Feelings will cloud your judgement.
When I see him, it fills me with courage, and I am drowned in joy.
—
Rukia grew up in a tiny village called Inuzuri. It was so far from the urban cities that there was only cellphone reception from one telecommunication company, and even then the call quality and internet speed was dreadful. Of course, being so rural and far from technological advancement, the villagers barely knew what the internet was. They still lived in badly insulated huts with an external toilet that several families had to wait their turn for each morning. It was impossible to completely eliminate the rats and cockroaches, people urinated in the streams and corners of houses, and there was always a lack of food since birth control was unheard of and new families would grow big in no time. But it was a very simple life. Albeit uncomfortable to some extent, but it was all Rukia knew.
Rukia's sister Hisana did not grow up in this village. She had never answered Rukia's inquiries about their past, but Rukia had heard plenty of tales from the middle-aged gossiping aunties. This was a very small village, and people rarely came or left, so everyone remembered that day fifteen years ago when Hisana had appeared out of nowhere. Bruised, battered, holding an infant Rukia in her arms and pea-sized tears in her eyes. She was so young herself, with not a single womanly curve to her, and was definitely not grown enough to raise a child as small as Rukia. This village was poor though, and no family had both the capacity and generosity to take in two extra mouths. Some had suggested splitting them up to be adopted separately, but Hisana had clutched Rukia's small body like a lifeline and refused with eyes like thunder. So Hisana raised her alone, surviving on the kindness of strangers who would become as dear as family. This was a very small village, and people rarely came or left, but once you become part of it, it would always be your home.
Life became easier when Hisana married into the Kuchiki family. She was only sixteen at the time, but she and Byakuya were fated to be and nothing could go against them. Besides, sixteen wasn't young by any standards in this village where women as young as twenty would already have birthed four or five children. Byakuya's family was not affluent by any means either, but at least they had a house and they could sleep on blankets instead of hay. The little Kuchiki hut had seemed infinite to the five-year-old Rukia. She remembered squealing in excitement as she ran around the small indoor space, while Hisana and Byakuya looked on fondly towards her.
Hisana's body was buried in the small plot of land where the Kuchiki family laid their loved ones to rest. She would never be able to answer Rukia now.
"Go to this place," Byakuya said, his dark eyes still shadowed in grief as he handed her a thin envelope decorated with a seal of elegant letters, "Hisana would want you to be there."
And that's why Rukia is currently here! She stands at the gates of Karakura High School, eyes squinting and neck craning as she struggles to see the top of the multistory building. This city has a lot of structures in this form, all sharp angles and smooth walls with clear panes of glass dug into it every so often. Rukia's own apartment has one of these things too, called 'windows'. She was so amazed when she saw it the first time that she walked straight past the uncluttered room and creamy walls, right into it! Everything in this 'city life' looks so new!
Trembling in excitement, she marches towards the ground floor office where she is to report to on her first day. She almost bumps into several people along the way and bows to them in apology by the method described in the manga in her bag. She then continues marching on, oblivious to the looks of puzzlement around her.
The door opens to her three delicate knocks. "Good day," she curtseys, her eyes beaming into a slit, "My name is Kuchiki Rukia. Today is my first day at Karakura High School. I was told to report here?"
"Uh, who are you?"
Rukia's smile fades by a fraction. She opens her eyes wider and sees a young man with outrageously orange hair, the colour of fiery clementines, an insult to the order of society! His eyebrows are knitted so tightly together that his eyes are almost crossed. There is no sign of the word 'relaxed' or 'good morning' or 'I-had-a-smooth-bowel-movement-today' on his face. What a sight!
"I am Kuchiki Rukia," She replies, her expression still sweet and polite. "How may I address you?"
"Kurosaki Ichigo." The man yawns, scratching the back of his orange head as if he has a bad case of head lice. "What are you doing here?"
