A/N: I've got a bit of a problem that I hope somebody can help me out with. I have no knowledge of Japanese in any form, and the online dictionaries are not good enough to string together names of Zanpakutou or their attacks. So if you are one of those few skilled people who does understand, please PM me and let me know. I only have about 7 names I need translated, and it would annoy me to do a shoddy job.

Otherwise, as always, reviews are great. I love reviews. I read all reviews at least three times. Review, review, review.

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The Heir Apparent
Chapter 5 - Countdown to Promotion

Day fades into night, and night to day

'Ichigo,' said Rukia.

'What?' he said, not looking up from the document he was dealing with. He was desperate for the day to be over, evening was more than two hours away, but it couldn't come soon enough.

'These all need your signature.' She put a hands breadth of papers on his desk. His hands breadth, not hers.

'Great,' he muttered, fighting the urge to groan with frustration.

He was surprised by the sound of excited clapping. Rukia was pointing at the pile of papers. Kiyone and Sentaro had clasped each others hands and were jumping around like mad things.

'Look Ichigo,' she said, 'We've finished half of them, in only two days!'

By 'half', she was referring to one of the three piles. They had only done a sixth of the backlog, despite working; literally; from dawn to dusk. For some arbitrary reason, that really didn't give him the same rush of happiness.

'How wonderful,' he said, deadpanned. They'd be lucky if they'd finished it in two weeks.

Rukia gave the slightest of frowns, then brightened and said, 'You're obviously tired and stiff. How about I give you another massage.'

Ichigo sweated cold.

x

The constant motion of the world

'Thank you for inviting us along, nii-sama,' said Rukia dutifully.

'It is nothing,' he said with a faint smile. He was sitting between them.

'Yeah, thanks Byakuya,' said Ichigo, 'Just, what exactly is this.'

'Ichigo!' she said, horrified.

'It's perfectly alright,' said Byakuya, turning to him. 'I don't know what primitive forms of amusement are available to human's on earth, but here in Soul Society we are blessed with the purest form of entertainment, the theatre.'

'Ah, right,' said Ichigo, plainly not convinced. 'I once went to a rock concert with a stage like that.'

Rukia looked at the stage. There was nothing wrong with it, it was made perfectly. It extended into the audience, who sat around it in a U shape. There were pillars set up, holding props and various pieces of costume that the actors would need to change into when changing character during the performance. By the quality of those costumes, they were in for a real treat.

The play was a skillful adaptation of the popular book The Princess and the Pimp, which had been written; surprisingly; by Yamamoto in his young and randy days. The actors were all superb, especially the man who played the dainty drag queen who ran the brothel next door. That same man also played one of the brothel's frequent patrons, and the prince; the princesses younger brother. She found herself so captivated with the story that she didn't even notice Ichigo until the happily ever after, three hours later, when the pimp opened a house of courtesans for a wealthier brand of customer; with the princess as his star attraction.

'That was great, wasn't it Ichi-' she stopped dead. He was leaning back, his head on her brother's shoulder, fast asleep. Worse still, he was drooling.

'He's been like this for the last two hours,' Byakuya informed her, his annoyance easily apparent.

Rukia saw red. 'ICHIGO!'

x

Sometimes storm clouds gather

'I can't believe you did that,' Rukia cried. 'You slept through the entire performance!'

'Not all of it,' he defended himself, 'just, most of it.'

'IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MAKE IT BETTER?' she screeched like a banshee, looking around for something to hit him with. Fortunately for him the only thing on hand was a large chappy the rabbit toy, and she seemed loathe to abuse it even if it didn't belong to her. In the end she lashed out with her arms wildly, he tucked in his arms to absorb her blows while she began a tirade of verbal and physical abuse.

They were outside the theatre, among all the small stores. Byakuya had gone off to get some tea, or so he'd said. He was the lucky one. Rukia didn't seem to care that their little display was drawing the gazes of others, and making mothers hurry away with their small children.

Ichigo wasn't sure how to react. Okay, he realised he'd messed up, but was it really worth all this noise? And he had been tired from all the work he'd been doing. She might be a hundred and fifty-something, but he was only sixteen (nearly seventeen) and needed his full quota of eight hours of sleep a day. What did it matter if a few of them came leaning on Byakuya's shoulder? Actually, come to think of it, that might be a problem.

'Rukia I'm sorry,' he cut in when she paused to take a breath. 'But don't you think you're overreacting?'

