Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach. Wish I did though.

Sparring

Hesitant shuffling of feet. He paces in front of the dojo entrance. Walks up, clears his throat and raises his knuckles to knock but doesn't. A moment of hesitation. He steps back, scratches the back of his head. Steps back further. A sigh. Again walking up to the door. Again a hesitant look in the eyes. This time, he clenches his fist, curses under his breath and decides to head back to Ichigo's. Unaware of a pair of large brown eyes that have been watching him with a curious interest from the window, he casts one uncertain glance at the dojo again and sighs, shaking his head.

Two more steps away from the building he'd spent half an hour searching for, he hears the door thrown open with a bang. Turning around, he finds her standing in the middle with a mirthless smirk on her face. In that spotless white uniform, she does look something. It kind of emphasizes her aura of power more than the Karakura High uniform does.

"Looking for someone, Abarai?" she asks in a monotone, trying to sound uninterested while in fact she'd be embarrassed to admit to have caught herself thinking of a certain red-head more than once.

"Well, I…" he starts, then pauses to clear his throat to buy time for a less-than-sheepish response. "I was just passing by…"

"Come on in," she steps back from the door and gestures him to follow her.

The dojo is even more impressive than it looks from the outside. He watches her lithe walk as she goes over to a pair of kids and gently corrects their postures before turning back to him.

"So…" she says, looking around. "Care for a little spar?"

The question doesn't really sound odd. If she'd invited him in a coffee shop, she would have offered coffee but he's rather unfortunate in that sense to have been invited into a dojo. Whatever was he expecting.

"Sure," he shrugs. "A little test of strength."

"Don't take me all that lightly," she smirks. The smirk that always suits her more and appears more natural than a genuine smile would. That smirk is genuine.

"I wouldn't," he says, stretching himself a little and then purposely cracking his knuckles with a huge grin on his face. "Just saying I'm stronger."

"Well, try me," she raises an eyebrow in challenge.

And if taken out of context, it could probably have been the most romantic dialogue he's had in his life except both are just bristling with an intent to smash each other in and the glint in her eyes especially has a little—just a tiny little—murderous look. Whichever way one might see it, they would just sound so wrong.

Right off the bat, she starts with all she has. Punches and kicks come in full force. After a minute of effective blocking and analyzing just how strong she is, the match sets in smooth. She hits, he blocks. But he doesn't hit her back. Still unsure if he really should. She senses the hesitation promptly. Fighting instincts sharpened over years of training. Strategy is simple. She throws all the punches and kicks in where it's hard to block without hurting her. And that's where he loses.

Down on the ground one last time, he coughs and grins simultaneously.

"You win," he says brushing his clothes off. "I'll treat you to takoyaki some time."

"I'd rather you didn't," she says, stretching in an impossible posture before she straightens and they bow to each other for a good match.

"Then I'll owe you one," he says.

"I have something on mind," she says. "But I'm not sure you could do that."

"As if!" he shoots back, a little furious at being underestimated. "Your win. Ask for whatever you like."

"Well, then…" she flashes her white, white teeth.

Takoyaki was easier. Far easier than what she asks for. He tells her she must be crazy and she just smirks in return. This promise is gonna land them both in some serious shit if he has to keep it. But with Arisawa, what's the meaning of going back.

x-x-x

"Right now?" Tatsuki looks at the late night intruder at her window adjusting her t-shirt. If he'd so recklessly barged in a second or two ago, he would've gone down the two floors with a flower vase she would've chugged into his face. He should know better than to show up at a girl's window and open it without so much as a knock.

Fresh out of the shower, hair dripping wet, her scowling face makes him realize his impolite intrusion a little too late. Half a second early and he might've been dead all over again. The alert goes off again and he holds his device display up to her face. Delay is not an option.

"Right now," he asserts.