"I was told to report here," Rukia repeats in the same honeyed tone. If she is a character from the manga-in-her-bag, the veins near her eyebrow will probably be starting to pop. She is definitely not known for having a good temper!
"Here?" Ichigo scoffs, "Open your eyes, you're told to come here?"
Rukia is having trouble keeping her lips upturned. She raises one threaded eyebrow and looks past him. There is a decent-sized space there, although a little cluttered.
"Yes?" She says, looking back at his face.
"This is the broom closet!" Ichigo exclaims, flapping his hand behind him as if there is something visible to him but not to her.
"Oh…" Rukia says. They don't have closets to put brooms in back in her hometown but it seems like brooms are treated quite well here. In fact, past the protruding carrot in her way, she can see that this place is just a tad bigger than her apartment room.
Ichigo sighs, his expression placating as he looks her from up to down. "Are you a middle school student?" He asks tactlessly.
The veins are really popping now. Rukia grits her teeth, fists clenching as she attempts keeping her pleasant facade in place. "No."
"Primary school then? Are you looking for someone? Big brother?" His expression lightens slightly as he fires these insolent questions. "What's your name?"
Rukia's eyes flame up in rage. She snatches his collar and drags his face to her nose and bellows, "MY NAME IS KUCHIKI RUKIA! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO REPEAT MYSELF?! HAVE YOU NO EARS?"
The initial shock in Ichigo's eyes gets quickly replaced by the same blazing fire. "YOU'RE THE ONE THAT'S BOTHERING MY SLEEP! COME ON, YOU WANNA FIGHT!?"
"BRING IT ON!" Rukia cries, sending her free fist into his open scowl with minimal restraint. He grunts as his face is pummeled, then recovers quickly and bashes his forehead against hers like an anvil. She recoils with a yelp of pain, the force of his iron temple sending her slamming into the other side of the hallway. She quickly revives, rising into a boxing position as she prepares to fight this rogue. He troops from the closet into the light of the morning sun and trumpets a war cry, charging towards her with his knuckles raised and head held high.
"STOP!" A roar sounds from the end of the hallway. They both turn to the source of the sound, still held in their positions fueled by the hormone responsible for the 4 F's. A fat middle-aged man in a burgundy tuxedo with a glossy mop of black hair stands at the end. His expression promises pain and repercussion, although his features look like a mouse. After a dramatic pause, he calls, "IN MY OFFICE!"
Rukia and Ichigo look at each other. The right side of Ichigo's mouth is a mess. The skin of his bottom lip is red and broken and the darkened corner of his mouth will soon become a brilliantly purple bruise. Rukia's forehead is a spreading healthy cherry colour, matching the dainty ribbon necktie still fastened at her collar. Rukia bears her teeth like a cheetah and hisses, watching Ichigo's eyebrows furrow further as his raised fist vibrates.
"Hn!" She scoffs, dropping and folding her arms in front of her as she follows the teacher, leaving Ichigo behind in the dust.
Ichigo trails after her, keeping a reasonable distance as he scowls, hands in his pocket. Students in the hallways ogle after them with great interest, but upon meeting Ichigo's incandescent eyes they quickly look away, afraid of violence. Still, they are curious. What kind of person dares to provoke the famous orange-haired delinquent? Although, according to those that knew him in the past, his savagery has mellowed out a lot since middle school. He gets pretty good grades too. It's just, you know, he has that permanently constipated look on his face, with a dash of haemorrhoids perhaps, like something execrable and detestable has gotten underneath his skin, yeah.
"Tell me about the situation," The vice principal says gravely. "What brings you to quarrel so distastefully in the halls SO EARLY IN THE MORNING?!" His voice sopranos like a scale.
"She—"
"I'm sorry, Vice Principal," Rukia sobs, bringing out a handkerchief from her skirt pocket and dabbing her eyes with it. "I should not have participated in such disgraceful and inelegant crime!" She cries, snapping her head up, tears springing from the corners of her eyes like birds setting off to fly.
