The Things We Do for Love
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Ichigo has lots of opinions and adjectives that he associates with weddings- none of them fit for polite company nor flattering at the moment as he pushes the glass doors to the bridal shop open, clutching a bouquet of flowers to his chest.
The Substitute Shinigami may not have attended a lot of them during his lifetime but he has always concluded, what with his crazy old man's teary-eyed displays and flair for dramatics, that if he were to ever get married, it would be infinitely easier and far less painful to just elope. The location has always eluded him but knowing what he knows now, he is not so hasty as to rule out the possibility of stealing Rukia away to Hueco Mundo and bask in all its sunny, not-a-rainy-cloud-to-be-seen, sandy bone-dry glory. It would at the very least keep Shinigamis (cough, Byakuya, cough) at bay while he indulges himself in marital bliss with his wife.
In fact, that was what he should have done. When he proposed to Rukia, he should have already set a small bag aside packed with basic necessities and some of her clothes (and her drawing pad) ready to go, and hopped right off to the desert wonderland the minute she said yes.
But, no!
He was too naïve and did not know any better. He especially did not know what Byakuya Kuchiki- a.k.a. his future brother-in-law/bastard of the century/bane of his marital bliss was capable of in his quest for the PerfectTM wedding for Rukia. Without even looking at him for permission, the dark-haired noble assumed commandership and taken charge of the many facets and aspects of wedding planning. He also singlehandedly decided that weddings- read: yes, wedding(s) are not a want but an actual need. One, for those in the Soul Society; the other, for those of his human world friends and kins.
As a groom-to-be, Ichigo has more than once not-so politely hinted that his help was highly unnecessary but Byakuya merely gave him a dark glare, his aristocratic eyebrow haughtily arched. A weaker (or smarter, for the matter) man would have looked away but Ichigo returned his gaze and scowled fiercer in response. Their stand-off was followed quickly by a dangerous spike in reiatsu from Byakuya, enough to make Ichigo inch his hand towards his own blade, worrying at the thought of accidentally wounding his future brother-in-law in a fight.
Thankfully, it did not come to blows between them. Ichigo did not think that Rukia would like it very much to have her brother injured merely days before the wedding. But in a tone that brooked no argument, Byakuya coldly informed him that the floral arrangements have already been picked out; that Rukia makes for a lovely bride in scarlet red camellias and midnight blue forget-me-nots; that he was going to walk his beloved sister- Hisana's greatest regret and his pride and redemption down the aisle, but more importantly, he was not about to give her away to a man too selfish to make compromises on her special day.
That was the end of their 'discussion'.
So Ichigo sucked it up, playing niceties and smiles- gritting his teeth hard and clenching his fists even harder, as he went along with the many changes and tribulations that Byakuya put them through. At the very least, Rukia seemed happy and he wanted her to be a happy bride for their wedding. For that, he was willing to jump through burning hoops of fire, shouting at Byakuya 'how high?" before he leaped, bit hard at the tip of his tongue; resisting the urge to twitch and fidget when his tailor measured him for a fitting.
Yet, for all his compromises and careful relenting, he inevitably gets into an argument with Rukia. It was over something stupid- something about flower arrangements and napkin folds, that much he remembers. It escalated into their usual name-calling and bantering, only this time Rukia is hell-bent on giving him the cold shoulder treatment.
Rukia won't talk to him; won't even acknowledge him when he calls her name. After a whole week of that Ichigo has finally had enough. He felt downright miserable and he missed her togue-in-cheek sass more than he would care to admit. By hook or by crook, today would be the day he would set this wrong right and if he had to grovel then so be it. His dignity and male ego have suffered worse over the years.
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Today is the day of Rukia's bridal dress fitting. Both of his sisters are going to be there at the bridal shop. After Karin sent him the text, Ichigo immediately leaps off the chair, arriving outside the shop in record time with a bouquet at hand, ready to grovel and humbly beg for his fiancée's forgiveness the minute he sees her.
He has a whole speech down pat and memorized. Yet, nothing could have prepared him for the sight of Rukia all dressed in white when he pushed open the double glass doors.
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Oh!
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"Ichi-Nii!"
