Toxic
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Rukia's expression is grim as the sound of another explosion echoes through the Barracks. It detonates a little too close for her liking, loud and powerful enough to send the building she is about to enter shaking, knocking the shoji door off its hinges.
"It's getting closer," she mutters to herself as the dust settles. She casts a worrying look to the sky, glaring at the strange new world that has opened above Seireitei.
The Quincy Army- the Wandenreich is much more powerful than anyone ever expected and the Gotei 13 are woefully unprepared for the sudden siege. Their enemies know too much. They know exactly when and where to strike. They have had the time to gather intelligence and it shows in the end result. Every weakness in Seireitei's defences has been exploited and the chinks in her armour are becoming glaringly obvious.
The Fourth Division Infirmary is crammed full of injured Shinigamis and Rukia has seen first-hand the carnage rendered to the civilians- the ordinary Souls on the streets of Seireitei, too weak to protect themselves against the onslaught of the invading army. The new recruits and unseated officers fare no better, many of them pulverized and eviscerated with a mere blow. The streets of Seireitei are a warzone full of disfigured corpses and ruined buildings. The once clean pavements now run slick with blood. Most of the Seireitei nobles have hightailed into the Living World at the first sign of trouble brewing. There is a part of her that burns from the shame by association.
Yamamoto-Soutaichou was last heard to have taken a stance. He has drawn his sword against the Quincy Emperor, engaging the tyrant and a handful of his finest attackers- his Sternritters, in battle. His gruff voice is still ringing in her ears:
"Place everything you have on the line, and crush them where they stand! Even if they should tear your flesh from your bones, make every last fragment of those bones an iron wall! They must not be permitted to set a single foot upon Soul Society's ground!"
But Rukia has spent too much time on the streets of Inuzuri as an orphan to be optimistic. A mere victory from the Soutaichou- as powerful as he may be, would not be enough to turn the tides of the battle in their favour.
It borders on treason but most divisions have already withdrawn the bulk of their attack forces to conserve what little fighting power they have. Tensions run thick in the air and their pride stings, but the writing is on the wall: it is only a matter of time before Seireitei falls. The Captains are loathed to admit it but a tactical retreat is the only option left.
Loud hacking coughs draw her attention back to the situation at hand. Rukia steels herself as she enters the room.
"Ukitake-Taichou!" she calls out in alarm when she sees her captain crumpled on the floor. Ukitake is doubled over in pain, holding a hand to his mouth as he tries his best to contain his coughing fit. The aftershock from the explosion leaves nothing unscathed. The office looks ransacked with knocked-over furniture and paperwork littered all over the wooden floorboards. The inkwell was knocked over when the table toppled and conveniently shatters, splattering ink and fractured splinters of the slab everywhere. Ukitake's favourite tea set is nothing more than broken shards of china and she takes care to avoid stepping on them as she makes her way over to him.
Rukia helps him to his feet, patting him gently on his back as he eases himself into a seating position. His breathing is wheezy and laboured as he recovers from the attack. The coughing fits have become more erratic and intense lately, with each bout lasting longer than the last and Rukia doesn't want to think about the implications.
"You wanted to see me, Taichou?" Rukia asks tentatively instead. She was in the middle of directing the new recruits before she got called away. Kiyone has insisted that it was important and that Ukitake needed to see her urgently.
He shakes his head, trying his best to speak in between coughs, callused fingers pressing something into her hands, "t-take this!"
"This is—"
The polished wood she holds in her palms is well-aged and smooth to the touch. It radiates warmth, lends weight to her heart despite its appearance. Engraved upon it are the characters and flower insignia of the Thirteenth. Rukia is holding the vice-captain's badge in her hands and she finds herself speechless at the gesture. She is not worthy.
"I-I cannot accept this, Ukitake-Taichou!" She is trying her best not to stutter as she pushes the badge back at her captain, "I-I have not done anything to merit t-this. Kaien-dono would be—"
Ukitake's tone is stern as his voice cuts through her protests.