Ichigo's eyebrow twitches. What is this complete switch in character? Is she an actress or something?
"It-it's okay Kuchiki-san, here, don't cry…" The vice principal hurriedly stands from his chair and rushes to Rukia, placing an awkward hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure there was a reason behind it, it's okay, it's not your fault!" His eyes flash towards Ichigo with suspicion.
'She made the first move,' Ichigo thought, his permanent scowl doing nothing to appease the vice principal. However, being a man of character, he will not make an argument against a little girl.
"Kurosaki, detention for a week!" The Vice Principal commands, pointing a thick index finger at Ichigo's chest.
"What!" Ichigo exclaims in injustice, "She made the first move!" His character shatters.
"I'm sorry!" Rukia weeps some more. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" She buries her face in her eyes and begins wailing.
The vice principal is clearly not equipped to deal with crying girls. He stutters and stumbles, eventually telling them both to go back to class, even forgetting Ichigo's punishment. As soon as the door closes behind them, Rukia's face clears up like the weather and all traces of tears evaporate. She smirks at Ichigo, although she has to tilt her head upwards slightly thanks to their generational height difference.
"Cat got your tongue?" She grins like a Cheshire Cat.
"You…" Ichigo has never met a more infuriating woman! He is lost for words! The vein in his own temple pops and throbs like the main character from the manga-in-her-bag.
"Nice meeting you, Kurosaki." She guffaws, absolutely unladylike as she strides back down the corridor to heaven-knows-where. What a damper on his morning! Ichigo too heads off to his own classroom, not wanting to be late and gifted extra work from the beloved Ochi-sensei. Why is that kid wearing their school's uniform anyway? Must be a cosplayer. Good thing he won't need to see her again. He'd dye his hair black if she gets to him one more time.
Later, when Rukia is introduced as the new transfer student to his class, Ichigo is reminded of how he really, really needs to listen better.
And so marks the start of Ichigo and Rukia's brilliant belligerent adventure.
—
Luckily Ichigo didn't verbalise his hair-dye promise, because if he went through with it, his hair would now be a starless midnight sky.
Rukia is what he would proudly call a devil-in-disguise. On the outside, she is angelic and sweet, with a laugh as dainty as a bell, sitting on her neatly folded legs while she dabs crumbs from her lips with a flowered handkerchief. However, on the other side…
She makes his blood boil like never before! She left an ugly lion seat cushion on his chair that he thought was a peace offering, but when he sat on it, a booming flatulence noise escaped from the area between his backside and the chair. Ichigo's face had flamed like an atomic bomb and tried to explain himself as his surrounding classmates shuffled away from him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her, two seats down, fingers pinching her nose as she stuck out her tongue at him as if to say "ha, take that!" What on earth did he do to deserve this? Sure, he replaced her beloved chappy eraser with a duck one while she wasn't looking, but were they really at the age to be so hung up on stationery? He gave it back in the end, didn't he? Even if he added some masculine decorations on the bunny's face? Even if this was already round three of their retribution battle? This woman sure knows how to hold grudges!
Ichigo chuckles darkly as he thinks about his retaliation. Maybe it's time to turn up the heat and give his all. He didn't want to get serious with a girl, but maybe he had underestimated her. She has now proven herself!
Planning his revenge with vengeance and passion, Ichigo sets off on the way home. Although his expression is daunting to bystanders, he is actually very happy. Only a true battle, with a fitting deserving enemy, can make one feel so alive!
A few days ago, a car crash happened at an intersection where a young girl died on impact. This intersection is on his returning path, a T-intersection where the lower part of the T is so discrete that drivers often do not notice people coming out from it. Ichigo had placed a flower in a bottle next to the closest telephone pole as a tribute to help her pass on to the next life.
