards. Quickly spinning around, Ichigo place his back against the wall ninja-style. Like that manga. His heart hammering, and not knowing why he instinctively hid, he hissed at AI-san in harsh whispers.

"There's nothing wrong!"

But my scena—Ichigo brought his fingers to his lips in a shushing motion.

But my scenario simulator came up with a simple equation. (Kuchiki-san – Kurosaki-san) Kitchen Fire.

"But there isn't one yet, right?"

Well no, but—

"SSSSSSSSHHHH!"

But wouldn't you at lest what to know what she's making, and how flammable the procedure would be?

Ichigo thought about that for a moment.

…When you put it that way…

-----

Ichigo faked apathy as he casually walked in to the kitchen. "Hey Rukia, what—THE FUCK?" He asked as a glass sailed over his head. Rukia was suddenly in front of him, glaring him down. He took a long step back, properly cowed. How the hell did she move so fast?

"You can't come in." She held up her index finger. "You can't watch." Another finger. "You can say anything." She added quickly seeing his mouth open. "You will wait, patiently, until I finish."

"I kinda think you're being a little—"

Rukia cracked her knuckles, grinning sardonically. "A little…what? Dear…?"

Ichigo has left the area.

-----

She muses thoughtfully, putting the final touches on the dish. Sure, she had to improvise, but it looks nice. Why did I want to do this alone, anyway? It might have been more fun if Ichigo was here…

He could have…

…Tasted the sauce? Helped her cut the vegetables? He could have helped her put on this infernal apron…

She shakes her head to clear such a harmonious scene.

It was a matter of pride! Pride! She couldn't have him think that she couldn't cook!

With an idea from one of the magazines she had read on a nearby table, she called AI EX and asked him to set the table, momentarily watching mechanical arms come out from nowhere, and, in a flurry, set to work.

Well, she didn't know how accurate those glossy books were, but give her a break.

There wasn't any manga in the house.

-----

"Okay," Ichigo muttered. "I didn't expect this."

Rukia grinned smugly. "See? I'm not a hopeless case. I had to cook for myself all the time!"

It was…really good…he thought to himself, savouring the main dish. "Fish in Tempura sauce…" Simple. Traditional. He tasted a little pepper. And a little spicy… He chased away any thoughts he might have about the chef.

What's happening to me…? He asks somewhere between his glass of water and the next bite. I was completely NOT like this before. It's the personal space thing. Or some kind of whacked out psychological effect of being alone with her…I mean like really alone.

He paused at his surroundings. It was just too…campy. Husband and wife, eating a meal in peace…

Hmm…he thought, spacing out at Rukia's explanation of how she learned how to cook and why she was superior in every way. Mrs. Kurosaki….

He caught himself before the daydream began, and his eyes widened in horror. He was thinking of spending the rest of his life—HOLY SHIT! THIS VIBE IS POISON! He thought, his eyes widening in panic. (Naru Style XD)

Rukia stared. "What?"

Ichigo hesitated.

"A toast?" He suggested lamely, sitting down again.

Rukia sat wondering what a toast was. Yet the way he held the glass of coke struck a memory…Oh! "Ah, sure."

"To a—" Long life? She's dead. Happy marriage? They're not married.

…Kids?

He blanched.

"—Good grade!" Rukia added helpfully. She smiled at the look on his face. "What, Ichigo? Forgot the whole reason we're staying here?"

"Hey, we're going to do more than get a good grade!" He declared. "We're gonna ace this subject, and then I'm going to grind my report card into screwball-sensei's face!" He said, remembering the hell he put them through the other night.

Rukia grinned, her grin equally evil. "Agreed. Cheers."

-----

The emphasis on family and relationships is overlooked in today's curriculum; it is usually a subject all on its own, which no real connection to Home Economics. What many do not know is that it is a vital—WACHOO!

Katobeto rubbed his nose. "Darn my cold."

He paused, his fingers poised on the keyboard. I wonder how my lab rats are doing….

-----

Okay, sure enough, Rukia had read about television. She had seen other people watch television. But no, she has not actually watched it herself. So, naturally, she's excited.

"So what will we watch?" Rukia asks, as nonchalantly as possible.

Ichigo grunts. "Don't know yet." He's sitting down on the floor next to an impressive library. Ichigo was busy browsing through the rack, intent on finding a movie that they will both enjoy. It's quite simple really, if he has to sit through two hours of say…

The Sound of Music! He thought, pulling out the disc.

Isshin's favourite movie. His eyebrow twitches, recalling the night they watched it again and again until morning, after he was tied to a chair.

…He was weak-willed back then.

He shuddered when he remembered Isshin's rendition of 'Sixteen going on seventeen'…

Ugh.

Rukia leans over his shoulder to glance at the title. "Hmm. Foreigner. She's wearing those clothes the woman on the milk container was wearing…."

Ichigo laughed humourlessly, tossing the old movie over his shoulder. "No, crap movie and no, not subbed."

Rukia caught it, reading the kanji sticker on the back, with acclamations to the movies success. "Yes it is. Subbed I mean."

Ichigo frowned. "No. It isn't."

Rukia frowned. "C'mon, it looks nice."

Ichigo stared long and hard at Rukia and the movie. "Oh course you'd think it looks nice."

Rukia shrugged. "Then?"

Ichigo made no answer, and proceeded to make a mess out of the DVD collection.

Rukia frowned. What was so hard about picking a movie? This one, for instance, looks good. Casablanca….

Rukia reads the synopsis with mild curiosity. Her eyes widen.

She taps Ichigo on the head. "What?" He growls.