"You can and you will. You have more than earned your position. Byakuya-kun cannot begrudge me for this. To do so in Seireitei's greatest time of need would have been unimaginably selfish and dishonourable."
Ukitake readily accepts the badge from Rukia's trembling fingers, but instead of pocketing it into the depths of his sleeves. He reaches over to tie it over her arm. He knots it tight and beams at her like a proud parent when it is done. The sight of the badge on her forearm fills her with pride and Shirayuki hums in contentment at the acknowledgement of their strength.
"Kaien would be proud of his protégé," Ukitake tells her; a wistful expression on his face, "I only wish it could have been done under better circumstances."
The sound of another explosion nearby sends the building groaning, interrupting the moment. Ukitake rises to his feet, every inch the alert and formidable Captain that he is. His hand grips the hilt of his unreleased zanpakutou and mirrors the look on Rukia's face.
"Yama-Jii is only prolonging the inevitable. Soul Society- Seireitei can't hold on for much longer like this. But it will, if nothing else, buy us some time. Rukia, listen to me. There isn't much time left. We have to leave for the Human World now. There is a plan- a failsafe if you will. Gather as many people as you can. The other divisions are already on the move. I will explain more when we get there."
Rukia bows her head low, "Yes, Taichou. I will round up the rest of the division immediately. Kiyone and Sentarou should stay with you."
Her captain stills, frowning at her. "What about you? You are coming with us of course, Rukia."
"Forgive my impertinence, Taichou but the Wandenreich recognize the faces of the Captains and most of the seated officers in the Gotei 13. They would have targeted you the instant they saw you. You will need someone to draw their attention away while you make your escape."
Rukia chews at her bottom lip and bows her head even lower.
"A vice-captain supports her captain- to the best of her abilities. I must lead by example. I-I—" her fists clench. Fear lines her thoughts but she stands firm by her decision as she replies, "I will lead some of the members away to act as bait while you and the others make your escape."
The set of Ukitake's jaw is tight with unease as he mulls over Rukia's decision. Rukia knows that he is torn. Her captain is too kind and the thought of leaving behind even one of the fresh out of the Academy recruits is enough to plague him with worry and regret. But this is war and hard decisions like this need to be made every second on it. The need of the many outweighs those of a few. The realist in him knows it too. There is no time to be magnanimous, no time for second-guessing.
They need to survive this and regroup in the Human World for a chance to win back all that they have lost.
"The Wandenreich will see the badge and come running after me. But I am an unseated officer until now so they should have little to no intelligence gathered on me," says Rukia as she tries to convince him to go along with her plan, "I will be careful and re-join you in the Human World as soon as I can."
"Rukia, you—"
"Please don't tell me any more about your plans, Taichou. I don't want the knowledge to be used against you somehow."
The Wandenreich is devious and she has heard horror stories of comrades being turned against each other and Shinigami bankai being stolen. It isn't too much of a stretch to think that a device can be utilized somehow to make Shinigamis betray each other.
At length, Ukitake concedes. Heaving a weary sigh, he tells her in a hushed whisper, "Do not engage the Sternritters in battle unless absolutely necessary. Come to the Human World with your team as soon as Kiyone sends you a message via kido. A man that goes by the name of Urahara Kisuke will hold the senkaimon open for you. I will inform him to keep it open until your team makes it through."
Rukia gives a firm nod.
"Remember our insignia, Rukia. Hope springs eternal for those who live to fight another day. Survive this- whatever happens."
"Understood."
Rukia is dry-eyed as she exits the room. The weight of her new badge is reassuring on her. There is something reminiscent of its predecessor in it- the sound of ocean waves crashing against the shoreline, sea-green eyes as calm as they are radiant. Kaien-dono's familiar presence lingers and Rukia grips the hilt of Shirayuki tighter as she makes her way to the training grounds to gather her troops.