There is a group of skateboarders flocking about the intersection. Wearing graphic T-shirts and baggy pants, they joyfully conduct flashy manoeuvres with excessive ranges of movement. Their chortles and gleeful snorts resonate through the air with little grace and control. Well, to each of their own, not his business unless someone disrespects the dead or something heinous like that.
One of them skates past the telephone post and knocks over Ichigo's bottle of one single flower. Ichigo's face darkens, cracking his knuckles as he gets ready to give them a gentle reminder.
However, before he can get too near, a slim white leg shoots from the hidden intersection like a hungry swan's neck, colliding with the offender's face with great fervour. Rukia's small body follows her leg, the force of her power pushing the man face down on the cement floor.
"What the!" The other skateboarders yelp, running to the commotion with their hands raised like unprofessional boxers.
"Leave this place now," Rukia says, lifting her foot from the unfortunate exemplar's face and folding her arms across her chest.
The skateboarders circle her like a pack of dogs. "You suddenly appear and kick over Yama-chan, plus you want us to get out of here?!"
"What are you thinking?"
"You wanna die?"
"HUH!?"
The first skateboarder that spoke, the one wearing a rather knitted looking beanie, rushes towards her with his arms ready to fight. "Say something, you—"
Rukia's leg rises like a crane and drives unforgivingly into Beanie's face as well, pressing him to the ground in a cloud of smoke.
"Aah!"
"Toshirin's down!"
The leftover skateboarders tremble into a bunch, their expressions full of trepidation and sweat.
"D...Don't know what's going on, but this is dan-dangerous!"
"I've never seen such irrational violence…"
"That chick's definitely one of those… If we fight her, we'll be killed for sure…!"
"Shut up already!" Rukia roars as she stomps her long leg upon another skateboarder, arms still folded. "All of you guys look over there!"
She points at the telephone pole where Ichigo had left the bottle. It lies pitifully and horizontally, the neck chipped, water spilling out and darkening the cement.
"QUESTION 1!" Rukia bellows, her voice sending the remaining upright skateboarders shivering into spring onions. "What the heck can that be?! You there, the stinky looking one!"
"M-me?" The stinky looking one answers, "U...umm...an offering to the kid who died here recently…"
"Great answer!" Rukia approves while her beautiful leg impacts with his chin and sends him tumbling onto his back.
"QUESTION 2!" "Micchan!" "You okay, Micchan!?"
"Then why is the vase...knocked over?" She glances at them with eyes shadowed by the shade of her hair, arms still folded, a deadly glint sending chills down their spines.
"Th...that's…"
"That's cuz we knocked it over… skateboarding…?"
"I see…" Rukia says, unfolding her arms as she slowly points behind her at the telephone pole. "THEN SHOULDN'T YOU APOLOGISE TO HER?!"
"KYAAAAAAAAA!"
"I'M SORRY I'M SORRY!"
"I'M SORRY! I WON'T DO IT ANYMORE! I'M SORRYYYYY!"
The delinquents lift their fallen comrades onto their shoulders and bolt like squirrels. Rukia claps away the imaginary dust and relaxes her arms beside her body. "Hurry up and go to heaven, kid that I can't see."
What a well-said speech! Ichigo couldn't have said it better himself! This girl has got spirit!
Ichigo postpones his revenge. The next day, he sneaks a few extra glances at her in class, watching her hands fly as she copies notes from the blackboard. Her head flips up and down as she switches between reading and writing, concentration evident in the slight crease between her brows. She's the same amount of hardworking in every subject. Even science, which she seems incredibly confused at given the blankness of her expression every time the teacher speaks. However, she doesn't ask for handouts, never participating in the morning rush of homework borrowing Ichigo even participated in once or twice himself. Ichigo respects that. Hard work, dignity, honesty. He respects her.
He has a list of things to buy from the grocery store today, a twice-weekly duty that his dad insists everyone in the family has to participate in. As he picks from the stand of vegetables, a small figure bumps into him.