Her fists lowered and her angry expression faded, which he thought must be good; until he saw the one that had replaced it.

'I'm overreacting,' she repeated, dangerously softly.

Ichigo gulped.

x

But rain is a passing thing

Rukia sat in her room on her futon, her body propped up with pillows. Her favourite toy was under her arm, and the horror manga that she'd imported from the material world in her hand. But tonight she couldn't concentrate on it, she was still seething.

How could that idiot have done something like that, how could he be so dumb? Her brother had been making a strong effort to reconcile with him, and he'd blown it totally. She wouldn't be surprised if he was thrown out of the house after that little episode.

The door slid open, she looked just over the magazine to see bright orange hair. She snorted. Had he come to apologise, or to fight with her. She felt like beating him up some more.

'Rukia,' Ichigo began, 'I just came to say that, well…'

'Spit it out,' she said dryly, 'then leave. I'm busy.'

'Well, it has occurred to me that perhaps I behaved badly tonight…'

She put down her manga, dropping the pretence at reading it. 'You really suck at apologising, you know that?'

'Hey!'

'Anyway, I'm not the one you need to speak to.'

He looked down. Rukia was pleased to see that he still looked like he'd been roughed up badly. Good, he deserved it. That and more. He said something, but she couldn't catch it.

'What was that?' she said.

'I said I've already said sorry to Byakuya,' he said, red with embarrassment.

That surprised her, she hadn't expected the carrot-top to humble himself so much. 'And what did he say?'

'Something about it taking a great deal of courage to admit when you're wrong,' said Ichigo, 'I hope that means I'm forgiven.'

'Was that all you meant to say?' she said icily.

He thought for a moment. 'Yeah, I guess so,' he said.

'Then you can go.'

He looked at her, then muttered, 'See you tomorrow,' and left; sliding the door shut behind him.

Only when he was gone did Rukia relax. 'You big fool,' she said fondly, and reached for her manga.

x

The wind blows softly

Ichigo sighed as he put the last picture into the box on top of the few folded robes. 'Well, I guess that's it,' he said.

They had finished clearing out the few remaining item's of Ukitake's, in his old room. They had sent the large supply of prescription medication back to the fourth division, who had hosted him on numerous occasions. Unohana was still so distraught over his loss that he suspected there might have been something going on between them.

'I'll take this to Ukitake-taicho's family,' volunteered Kiyone.

'Sure, but come right back,' said Ichigo. 'We still have a lot to do today.'

She left, and Ichigo stepped back to look at the room. He was in the large and spacious lounge, which was outfitted with comfortable couches and a bookshelf with various volumes of Soul Societies laws and law cases. Rather similar to the bookshelves one would expect to find in a lawyers office. There was a bedroom, not big but larger than his had been in the real world, the futon inside it was the size of a king sized bed. He was pleased about that, his toes stuck out of normal length beds. There was a functional bathroom, the showerhead was a bit outlandish but it seemed to work all right. Three rooms in all, and just down the passage was the study, literally a few steps away. He certainly wouldn't have to worry about getting up early to travel to work.

Rukia entered, looking quite dusty and sneezing every few seconds. She had a loud explosive sneeze, not in the least bit dainty. In fact, if he closed his eyes he could imagine it coming from a man.

'Where've you been,' said Ichigo, dusting her off with his hands and smiling. A small cloud started to form around her.

'Cleaning,' ATCHOO, 'the lieutenants rooms.' ATCHOO, 'No-one's lived there,' AH-phew, 'for a while.'

He looked up at her face as he patted down her shoulders. She looked so under the weather, her eyes red and watery and her nose running freely no matter how many times she wiped it, that he couldn't help laugh.

'IT'S NOT,' ATCHOO, 'funny.' she shouted, gasping the last bit. She pushed him away angrily.

'Yes it is,' he said with a big grin, then he felt his nose itch. His amusement faded instantly. He tried to fight it, not to give in, because once it started he never would be able to contain more. But in the end, his resistance was futile.

HAH-HA-HAH-CHOOOOO.

'Serves you, right,' ATCHOO, she said, blowing her nose.

'YOU gave it to me,' HAHCHOOO, 'midget.' His hand was dripping with goodness knows what.

'WHAT DID YOU CALL,' ATCHOO, 'me?'