The Wandenreich has no reason to keep an eye out for her. Rukia is neither the most powerful nor the most skilful among the Shinigamis. Her zanpakutou while admired for its icy beauty is not one that is feared nor given as much of a consideration as that of Captain Hitsugaya's Hyorinmaru. Her anonymity- her identity as a previously unseated Shinigami is probably the best protection she can be afforded in this instance.
They will be fine, she tells herself. Senrarou and Kiyone will look after him and makes sure he doesn't overexert himself. Her captain is strong and resilient. His illness has not gotten the better of him after so many years and Rukia is inclined to think that nothing will. Ukitake needs to survive because she cannot imagine a Thirteenth Division that exists without him leading it.
She holds her head up high, walking like a true noble born and bred within the walls of Seireitei and every inch the ice princess that she is rumoured to be. The Thirteenth have always been survivors at its core.
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Rukia wakes up with a start. Her hand rises to her left arm only to feel soft cotton under her fingertips. There is no polished wood that sits there and her black shihakusho is conspicuously missing on her. She blinks, stirring awake, suddenly reminded of her predicament and the situation at hand. Sleep is now the furthest thing from her mind.
She grimaces, cheeks colouring as she remembers the tattered state of her shihakusho but that is beside the point. Unlike Shirayuki, the badge was still attached to her, wrapped and banded around the left arm of the uniform when she was captured and brought to Silbern. With luck, the band on her badge should hold. It should still be among the pile of dirty clothes left on the floor in the bathroom. She needs to see for herself that it is still here with her.
The badge is a physical reminder of Ukitake's trust in her, a sign of pride in her abilities and her loyalty as a Shinigami. For the sake of Kaien and her captain, she must know that she still has it on her, that their trust in her has not been misplaced. Her mind is focused at the task at hand, eager to find it.
But why can't she move?
She is being held down by something. It feels like a furnace has been lit and stuck to her back. She can feel her clothes being plastered to her as sweat rolls down her neck. Her mouth feels dry and she squirms against the heat source, trying to get away from it, but for some reason, she can't.
She half turns, raising her head weakly to peer at what's behind her only to stiffen at the sight of the sleeping man holding onto her like his personal teddy bear. Strong sinewy arms are draped across her midsection, holding her in place.
Streaks of the dying day make their way in through the open blinds and the golden light gilds him. Honey-brown skin thrums warm under her touch. He is bare-chested and naked save for the loose pants he keeps on. Pink blush stains her cheeks when she realizes just how tightly they are pressed against each other.
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Ichigo!
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She must have been even more exhausted than she realized; too tired to sense his presence until just now. Soft ginger hair covers his eyes. In his sleep, he looks so endearingly boyish and unguarded. Rukia reaches out, struck by the sudden temptation to run her fingers through his hair before she snatches them away as though she's been burnt. Looks can be deceiving and the Sternritter is a textbook example of it. She really can't afford to let her guard down around him or he'll worm his way under her skin and ruin her.
As if sensing the weight of her stare and her heavy thoughts, tawny eyelashes flutter open to reveal golden brown eyes. His gaze is piercing and easily steals her breath away when they meet.
"You're awake," he murmurs. His voice is husky with sleep and Rukia is embarrassingly affected by it and the trail of kisses he presses down the length of her neck, his lips ghosting the shell of her ear. Goosebumps rise on her skin. Memories of what happened between them earlier are still fresh on her mind. She is ashamed of her body's response to him, ashamed of how she barely even puts up a fight against it. She gulps, trying to keep her tone curt as she asks him.
"How did you get here?"
"What a strange question to ask," he muses aloud. His grip on her suddenly tightens and Rukia feels her heart speeding in response, "This is my bedroom and you are sleeping in my bed. Tell me; where else would I be, Ru-ki-a?"