"Sorry," a familiar voice says, so much shorter than him that he could almost see the entire top surface of the supermarket staff cap on her head.
"Rukia?" Ichigo says as Rukia looks up from beneath her cap.
"Ichigo?" She answers back.
"You work here?" Ichigo asks. School had just finished not long ago. How did she get here so fast?
"Just the evening shift." Rukia replies. What does she mean, just the evening shift? Is there any other shift that students can work without skipping school?
"Oh," Ichigo says intelligently. "Okay."
"Well, see you later," Rukia finishes loading fruit into the stand and gets ready to push her trolley away.
"Wait!" Ichigo calls.
Rukia turns back to him in question, "What?" She does not look irritated, only curious.
Ichigo is at a loss of words. Precisely, what indeed? He doesn't really want it going around that he's the type to place flower offerings for deceased children. It's not that he's embarrassed about it, it's just that the parents might think of him as a pervert. It's not something to boast about either.
"I saw you with those skateboarders yesterday." He begins.
"Oh? What do you have to say about it?" She takes her hands off the trolley and turns to face him directly.
"..."
"Oh, was it you that left the offering there?" How did she guess!?
"What if it was me?" Ichigo answers back, ready to defend himself.
"Hmm, you're actually a pretty sensitive chap, aren't you?"
A smirk decorates her lips. It is not taunting, only amused, even pleasantly so. "What's wrong Ichigo, not willing to own up?"
"No, just surprised about you," He replies, trying to read her.
"We stand in awe before what we cannot see, and respect everything that cannot be explained."
"I don't believe in invisible things."
"Is that so. I guess you and I are quite different then." She says, resting her elbow on the handle of the trolley. "Why did you do that then? Can you see ghosts?"
"Ghosts don't exist. That kid was alive once. It's for the sake of the family, will be good to know that someone remembers their kid."
"Do you know her personally?"
"Seen her play there a few times."
"Interesting," She says, looking him in the eye, "I think I'm getting to know you better."
"Same here," Ichigo replies, not backing down as he stares her back. She's one of the few strangers not wary of him, refusing to relent despite his harsh facial expression and unbending stubbornness. She treats him like any other person, maybe even worse actually, and never tries to avoid him or butter him up.
"Well, see you around, Ichigo," She smiles, breaking their optic battle as she wheels her trolley away.
That night, Rukia dreams of walking with Ichigo in the rain, under a large, black umbrella. She wakes up dazed, wondering about the meaning of the dream and why it makes her chest strangely tight.
—
"I just don't get physics!" Michiru moans, burying her head in her arms after seeing the vivid, red, lowly number on her test paper.
"I don't get it either!" Keigo cries, waving his test paper as if he has nothing left to lose anymore. The number on there is a solid grade boundary lower than Michiru's mark.
"Neither do I…" Mahana laments, flashing her even lower mark. "What did you get, Kuchiki-san?" She asks, peering over Rukia's shoulder without her usual energy. What she sees, however, makes her gape like a goldfish.
"...What?" Rukia asks, her mark on full display as she organises her stationery.
"Kuchiki-san... " Michiru, who has come to get a look for herself, says, voice full of pity.
"Isn't it good to get number one?" Rukia picks up her test paper and points to the single-digit number.
"...Let's form a study group to strengthen our bonds! Hey, Ichigo!" Keigo calls, waving his arms in desperation. "You're good at science, come teach us!"
"Why do I have to teach you?"
"Come on, be a good friend Ichigo~~~" Keigo begs, reaching for Ichigo's paper and getting his wandering arm hit by a strong karate chop. "OW! That hurt, Ichigo! You cruel person!"
"Shut up." Ichigo grumbles, folding his test paper and putting it in his bag. "Go study by yourself."
"Even Kuchiki-san is joining! Come on, friends have to help each other in times of need!"
Ichigo mutters something under his breath before sighing and giving one stiff nod. Keigo cheers and flies off to announce this to the rest of the class. And so, a spontaneous lunchtime study group is formed on the rooftop!