"Fine," she mutters, hurriedly throwing off her towel and looking over at the mirror just a fraction of second before deciding a t-shirt and shorts isn't that weird a choice for an outside adventure.

Taking two treads at once down the stairs, blurting out incoherent excuses, pulling on the worn out sneakers, she hits the sidewalk in a sprint in seconds. Her long slender legs go thud-thud-thud, strong calf muscles expanding and retracting rhythmically. In human terms, her speed is impressive. He couldn't compete with her. But he's a shinigami. And even though his shunpo isn't half as impressive as his ice-head taichou, it's gotta be at least five times over her current speed.

Without a warning, he hauls her up with one arm hooked around her waist and before she can gain enough sense to protest, his flash-step has already led them to the spot.

And sure enough, there's a hollow roaring, itching to destroy.

"Remember, Arisawa," he warns one last time. "Anybody finds out about this and we're both dead."

"Nobody will," she nods before they launch themselves at the beast.

This one is her prey. Not much powerful a hollow. One swing from his zanpakutou would be enough but he plays around, slashing it here and there, letting her fists do the little frustrating talk. If his observations had been slightly doubtful, now he's sure the second division in Seireitei is meant for her. The hollow isn't just annoyed but positively howling in furor. The punches and kicks are at least half as impressive as Sui Feng taichou's. There is just one moment of terror when he thinks she hasn't noticed the desperate hollow's hand reach out from behind her but she catches it in the nick of a second and instinctively raises her hand, palm out. A pure white beam of light shoots out, destroying the hollow's limb before Renji decides it's time to finish up the job and he dispatches the beast to the other realm with one clean swing of sword.

"How—how'd you do that?" he asks, standing over her crouched form breathing hard.

"That?" she raises her palm and stares at it in amazement, willing the miracle again but it doesn't happen. "What was that? Some superpower beam…"

"That was kidou," he explains. "Art of destruction number four, byakurai. White lightning. But how did you do it?"

"I'm not sure…" she says, standing up and dusting her clothes. "It just happened."

Shinigami do affect the reiryoku of humans around. That's one of the drawbacks of hanging out with them. Something forbidden. But he shrugs. He can enjoy this for just a little while longer. Not to say that he does not have that deep respect for the laws of Soul Society. But she just forces it out of him like he doesn't have a choice. Maybe he can finally begin to understand Rukia's reasons now.

"Well, anyway," he says. "I'll walk you back home."

With what she just did, there's no real threat to her walking back alone even this late in the night. But she doesn't protest. He wouldn't have insisted. On the way back he explains her about reiatsu and how he's probably affecting her. And about kidou and hakudo and all the shinigami gibberish she wouldn't have cared about just an hour ago. She's more amazed at her hadou outburst than she would've been if it were some weird superhero phenomenon. That kind of outrageous stuff is better remaining in comics.

He stays at the gate and watches her go up the two steps and open the door to her house. Something inside of him feels awkward and compelled to say something before she shuts him out.

"Er, Arisawa…" he hesitates, but she turns around instantly as if she'd been waiting for this. "What're you doing tomorrow?"

"Not tomorrow, Abarai," she shakes her head, considering this another invitation to a sparring session. "I don't attend the dojo on Sundays."

"Then maybe," he scratches the back of his head flashing an uncertain grin. "… we could grab that takoyaki tomorrow…"

"If the offer still stands…" she grins, slightly cocking her head to a side. "Sure."

"Well then," he says, waving. "See ya."

"Yeah," she says, closing the door.

He sighs. Walking back to Urahara Shoten, he wonders if he should stop freeloading and actually work for some cash for once. He's got to pay for the takoyaki after all.

A/N: Okay so the Bleach wiki says Tatsuki's eyes are blue. But they appear brown to me so I'll keep it brown.

So writing TatsuRen actually makes me feel so good on the inside I'm wondering why I gave up on it. The story's still so there in my head I'm just hoping I can update faster and finish this.

Thank you for reading.

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