His fingers reach out to play with the ends of her shoulder-length hair. Rukia flinches from his touch, inwardly cursing. She feels the brush of his fingers against her flushed skin a second later and struggles against it but to no avail, Ichigo is much stronger than she is after all. He merely holds her tighter to his chest, entangling their legs together as she squirms. She growls, digging her nails into his arms to make him loosen his hold. Yet Ichigo doesn't so much as grunt from the pain and retaliates by nipping at her exposed throat and the top of her shoulders.
The makeshift dress she has on makes for a good sleepwear, but the cotton is too sheer and too thin for anything else. It hides very little of her figure. Baggy to begin with, the collar of the shirt slips a little lower over her left shoulder while the end rides up a little higher on her thighs the more she struggles and squirms. It offers no resistance at all as Ichigo slides his hands underneath it.
Fingers callused from the grip of a bow and sword rove at her naked body. His large hands stray to cup and palm at her breasts. The pads of his fingers are rough but the friction created as his touch slides and brushes against her heated skin is delicious. She clamps down hard on her lower lip, trying not to moan even as hot breath fans her cheeks. She is sensitive and the way he tugs and pulls at her nipples makes her shudder with need.
"S-Stop that!"
Rukia doesn't understand his obsession with them. She has always been of the opinion that her breasts are smaller than average and far from impressive, but Ichigo seems to think of them as the perfect handful. His eyes take on a predatory gleam as he gropes at them, flicking and tweaking at her nipples with his fingers until they are hardened nubs and straining against the cotton.
"Give in to me, Rukia. You know you want to. I can make you feel so good. Make you come over and over again with my mouth, my fingers and my cock—" He thrusts his hips shallowly at her. The outline of the bulge strains against his pants and the feel of it is enough for her to catch her breath. Her eyes are half-shut and glassy. He takes advantage of it to press more of himself against her, his voice dipping an octave lower—"I'll fuck you until you're screaming my name and stuffed full of my come. I won't stop even when you beg me to, Rukia. I want to let everyone know that you're mine."
His dark, throaty chuckles are ringing in her ears as his fingers lightly tracing the swell of her breasts, flatness of her stomach and lower still. Her breath hitches when they dip dangerously low past her navel, a single digit twirling at the curls of her sex. She is so embarrassingly wet, so weak at the sound of his voice and the filthy words he spews that she is shaking, her mind running fevered and wild at the images she conjures in the darkest recesses of her mind.
She sees herself being bent over the bed, face down and fucked hard into the mattress while Ichigo makes good on his promise. He keeps his weight on her, pinning her down as he ploughs into her mercilessly, over and over again until there's a mess of body fluids leaking from her holes. He thrusts deep, burying himself until he is balls-deep inside of her, pulling away only to slam himself harder and faster inside of her. His fingers are rubbing at her clit, his lips muttering obscene, filthy things into her ears and she is screaming as she falls apart under him.
"Oh—" he smirks, taking note of her dilated pupils and her breathless whimpers— "you really like the sound of that, don't you? You like the idea of me fucking you like an animal until you can't walk straight, Rukia?"
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Yes, yes—
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Without warning, her stomach makes a loud rumble, stilling their movements. Ichigo frowns, withdrawing his touch.
"When was the last time you ate?"
The innocent question shatters the delirium of the moment. Rukia's face colours, her ears are burning from shame as she realizes what she was about to do. She hides her face, her hands tugging at the ends of the shirt to pull it down. Her mouth is dry and her tongue is too thick to form words.
"D-Does it matter?"
Ichigo scowls, tilting her face up by the chin to deliver a searing kiss to her lips, nipping at her lower lip for good measure as he mutters, "I didn't go through all that effort of saving you only for you to starve yourself to death. You should have told me. I take care of what's mine."
She bristles. He must be delusional. 'Saving' her?
He did no such thing! He kidnapped her and made her his pet. He violated her, but worse still, she wanted him to. His dirty-talking made her wet and she wanted- she wants—
She raises her head towards him. Ichigo's golden eyes are gleaming and his body heat hovers close by. She can easily reach for him and pick up from where they left off. Physical attraction and carnal desires simmer within her. She is sorely tempted. Her body is still aching, her mood partly soured by the withdrawal of his touch. The realization that she wants him; that she is enslaved to her body's physical reaction to him, scares her.