"I don't get it." Chizuru pouts, lying flat on her stomach as she flips through the textbook. "What's this millimetre of mercury business? Why can't it just start from one? I don't get it at all!"
"Isn't that because of the atmospheric pressure?" Michiru points out, doodling in her own book.
"What's that?" Keigo groans, "The pressure you feel in a test?"
"It's the pressure of earth's atmosphere," Mizuiro sighs. "It's the pressure on a surface from the air above as the object is pulled to Earth by gravity."
"You're so smart Mizuiro! Wait, how does that work?"
"It's because gravity pulls the gases in the atmosphere towards Earth's surface." Chad says quietly, his sudden participation making Keigo jump.
"I thought pressure is force over area? What's this mercury stuff then?" Mahana moans. "This isn't chemistry!"
"Atmospheric pressure is equivalent to 101 kilopascals which is the same as 760 millimetres of mercury." Kaori chirps, her glasses marking her as one of the teachers rather than laggers of this impromptu gathering.
"How does that even work?"
"One millimetre of mercury is the pressure of a column of mercury one millimetre high." Ryo adds, flipping her long black hair behind her back. "So atmospheric pressure is pretty heavy considering mercury is 13.6 times as dense as water."
"Wow…" "Woah…" "I guess this air is 760x13.6 times as heavy as water…" "I don't think that's right…"
"Why does it not crush us if it's so heavy?" Rukia asks curiously.
"Dunno, maybe because we grew up in it." Ichigo says.
He sits cross-legged, aggressively biting a cucumber that Yuzu had packed for him for lunch. Given the deep trench between his eyebrows, he probably doesn't even like cucumber, but also doesn't want to waste food or disappoint his little sister. Rukia snickers, hiding it as a cough when his head snaps up to glare at her.
"Are you okay, Kuchiki-san? Here, have some juice!" Chizuru passes a box of juice to Rukia who takes it and holds it with both reverence and caution. She examines it, prods it, and squeezes it, but can't seem to figure out how to drink it.
Ichigo sighs again, feeling suffering on her behalf. "Here," he holds his hand out, gesturing for her to give him the juice pack. "You put the straw in here." He takes the straw and stabs it through the silver foil, then holds the juice pack out to her.
Rukia takes the juice pack with a small 'I thank thou'. Ichigo snorts, keeping in character indeed.
The juice is sweet and sour, something that Rukia has never tasted before. It is cold yet flavourful, unlike the numbing nothingness of snow. She unconsciously sits straighter, every fibre of her being alerting to savour each gulp of liquid happiness in her mouth. She peeks at Ichigo who is still attacking the cucumber with his grumpy mug.
That night, Rukia dreams of Ichigo again. She doesn't remember what happens in the dream, but it leaves her heart feeling light and her mind full of his name. She's really been seeing too much of him lately.
—
"Oi, Rukia," Ichigo throws a pellet of scrunched paper at the girl sleeping on the desk behind his.
"Hmm?" Rukia hums drowsily, head ascending briefly before descending back down into her circle of arms.
This kid has been sleeping too consistently in class lately! Despite their chaotic beginning, Ichigo has grown used to her. Being a man of character, he extends his spine and sits tall, hiding her napping figure from the seeking eyes of Ochi-sensei. There is a limit to how long he can do it for though! He's going to get a back injury at this rate! It's been a week now, this is just ridiculous!
He only has a chance to glower at her at break time. There are shadows under her eyes and her face looks thinner than usual as if she's been studying the laws of physics too hard. Ichigo's eyes soften. Maybe he ought to give her some slack. He is, after all, a man of character.
"Ichigo!" Keigo bounces to him at the end of the day as he packs his bag. "Remember our yakiniku date tonight!"
"Don't be disgusting, who's gonna go date you?"