It was the first time they'd had an argument between sneezes.

x

The river flows gently

It was the end of the day, the end of another long day filled with filing and paperwork. Rukia and Ichigo were sitting side by side outside the barracks, watching the sun go down. They'd only finished a few minutes ago, a bit earlier than normal but then they'd been past the point of being capable of continuing. Some time after lunch they had received a hell-butterfly informing them that their formal promotion ceremony would be in two days time. There was no ways they would be finished the backlog by then, they wouldn't even be halfway, so they may as well pace themselves.

'Pretty,' she mused, looking out into the distance.

'Yeah,' he said, a small contented smile on his lips.

She leaned against him. If anybody had asked her why she'd done so she would have had no answer to give them, except that it seemed the thing to do at the time. It felt right. He didn't move, and they carried on staring out into the distance.

Rukia had initially had some reservations about working with Ichigo and heading a division together, but as they sat there she could feel them evaporate. Even after riling at each other throughout the day, and every day before. No matter what came between them, she understood him totally, and he understood her. More than anybody she had ever known, even Kaien-dono.

He was, she realised without shock, the most important person in her life.

'Yo, Ichigo,' Renji's voice carried over to them, and she quickly sat up straight before he came into view.

'Hey Renji,' said Ichigo, half turning his body to face him, 'What's up?'

'You wanna come drinking with me and the guys?'

'Aren't I under the legal age limit?' he said suspiciously.

'You're in Soul Society, age doesn't mean anything. Even Yachiru drinks. Or are you too good for us?'

He looked at her, clearly unsure what to do. He looked like he wanted to go. She smiled, 'I'll make my own way home. Just don't stay up too late.'

'Who are you, his mother?' laughed Renji.

'No, I'm his lieutenant,' she said crossly. 'And I'm the one who has to pick up the slack if he has a hangover.'

'Whatever, let's go, Ichigo,'

He nodded, 'I'll see you later, Rukia,' he said, and got up. She watched red-head lead him away. It was only when he was out of sight that she remembered something.

'Didn't I hear that Soul Societies sake is three times stronger than the real worlds version,' she said aloud, 'even if it tastes the same?'

x

The slow movement shaping the land

The next day was absolute torture for him. Ichigo had never been drunk before last night, he had to admit it had been a lot of fun at the time, even if he couldn't remember it all. He certainly didn't remember having that much to drink. But it definitely wasn't worth the hangover he was suffering from now. His head felt like it was splitting in two, his throat was dry, and he kept on needing to excuse himself to pass pitifully small amounts of liquid. There was only one thing that could have made his day even worse.

More paperwork.

Just concentrating on a page was painful. He gave up on trying to do anything that required any thinking, and did the routine stuff. It didn't help that Kiyone and Sentaro were constantly getting underfoot in their competition to be the most useful, nor that Rukia kept making snide comments about the evils of drinking. He decided that he was going to become a total teetotaller from today, and drink only fruit juice and water when he went out in the future.

Honestly it was a relief when the day was finally over. By that time his headache had faded, but his throat was still dry and his voice hoarse. He was bone weary and his stomach ached.

'You look tired,' said Rukia, looking up him. They were walking slowly back to the Kuchiki manor.

'You have no idea,' he groaned.

'How about we go to the hot springs?'

'How about we go back to your brother's house and sleep.'

'Come on, I know it will relax you.'

It turned out she was right. Slipping into the steaming, lightly salted water did make him feel a lot better. He didn't stay in long, not because he wasn't enjoying it, but because there were a lot of fat ugly naked men he was sharing the pool with. And they were staring at him. Gross. He'd had a massage afterwards, a real one, and felt so relaxed that he could have slept on the marble tiled floor.

Rukia came out of the woman's section with an odd expression on her face. She didn't look relaxed, if anything more tense.

'I ran into Matsumoto and Hinamori,' she explained when he asked.

'Hinamori?' he said, he didn't know everybody in Soul Society, at least not yet.

'The tenth squad lieutenant, she used to be in the fifth squad under Aizen.'

'Ah, right,' he said, he'd heard about her. She was the crazy girl who had refused to believe that her captain was a traitor even after he'd tried to kill her.

'One of them loves me, the other hates me,' she sighed.

'Why?'

'Hinamori blames you for killing Aizen, and me to a lesser extent since I made you a shinigami. Matsumoto loves just about everybody, and sees no reason why everyone else shouldn't be the same. She kept on trying to reconcile us. It was…awkward.'

They walked back in silence to the Kuchiki manor. There was nothing more to discuss, and neither had the energy to argue. After dinner Ichigo literally collapsed on his bed and fell asleep instantly. It had been a long day. And he would need all his strength for tomorrow.