The room is spinning. Rukia spirals- too caught up in her thoughts, too shocked by the extent of her own depravity to react as Ichigo gathers her into his arms. There is a hint of perverse amusement behind his smirk. He is watching her, studying her reactions as she brings her fingers to her lips, stunned into silence by the unwelcomed realization.
Soon, he thinks to himself, his little Shinigami will be his and screaming his name before the week is over. She is his and he will make her understand that, drive that point home with every brush of his lips against hers, every searing touch of his fingers on her body. He will fuck her hard and good and make sure she never leaves.
Ichigo lets the dark thrill settle under his bones, reigning in his more carnal impulses as he presses a soft kiss to the top of her head before tucking her under his chin. Good things come to those who wait after all, and he has her right where he wants her to be. There is no need to unsettle or make her skittish by rushing the process.
He carries her bridal style into the kitchen with an unusual cheerfulness to him, "Let me feed you."
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"Stop glaring at the food and eat it," coaxes Ichigo as he holds out strawberry slices on a fork. He holds it by Rukia's mouth, tracing at the outlines of her lips with it to tempt her to open up.
The strawberries are as big as her thumb, thinly sliced and coated with a layer of powdery sugar. The sight of them cut neatly in a bowl- glistening and fresh is enough to make her drool. Her lips are stained red by the juices. They seep in through the crack of her lips and Rukia almost moans at the sweetness but she stubbornly keeps her lips clamped, keeps her eyes fixed on the wall behind Ichigo instead.
"I-I am not hungry."
The obvious lie is accompanied by another hungry growl from her stomach, earning her an exasperated sigh from Ichigo as he tries again.
"What's wrong? You know I didn't poison them."
Rukia was there, mutely watching from her perch on the kitchen stool after he deposited her on it. He runs the handful of strawberries under the tap, rinsing them dry before he proceeds to show off his skills with a knife, serving the fresh fruits in neat little slices.
As if to placate her concerns, he pops the sweetened strawberries into his own mouth, barely even chewing before swallowing. "See? You have nothing to fear from me. I don't want to hurt you. I won't force you into doing anything you don't want to."
Her eyes flash dangerously at that. She somehow finds her voice again. Her anger and frustration at the situation is only skin-deep, readily igniting as she reaches for it. She snorts as she tells him coldly, "Didn't stop you from pawing at me like a sex-crazed animal just now."
"Oh, is that what it was?"
Ichigo chuckles, amused as he swipes his thumb across her lips while his hand grasps at the base of her chin, "Don't be a hypocrite, Rukia. You wanted me. You didn't fight it when I was touching you just now. What do you have to say to that?"
Rukia's cheeks burn. She is too honest for her own good to ever be a hypocrite. He has no right calling her out like this. She hates him!
Her reflexes are honed and anger propels her actions. Her fingers are stinging and the side of his face turned away from her before she even realizes it. The surprise on his face is slight- his eyes barely widening, his smirk still curling on his lips.
"Looks like I struck a nerve there, huh?"
Her chest heaves when he wraps his hand around her outstretched wrist, grip turning bruising as he grins at her- shark-toothed and more than a little dangerous in the way his eyes are suddenly fire and gold.
She gulps, breath shuddering, "What do you want from me?"
"You know what I want, Rukia. I want y—"
Ichigo is interrupted as the doors to the apartment are pushed open with a loud groan. Surprised, they both whirl to turn their attention towards the doors.
The woman who enters the room is tall and beautiful. A mass of russet-toned curls tumble freely down her back. Much like her red hair, her features are equally striking though softened by the smile she wears, brown eyes just a shade darker than Ichigo's.