"Ahhh Mizuiro!" Keigo cries, catching onto the unfortunate Mizuiro and hanging off him like a koala. "Ichigo has become so cold!
"Get off me, Keigo," Mizuiro says coldly, before turning 180 degrees and smiling at a group of girls. "See you all there, ladies~"
"I'm off, see you guys later," Ichigo waves as Keigo reaches fruitlessly for his advancing back.
Today is his turn to buy groceries again. As he approaches the shop, he sees Rukia's small figure topping up trays with several cartons of vegetables. How does she get here so fast every time?
"Oi, Rukia," He calls out. Rukia turns in the direction of the sound and gives a small wave, then turns back to her work. Ichigo strolls towards her.
"You doing anything tonight?" He asks, leaning on the side of the trays. "Wanna come yakiniku with everyone?"
"Yakiniku, huh," She muses, unstopping in her movement. She is really quite efficient at this, the tray that was almost empty a moment ago is now almost full! "Not really."
"Come out with everyone from time to time," Ichigo says, eyes following her movements nonchalantly. "Don't be a lone wolf."
"Maybe next time," She says without fire. That's strange, normally she rebukes any slight insult with an insult ten times the potency. Slightly taken aback, Ichigo looks at her with mild concern.
"You— "
"I'm busy, Ichigo." Her eyes focus on him, a slight irritation in the large purple orbs. "I'll see you tomorrow."
She wheels her trolley of empty cartons away before he can say anything else. He looks back down and finds all the trays are topped up. While he hasn't been watching, she has even selected a few shiny, firm cucumbers and bagged them for him. He sighs, picking up the bag and continuing his shopping.
The yakiniku party that night is a great success. It seems like half the class is there, loud and cheerful and full of colour. Keigo brings out the alcohol he sneaked in and underaged drinking touches everyone, filling the warm room with drunken laughter and crazy antics. Ichigo's mood is incredibly high as he leaves the Yakiniku restaurant, no frustration in any of his limbs even as he peels the drunken Keigo off his arm for the third time on his way to drop him home.
Keigo's house is quite a distance away from his own. Ichigo has also had his fair share of alcohol and his mouth is currently feeling quite dry. He heads to the nearest convenience store, wanting to buy a bottle of water. On his way, he passes a small Izakaya with dimming lights. Even the miserable businessmen, who come straight after overtime to have a dreary drink or five, have mostly gone home. A small girl in an apron pushes past the bamboo blinds with several large bags in her hands and turns a corner. The owner's daughter helping out in the shop, perhaps.
Ichigo's stomach lurches out of nowhere. He gags and scans his surroundings in distress, seeking somewhere socially acceptable to release his stomach contents. He finds a dumpster and empties it there, not noticing the small feet standing a few meters away from him.
"Ichigo?" He hears someone calling his name.
He raises his head weakly in the direction of the voice. When their gazes connect, his eyes widen.
"Rukia?" He croaks, "What are you doing here?"
She wears a black apron over a white yukata, a strangely stylish combination if not for the rubbish bags in her hands. Oh, so it isn't the owner's daughter.
"You look like a mess," she laughs, a gentle sound in the quiet night where the only other noise is the black cat padding down the alley.
Ichigo feels his clammy face and neck heat up. How mortifying! He hasn't thrown up in front of a human since he was in kindergarten!
"You're chucking up on my boss' territory," She sniggers, eyes full of amusement.
"You work here? Aren't you working at the supermarket today?"
"That was evening shift. This is night shift." So there is indeed another shift that high school students can work without skipping school! Wait, is that even sustainable?
"You work both?"
"Only on weekdays. On weekends I work the day shift too."
That's just ridiculous, how do you even find time to sleep? No wonder you've been all hollow all week.
"Oh, you noticed?" Rukia chuckles. Ichigo's face warms further at the realisation that his thoughts have exited through his mouth. Alcohol is really good at loosening that end indeed. Maybe he won't touch that stuff in the future.