Yuzu's half-horrified screech is more admonishment than anything else. Karin is there as well, he realizes, sitting in the plush velvet two-seater behind with her phone in her hands, pretending that she has absolutely nothing to do with his unexpected arrival at the dress fitting session. Ichigo does not mind. He owes her big time and he promised that he would not sell her out to Yuzu.
His other sister on the other hand, crosses her arms, her bossy Kurosaki streak showing as she cocks her head at him, tutting at him for his lack of manners with a hint of exasperation in her tone. "Don't you know that it's bad luck to see the bride in her wedding dress before the wedding?"
Ichigo hears her of course, but he laughably cannot bring himself to process the words or give a proper reaction. His hands are clammy and there is a lump lodged in his throat. He can barely make out his own voice over the sound of his deafening heartbeat.
"R-Rukia?"
She looks so much more beautiful than he had ever envisioned.
She stands in a white dress with lace and trimmings, her shoulders bare and her eyes bright. Sunlight streams from the window behind her. It highlights the curve of her cheeks and the colour staining them. Under the light, her eyes are a lighter shade than normal, but that does not mean that they lack the ability to suck him in and steal his breath away.
Ichigo gulps, suddenly remembering that there is an audience when he hears snickers and giggles from the twins. He catches Karin rolling her eyes at him before she pointedly glares at what he has in his hands.
He glances at the bouquet of white lilies and blue forget-me-nots, suddenly aware of their existence and his purpose for the visit. The lilies are in full bloom. The small dots of blue offered by the forget-me-nots are cheerful-looking, softening the effect of the longer stemmed flowers. He cannot say the same for the stalks. He might have squashed them somewhat, squeezing them a bit too hard just now. He extends them, offering it to her with a sheepish grin.
"Um... flowers?"
They are her favourite after all.
She all but snatches them from him, scoffing as she did. He is truly hopeless, he thinks. Even the way she rolls her eyes at him is endearing. She puts her arms on her waist, accentuating once again to Ichigo it seems, how tiny she is. Her gaze burns him, making him feel hot and incredibly underdressed in his ratty T-shirt and jeans.
She is unamused, frowning still as she flicks at the flower petals, delicately sniffing at them.
"I'm an idiot," he tells her, rubbing at the back of his neck, "I shouldn't have insulted Byakuya or your taste in desserts or the flower arrangements. I am sorry."
Rukia turns her nose haughtily in the air and for a split second, Ichigo worries that he will have to grovel even more for her forgiveness.
But then, she turns to him with a gleam in her eyes and snorts, "you're such a dork, Ichigo."
She presses the flowers tight against her chest, heaving an exaggerated sigh. "You're lucky that I like that in you."
"S-Shut up!" he grouses as he crosses his arm at his chest, ignoring her sly grin that just seems to grow by the second. His smile is a little too soft for the legendary Ichigo Kurosaki, his hands a little shaky, and if he finds it hard to meet Rukia's gaze without flushing in embarrassment- well, that's no one's business but his own.
If Rukia knew what is going through his mind, he doubts that he will ever hear the end of it- about how he is head-over-heels smitten, irrevocably lovestruck by the sight of her cast in the golden sunlight, wearing a white dress and smiling at him.
It really is happening, he thinks- albeit belatedly and a little dumbly to himself: they really are getting married. He is getting married to Rukia- the shortest division captain that Seireitei has ever seen, a Kuchiki through and through right down to the tips of her dainty little toes- one that has him all figured out and wrapped around her pinky. She is a pain in the neck, a dumbass who can't be trusted to even open a juice box on her own in the Living World to his everlasting dismay and...
And...
And...
And he won't have it any other way.
He is willing to tolerate Byakuya's incessant meddling with their wedding plans a hundred times over; willing to put up with the endless roulettes of dress/suit fittings, cake tastings and everything in between, just to have Rukia standing at the end of the aisle with him, their identical bands of gold sitting snug on their ring fingers, smiling as they look into each other's eyes.
Husband and wife.
In sickness and in health.
Death is merely the beginning.
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Author's note:
Late post. My entry for Ichiruki Wedding Zine.