The stranger carries herself with an air of quiet confidence, demure perhaps- but by no means, meek. She is a Quincy- maybe even a Sternritter, thinks Rukia when her eyes flit to the long-sleeved fitted coat she has on. She is dressed for the weather with her white gloves, knee-length skirt and fur capelet. The ankle boots she has on makes a faint noise against the floorboards as she makes her way in. Rukia stiffens, suddenly conscious about her state of undress and the absence of Shirayuki.
Ichigo's immediate reaction to the stranger's arrival is significantly less awe-struck as he crosses the island in two strides and shields Rukia away from view by stepping in front of her.
"Mother," he scowls, crossing his arms, "do you mind?"
Rukia stares despite her best attempts to contain her surprise. She is stunned by the revelation. This gorgeous woman is Ichigo's mother?!
What is she doing here?
Hidden behind Ichigo, her eyes quickly flit between the two. She sees the resemblance- barely there in the shape of their eyes, but stronger in the stubborn tilt of their chins. Ichigo's hair is lighter and his eyes are more amber than brown.
His mother scoffs, waving him off. "Oh hush! Where are your manners, Ichigo? Introduce us!"
Ichigo rolls his eyes, but his gaze softens when he sees the way Rukia fists at her clothes despite the brave face she puts on. She has every right to be nervous given her previous experiences with Quincy and Sternritters, but his mother is an exception.
He reaches out and gently tugs her by the hand, "Don't be scared. This is Masaki, my mother. She won't hurt you."
"My idiot son is right, you know! I'm not going to hurt you."
"Hey!"
Ichigo scowls at the jab, but Masaki ignores him as she squeezes past. Her grin is bright enough to dazzle Rukia as she bends to her eye-level. She doesn't seem to mind Rukia's state of undress and prattles on, chiding at Ichigo for not getting her sooner.
Masaki frowns, poking her son in the chest, "Did you think you could hide this from your own mother? Silbern is already in an uproar over the news."
Ichigo grumbles, "I wasn't trying to keep you out of it at all! You're just early. I wasn't expecting you until later."
"You wanted my help. So stop whining!"
Turning to Rukia, Masaki's gaze is motherly and more than a little protective as she notices how thin she is. The Shinigami is tiny to begin with. Her violet eyes are big and wide, guileless even. Her wrists are slender enough that Masaki thinks she can close her hand around it with room to spare. Rukia looks so helpless and small. The situation couldn't have been worse for her- a lone Shinigami trapped inside an enemy fortress, surrounded by threats at all sides, yet she tries her best to straighten her back, suppressing her discomfort to meet their gazes openly and without fear.
"I can see why my boy made such a fuss over you."
Ichigo would have found the combination irresistible. Masaki doesn't doubt the truth behind stories of how he plucked her straight from the warzone, going so far as to threaten the Schutzstaffel over her. Her son is nothing if not stubborn and when he finds something that he wants to keep, Masaki pities the poor fool who dares to come between him and the object he desires.
She couldn't have cared less if it is just an object that Ichigo's fixated on. But she is conflicted as she stares at the woman in front of her. The Shinigami is a person, not a toy or a prize to be jealously hoarded. The lioness in her is aghast at how her son has wrapped Rukia in a thin cotton shirt and if the bite marks were any indication at all, has tried to assert his claim over her in more ways than one.
"Come!" Masaki says, abruptly getting to her feet. She needs to assess the situation with her own eyes— "There is no time to waste. I already have the seamstress and her assistant waiting in my room."
If she finds out from Rukia that her son forced himself on her, violated her in any way at all, Masaki grimaces; there will be words!
Ichigo scowls. "At least let me feed her before she leaves. She hasn't even eaten yet."
Masaki detaches her fur capelet to wrap it around Rukia as she leads her towards the door. She hides her frown as she waits for Rukia to slip on her waraji sandals. The thin slippers will have to do for now until they get warmer clothes and fur lined boots for her. The chill of Silbern is merciless.
At the threshold of the door, she shoots her son a sharp glare. "Don't you worry about that! We'll get the fitting done and have a bit of a girl talk while you reflect on your actions and think about what you did wrong."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Masaki rolls her eyes. She thought she raised him better than that. "Figure it out! I didn't raise a simpleton for a son."