-----

"This is…?"

"Popcorn. Good stuff." He puts a few in his mouth. Rukia nodded, and reached over to grab some. Ichigo frowned, his chest tightening as he smells the shampoo in her hair—

"Hey! Here, HERE." He puts the bowl between the two of them, hoping to create some physical distance. Rukia decides that as usual, whatever Ichigo eats is good, and puts the bowl in her lap and takes its place.

Ichigo stifles a groan of frustration, but, getting into the movie, ignores the part where Rukia lays her head on his shoulder.

-----

Rukia didn't cry.

Shinigami didn't have the privilege to cry

She couldn't cry. Nope. She can't.

So, her eyes bright with unshed tears, she repeatedly slams Ichigo into the couch by grabbing a fistful of his shirt and, sobbing, she asked him, why, why did he let her watch Casablanca?

Now, Yuzu cried. He suspected Karin did too. Isshin (who is an old-movie buff) bawled like a baby.

So, starting to see stars, he wonders if this is her way of crying.

Hell, maybe he should comfort her.

It's worth a shot.

"RU-KIA! ST—OP! IT'S OK-KAY, DAMNIT!"

"NO! IT'S NOT! AFTER ALL THAT, HE JUST LET HER FREAKING GO? THAT'S NOT HOW IT SHOULD END! THAT'S NOT HOW IT SHOULD EEEEEENNNNNNNNNNDDDD!"

"OH GOD! THEY'LL ALWAYS HAVE PARIS!" He cried out desperately.

"WAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

-----

"…Calmed down yet?"

"…Yeah." She sniffed, her face scarlet. Doesn't this just beat all? She wonders. I've made a real mess of things. Still…she thought, enjoying the security from his embrace, …I have to make a mess of things more often. It feels really nice to be held like this….

"…Crazy bitch." He mutters. "Get emotional much?"

Rukia buries her head into his shoulder. "Bite me."

"It was just a movie for crying out loud."

"So? How can you be unaffected by such a tale of—"

Something clicked, and Ichigo slapped his forehead. "Rukia. It was acted out. Like a play."

A pause.

"Oh…"

-----

Ichigo frowned.

That feeling you get when you've done something before…

Pounding up the stairs to their room, he wondered if he was feeling deja vu…

In his arms, Rukia stirred.

Yup. He was.

She's not drunk. He said silently. She's not. So, no problems, and even if she does mutter some guys name, I won't give a damn.

So, he tucks her in, and, deciding to sleep downstairs again, is about to head out, when he's grabbed by the shirt. Rukia glared narrowly at him. "I thought we had an agreement."

Ichigo frowned. "You were awake."

Rukia sat up and sauntered to the walk-in closet. "Of course I was. You assumed I was asleep. Besides, who the hell could sleep with the way you storm up the stairs?"

"I bet you just wanted a free ride," he said crossly, flopping onto the bed morosely.

He was tired. The argument today, the dinner last night, swimming…he'd be dead by the week was over. And he was seriously losing self-control here….

What a mess. He thought heatedly. What keeps us together is what keeps me from…

Maybe, in another time, in another life, without all the shit weighing him down, he would have considered dating her…and maybe…

Maybe loving her…

"Good night Ichigo," called a voice form his side.

He sat up quickly, a somewhat guilty expression on his face. "GOD! Don't DO that!"

Rukia glanced up from her side suspiciously. "I've been here a while."

Ichigo's eyes adjusted themselves to the darkness. She had turned off the lights too? Man, he was out of it… "…What the hell are you wearing?"

Rukia tugged at the nightgown self-consciously. "I dislike the pyjamas that I borrowed from your sisters. I dislike tight clothing in general, actually." She shrugged. "This is much more comfortable." She glared at his stare. "What? You want to wear it? Good night."

Ichigo seemed to remember something, and then he grunted a sentence out.

Rukia raised an eyebrow at this. "What did you—"

He then flipped to face the opposite direction. "I said, thanks for the freaking swimming lesson." He said roughly. "…It was fun." He added begrudgingly

Rukia smiled happily. She was relieved that he had enjoyed himself too. "Maybe we could go again…?"

"Maybe."

She nodded. Lightning flashed and thunder suddenly erupted in the background. She jerked, surprised.

"Alex said there'd be rain." He said; with a hint of…she frowned. Irritation?

All our bad memories were connected with rain…she considered, noting the irony. His mother…and…Kaien…

She wanted to ask…

"I know why I hate rain." Ichigo began, surprising her by turning over to look into her startled eyes. His own were soft, and calming. She slowly relaxed into his gaze. "…Why do you?" He asked. The soft pelts of the rain, like a heartbeat, steady, growing quicker…

The rain came down that night…it kept coming….

Like tears I shouldn't be able to shed…

-----

Subject 01 and 02 suffer from deeply psychological effects, which prevent them from achieving a happy union because they have not discussed it.

-

Subject One has broached the topic.

-

Allow them to continue?

-

Acknowledged

-

Awaiting further instructions.

Tsuzuku

Aha…I guess I used the theme of Ichigo and Rukia watching television…sorry. But c'mon…how can anyone resist such a cute scene?

Bet you all thought Rukia would blow up the kitchen, huh? I've always liked the scene where the sink lands somewhere it shouldn't be…

Like? Well, Ishida's room for one.

O.o "Why is there a sink in bed with me?"

Clichéd I know, but I find it funny…

How the sink flew so far? Um…

Maybe it flew into a space-time warp (That's my excuse for everything. Science-fiction is the new superstition)

Ah, well, next chapter will be focused on Rukia's past. So beware…