"Why do you work so much?" He wonders aloud.
"It's expensive living in Karakura City, you know," Rukia replied, leisurely laziness to her shape as she puts down her bags of garbage.
"You're here alone?"
"Yeah."
"What about your family?"
"They're back home."
"Where's 'home'?"
"You probably don't know where it is."
"What is it?"
"Inuzuri."
"Where's that?"
"You're really slow sometimes, you know?"
Ichigo pauses in his next question and glances up at her. There is an uncharacteristic quietness to her, almost melancholic in a way. Her eyes are large and black in the darkness of the night, like a secret, a new moon. Despite the dim light, her eyes seem to be wider, brighter, even though she doesn't have to open them so much right now.
"When do you get off work? I'll walk you home." Ichigo says, unpersuadable decision in his tone.
"If you so kindly insist," Rukia says, tossing her multiple garbage bags into the dumpster. "I'm finishing now. You can wait for me over there." She points in a direction behind her. "Unless...you want to stay here?" She glances at his wobbly leaning to the wall.
"I'll wait for you out there." He replies, moving his weight onto his feet and unsteadily walking past her, the back of his neck a strawberry red.
True to his word, he waits patiently for her outside the shop. They walk together in the quiet summer night, only their footsteps talking to each other. The moon is a small sliver today, its smile at its widest time of the month as it watches over their silence. The trees on the way home murmur to each other too, observing the pair with inquisitive interest. The world was waiting for the-one to make the first move.
"We're here," Rukia announces as they come to a stop in front of a small shed. "Thanks for accompanying me."
"It's fine," Ichigo scratches the back of his head since his hands feel too unoccupied otherwise. "Where do you live? I'll see you to your door."
"I'm right here." She points at the shed. "See you tomorrow."
"Here?" Ichigo considers the place. It certainly cannot be called a house. At most, it's a room for someone's gardening tools. "You live here?"
"Something wrong with that?" Rukia's eyes flash in warning as she rummages her bag for her keys.
"How much do you pay for this?"
"What, you looking down on poor people? I'll tell you—"
"Answer the question, Rukia."
Rukia stills, turning to face Ichigo with stern eyes. "Five hundred a week. Anything wrong with that, Ichigo?"
Ichigo's face is dark as he asks, "Who's your landlord?"
"His name is Aizen," Rukia answers, her voice a touch brighter as she discusses the person in question. "He's a kind man, offering me this place when I couldn't find anywhere else. He was even generous enough to give me a discount on my deposit."
"Rukia, this place is not worth five hundred a week. It's barely big enough to fit a bed. You might as well sleep in my closet."
Rukia's eyes blaze. Without warning, she stomps on Ichigo's foot with minimal restraint. He yelps in pain and indignation. "What was that for!"
"Ichigo, is this how you treat people who are poor?" She says. This time, Ichigo catches disappointment and sadness in her dark eyes before they narrow and turn away from him. She turns away from him. Her whole body turns away from him, leaving him looking at her small yet strong-looking back.
"No, Rukia, that's not what I meant." He scrambles. "Aizen is a thief. You shouldn't be paying this much for someone's garden shed." He grabs her shoulders and turns her around to face him, the alcohol in his body making his mouth babble in a fashion unlike his daytime self. "You can crash at my house. We can set up a spare bed in my sisters' room. My dad will accept rent if you insist. It's closer to school than here too—"
"Ichigo," she says.
"W-what?" Ichigo stutters.
She raises her head and looks into his eyes. Big, round, wet-looking orbs like marbles in a fish tank. He stares back, clueless to act. After a lingering second, she looks down, away, shrugs his hands off gently and takes a step back.
"I have a fiancée."
That night, Rukia dreams of sitting at a window with a balcony. Ichigo stands beneath it, wearing the same non-school uniform. Their hands reach towards each other, linking.
Rukia wakes with a longing ache in her heart.
To be continued :D