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The mirrors are full-length and ornate, framed in silver and the edges designed to resemble creeping vines. Surrounded by three of them, Rukia stands still on a foot stool. She is dressed in a simple shift dress lent to her by the dressmaker as her measurements are being taken.
The seamstress is a quiet woman with brown hair and cool hands, a woman of many talents it seems, doubling as shoemaker for her. The assistant is decidedly mute. The only sound that Rukia hears from her is the sound of pen scratching lightly on paper as she jots down the measurements and the snap of measuring tape that slides against her skin. Both women carefully avoid her gaze, barely looking up at all as they work in tandem. They speak only when spoken to, answering Masaki's questions respectfully.
Rukia doesn't detect much animosity from them, at best it borders on indifference. Their touch is clinical and detached, only lingering long enough for them to complete their tasks. Both women seem content to pretend that she is there as a doll to model clothes on and nothing more. Their focus is centred on Masaki. Her waraji sandals need replacing and when Masaki makes a rushed order for more appropriate footwear for her, the woman bends over backwards to meet her request. Rukia lets her mind wander as the woman becomes embroiled in a discussion with Masaki over the materials and designs- 'Does Madame Kurosaki prefer the taffeta silk for the dress?' 'Is the design of the pleated skirt to Madame's liking?'
Just who are the Kurosakis and why are both mother and son treated with such deference?
"Rukia!"
She snaps back into reality.
"Yes, Masaki-san?"
The woman frowns. "Are you sure there's nothing in particular that you would like to request?"
Rukia shakes her head. She has seen the design sketches. They feature dresses and skirts, with some knitwear and woollen jumpers thrown in the mix. The silhouettes are clean and simple- very much to her taste. She doesn't have any more to add.
"Hmm," says Masaki as she flips through the sketches with a critical eye. There is a further discussion prompted on the choice of material for one of the dresses in particular and the embroidery details at the hemline, but Rukia wilfully tunes it out. At length, Masaki shuts the portfolio and Rukia thinks she hears a sigh of relief from the women.
"How quickly can they be done?"
"Within the week, Madame," says the dressmaker, "The undergarments and the shoes will be done earlier- by the end of the day after tomorrow."
"Good. Now, I have a special request. My son is not to know about this," whispers Masaki conspiratorially as she takes a sheaf of paper and starts sketching away. Rukia sneaks a peek at the drawing, her face colouring when the shapes begin to take shape in graphite. Masaki is a talented artist but the clothes that she sketches can barely be called as such.
The end result is a two-piece bustier set that seems to be held together by ribbons going down the back. There are sheer panels by the side, a deep V-cut that Masaki has shaded in and written 'lace' by the side. The garter and stockings are the finishing touches that she puts on the sketch and Rukia wonders how anyone would be able to dress themselves in that without getting lost in the mess and tangle of ribbons.
Happy with her design, Masaki hands it over to the seamstress who watches on unruffled and her slack-jawed assistant. She doesn't give them a chance to react as she continues unperturbed. "I want them in black lace and satin, in Rukia's measurement. Put them on my son's tab. He will gladly foot the bill."
"O-Of course, Madame. The fitting is in two days' time."
Masaki nods, "Thank you for your time."
With that, the two women left, eager to get started. Rukia is mortified as she turns to Masaki. Her embarrassment shows in the twin spots of colour on her cheeks.
"Masaki-san? Why would you—"
"Oh Rukia. Trust me. You'll thank me in the future. Lingerie is a woman's weapon in the bedroom. Use it well and I guarantee my son will be putty in your hands. Ichigo— I can't stop my son but I can at least help you exert some form of control and negotiate some freedom from him."
"Now tell me—" Masaki's gaze is warm and motherly as she regards Rukia and gently helps her off the stool — "what has my idiot son done to you?"