And so the cycle begins anew

x

Renji took a deep breath as he pulled his head out of the thick stream of water, and moved aside for Ikkaku to have a turn. He grabbed the small sweat towel he'd brought and started vigorously drying his long hair. He then tied it up on a low ponytail, knowing from experience that he couldn't possibly achieve his normal style while it was damp.

'So sleek and beautiful, Abarai-kun,' said Yumichika appreciatively. 'Why don't you have that as your new look, being a captain and all.'

'Not a chance,' said Renji, smiling. It was an ongoing argument, one that had been going on almost since his transfer to the eleventh division many years ago.

'That was a good session,' said Iba, sheathing his sword. 'Same time, day after tomorrow?'

'What's wrong with tomorrow?' cried Ikkaku, turning and holding out his sheathed Zanpakutou, his bald head spraying droplets of water in all directions. 'Are you wussies so beat that you need to sleep extra?'

'It's not that,' said Renji, donning his haori. The sense of pride at being able to wear it hadn't faded yet. In times past he would have shouted back, but he felt now that he had to live up to his new responsibility. 'Tomorrow Ichigo is being raised to captaincy, and it's a bit of a tradition that captains go for drinks afterwards. So most of the day will be used up doing that.'

'The lieutenants have a similar tradition,' Iba put in, 'And Kuchiki Rukia will be raised on the same day.'

'You guys can just train together, since you'll be free,' said Renji, 'Unless, I did hear a rumour that we'll be getting another captain for the third that same day. Could it be you, Ikkaku-san?'

'Hell NO,' said Ikkaku, 'I'm not stupid, I don't want all that paperwork.'

'That's odd,' said Yumichika, 'since between us we do three quarters of the eleventh's documents.'

'YOU'RE NOT HELPING!'

'So it's not you,' said Renji. 'Pity, you'd make a good captain.'

The group of four were the only ones in Soul Society who knew about Ikkaku's Bankai. They also knew the reason why he never wanted to become a captain, he wanted to fight and die under Zaraki's command. Not all of them agreed with it though.

'Che, whatever. Let's go, Yumichika.'

The two of them walked off together, Yumichika turning to wave. Renji was left with his lieutenant. They finished freshening up and headed back to their divisional headquarters.

While many of the officers in Gotei thirteen had alternative accommodation that they would return to at the end of the day, and so have a break from their constant work surroundings, Renji and Iba were career soldiers. Neither came from wealthy backgrounds, they had worked their way up the ranks by sheer hard work and perseverance. So besides their wages, which they frequently blew on sake and sunglasses, they had no funds to draw upon. It would probably be half a century or more before they would be able to afford even the most modest accommodation.

Since they lived so close as well as working together, it was probably a good thing that they had know each other previously and got on so well. They had never been friends as such, more acquaintances by extension of their mutual friendship with Ikkaku. They been in the eleventh for a time together, Renji taking Iba's sixth seat place when the other man had transferred to become a lieutenant. He had since surpassed his former senior.

They worked well as a team, so well that the line separating their ranks only really existed when it came to meeting time. During the day-to-day running they worked hand in hand, figuratively speaking. They also got up to a fair bit of manly arguing, which generally resulted in them both getting quite emotional and loud over insignificant matters. But things were going well in the seventh division, in most departments.

There was just one glaring problem: the seventh now had the demeaning reputation as the weakest division in Gotei thirteen. Worse still, they were becoming known as the reject eleventh squad, since both of them were originally from there. It was a known fact that he was the weakest captain, Iba wasn't bad for a lieutenant but nothing to write home about, and their seated officers below were so weak that nobody had ever heard of them. It was a catch-22 situation; how could they attract shinigami with notable potential without a good reputation, how could they get a good reputation without strong shinigami in their division?

It was primarily his own fault, he knew. As captain he was the figurehead as well as the leader of the division, and although he'd passed his captaincy exam had been disastrous. If he was seen to become powerful, good applicants would flock to join. He would train every day he could, he decided, at least five days a week. Then he would challenge another captain, one he could beat, to a public duel on some trumped-up dishonour thingy. With the publicity that created he would get stronger people, and rebuild his officers base. It was foolproof, within in a few short decades his division would be the crème a la crème of Gotei thirteen.

Until then, they'd have to be content with the dregs. The losers who couldn't get into eleventh division or the others. It was going to be a long, hard few decades.

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