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Rukia is in better spirits and appetite as warm food is served on the table. She eats slowly, nibbling the bread offered in small and measured bites with an occasional sip of the thick soup. The vegetable soup is filling and the hunger pangs abate.
Masaki is seated across the table from her, quiet and pensive as she nurses a cup of warm tea. The Quincy woman- Ichigo's mother has been kind to her. She listened to her, let her relate her story of abduction from the battlefield by Ichigo without interruptions, dried her tears while she cried and vented. Rukia is careful to omit what she was doing prior to her capture, all the parts pertaining to her identity as a seated officer and how she aided her team's escape into the Human World, but Masaki doesn't even seem remotely interested at that.
"Why are you being so nice to me? You're a Quincy. I am a Shinigami. We are enemies."
Masaki sets her cup down on the table. Her voice is hushed and barely audible as she mutters, "Yhwach will have my head for this but there is no reason that Quincy and Shinigamis cannot coexist. I think we need to take a step back to focus on our similarities instead of what makes us different. Did we not all start off with a need and want to protect the innocent?"
Rukia narrows her eyes, suddenly suspicious.
"You seem unnaturally tolerant of Shinigamis, Masaki-san."
"Oh stop being so formal with me! Call me Masaki. I have already decided to adopt you as my thir—" Masaki coughs, clearing her throat loudly before she beams at Rukia with a smile that doesn't quite meet her eyes— "I have decided to take you under my wing."
Rukongai is a good teacher and Rukia learned from an early age to trust her instincts. It has seen her through back alley scuffles and brushes with death one time too many. There is a strange catch in Masaki's voice when she stumbled on her words before she covered it up with a cough. There is something more to what she was trying to say. Rukia knows that there is.
A sigh follows as Masaki continues, her chin propped in her palm, a faraway look in her eyes, "As for my somewhat- shall we say, unnatural view, I- I saved the life of a Shinigami once. And he in turn, saved mine. I wouldn't be here if it weren't because of him. Experience makes even a fool wise, wouldn't you say?"
Silence stretches between them with that strange confession. Rukia chews at her bottom lip. She wants to know more, naturally curious about how the event happened and the consequences of it but holds herself back. She is not brash and far from insensitive. She doesn't want to risk alienating her only ally thus far just to prod for more details. Masaki sounds sad and doesn't seem interested in divulging any more on the matter so she changes the subject.
There is a far more pressing matter that she needs answers to. It has been gnawing at her ever since her confrontation with the trio of Sternritters she crossed paths with at the entrance of Silbern. Seeing the deferential treatment Masaki receives from the two women only deepens her curiosity. There is something about Ichigo and his mother- the Kurosakis. She can't quite put her finger on it but Rukia is sure that it is important.
"Who are you, Masaki? And who is Ichigo? Why is everyone here so… respectful to both of you?"
Masaki doesn't answer immediately. Her hand clenches tight at the cup while the other slides some of her hair behind her ear.
"Ah. It's got less to do with who I am and more to do with who I am related to—" Nervousness pits in Rukia's stomach. She has a bad feeling about this, but the words are already tumbling out of Masaki's lips— "There are certain perks that come with being the birth mother of the Crown Prince after all."
The spoon in Rukia's hands clatter noisily into the bowl, sending some of the soup splashing on the table cloth. Her blood turns to ice.
"Oh he didn't tell you?"
Masaki's tone is not without pride, but there is something else behind it. Rukia detects a hint of bitterness behind her words. The strange look that passes through her eyes before she straightens her back and smiles plays on Rukia's mind long after the conversation ends.
"My son is Kurosaki Ichigo, the Crown Prince of the Wandenreich Empire."
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Author's note:
Welp, there you go! Now everyone is on the same page- well almost everyone. Rukia now knows that she is sleeping in the bed of a crown prince and that is going to change things.
Song inspo: Closer (Nine Inch Nails), Toxic (Melanie Martinez version)
You guys get an early chapter because I am on holiday and a nerd . Enjoy!