Disclaimer: If I owned them, I wouldn't be posting this here, would I?

Chapter 5

Tell the Truth and then Run

"Rukia."

She opens her eyes.

"Rukia. Time to get up."

"I heard you the first time, Ichigo." She can't see anything in the dark room. This is probably a good thing, as her head threatens to begin pounding at any moment. She takes her time sitting up.

She can hear Ichigo moving, and as her eyes adjust, she spots his hair and the line of his cheek in the faint light that creeps in under the door and through a crack in the curtains. His eyes are in shadow.

"Does the light hurt your head?" she asks.

"Huh?" His head tips up like he's looking at her. She wonders for a moment if he can see better in this darkness than she – but that is ridiculous. "Oh. Who knows? Probably. Why, you want the light on?"

"I would like to be able to see," she says, voice dry, "but I would rather avoid a headache. Just open the curtains a bit."

"Avoid a headache," she hears him mumble as light begins to flow in. "That's an idea." Now she sees that he is standing beside his bed, rummaging in the duffel bag that sits at the foot.

"I'm surprised," she says, as she stands carefully and arches to stretch her back. Every night, it seems to her, this body invents a new way to kink up. She rolls a shoulder. "I had expected to be up well before you this morning. I was sure your hangover would be worse than mine."

Amusement cracks through his scowl. "You don't remember?"

"Remember what?"

"The wake-up call. You said you'd be up momentarily and I should worry about dragging my own ass out of bed. Then you rolled over and went back to sleep."

"Your 'own ass'?"

He actually grins. "Now I've heard you use that phrase twice in one morning. Maybe you're not hungover 'cause you're still drunk."

"I certainly am not." She folds her arms and looks around for her clothing. Her dress is on the small table on the other side of the room. She crosses to it slowly and picks it up to shake it out. It hangs from her hands, limp and creased, oddly stretched in places, and dull in the grey light. Rukia suppresses a sigh and an older, stranger feeling. It has been a long time since she's had to wear the same—

"Gimme that."

Clutching the shirt to her breast is an automatic reflex. "Excuse me?" she says, turning to glare over her shoulder.

"The dress? Hand it over so I can put it away."

"I do not have anything else to wear, you moro— Hey!" He's thrown something at her; she shakes her head and it slides off her hair and onto her outstretched arms. A dress. Yellow and pink, and clean. Yuzu's.

The old dress falls from her hands. "Ichigo…"

"Stupid," he says. He drops the bag on the table and bends down to scoop up the dress on the floor. "I'm gonna go get us checked out. You –" he points at her, dress in hand, then stuffs it in his bag, "—change. We'll meet at the dining hall."

She nods. "All right." She's still staring at the dress he brought for her, running the soft fabric between her fingers.

As he opens the door she turns. "Ichigo!"

"Yeah?"

"I do not suppose you thought to pack any of my undergarments?"

In the daylight streaming through the doorway, his flush is pink and bright. "Shut up and get dressed!"

Rukia smiles as he slams the door.

The dining room is almost empty. Those few diners who remain sit at one of the back tables, sipping tea and talking in low voices.

Ichigo hovers in the doorway at first, expecting to see Rukia coming down the hall any second. She doesn't appear, though, so after a while he turns into the room and kneels down at the first empty table. He drops too fast and his head spins, but since he's sitting now it doesn't make much difference. He shuts his eyes and rests his chin in his hand, resisting the urge to just lay his head on the table, and waits.

What is she doing in there? How long does it take to put on a dress? Maybe he shouldn't have packed the stupid thing. Things.

Some very nearby – as in, right in front of his face – clacking and clicking slowly vibrates through his brain. Ichigo opens his eyes to find Rukia sitting across from him, helping herself to bits of food from the dishes in the middle of the table. There's a plate by his elbow; she's been portioning bread and rice and natto out to him, too.

He does some groggy blinking. "How long have you been sitting there?"

She raises her eyes, but keeps scooping rice onto her plate. "A minute or two."

"Oh. Good." He rubs his hand over his face.

She raises an eyebrow. "How is your head?"

"Fine." It feels like an elephant is using his skull for a trampoline.

"Have something to eat," she says, tapping his plate with her chopsticks. "It will help."

Before Ichigo can tell Rukia he's just fantastic this morning, thanks, and/or swear he'll never drink again, a voice above him says, "Hangover?" He looks up, squinting automatically even though the light over his head is no brighter than it is anywhere else in the room. It's the guy from the bath yesterday.

"Good morning, uh, Grandfather," he says. He's pretty sure he was supposed to remember this guy's name, but why is kind of escaping him. Maybe he'll remember when the pounding stops.

"Good morning," the man says, nodding, and maybe smiling a little. "Do you mind if I join you?" There is a definite twinkle in his eye. Ichigo resents twinkling even more than usual right now.

Naturally, Rukia sparkles at the guy. "We would be honored by your company!" Bitch. Ichigo just makes a grumpy grunting noise. They'll both interpret it as assent anyway.

Sure enough, Guy Whose Name Ichigo Can't Remember settles on the cushion next to Rukia.

"Did you two sleep well?" Guy-san asks, managing to wink at Ichigo while coolly slurping his miso soup.

"Yeah, thanks," Ichigo says around a mouthful of rice, pretending obliviousness to the wink and the implied eyebrow-waggling. He focuses on his natto, because he's suddenly remembering how Rukia recognized the girlfriend sign when that sleazy dude made it at them last night, and he doesn't want to look over and find out she's amused by this, too. Hopefully, she'll think he's hungover enough – or stupid enough – that she'll be willing to believe that Whatshisname's little hints are just going right over Ichigo's head.

"You kids moving on this morning?"

"We might wander around town for a little while," Ichigo lies, before Rukia can say anything that might give them away. "Uncle expects us this afternoon."

"Oh, visiting family," the old guy says. "That's nice. Not many young people spending enough time with their families these days."

Ichigo finds it difficult to swallow. He stares at his plate and focuses on making his throat work again; he can't speak.

"There is never enough time to spend," Rukia says softly.

There's a heavy pause, filled only by the soft clinking of cups on the other side of the room. Ichigo stuffs some food in his mouth and chews without tasting it.

"Aa," the old guy says finally.

Ichigo glances at Rukia. She's pushing rice around in a slow circle on her plate, staring at it intensely and obviously not seeing it at all.

Ichigo and Rukia step outside under an overcast sky; in the dull grey light, it feels like early morning. It is nearly noon.

They walk north in silence, following the curve of the road out of town, past low, old buildings, then wheat fields, and row after row of rice paddies. Sometimes they can see the ocean in the distance.

He's been walking along in a kind of half-asleep state, not really seeing anything, when a bird darts across the road, close enough that Ichigo can hear the beat of its wings, and all of a sudden he's fully awake, and he remembers. "So," he says, before he can stops and think about whether he really wants to bring this up.

"Yes?" Rukia prompts when Ichigo hesitates.

"Uh, so," he says again, talking sort of in the direction of the road ahead because the weight of the duffel bag is pulling on his neck. "I had another weird dream last night."

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Rukia stiffen. "You should not be surprised. It was probably alcohol-induced."

"Funny thing," he answers slowly. "Alcohol is a REM-suppressant."

Little glitter spots are floating around in his vision now from straining to look out of the corners of his eyes for too long. Not like he needs to see Rukia to know she's glaring at him anyway. He can hear it in her voice. "I do not know what that means," she snaps, "but I suspect it is not funny at all."

Ichigo blinks at the lines on the road. "It means alcohol isn't opium. It doesn't give you weird dreams, it stops you from dreaming."

"Ichigo, you just said—"

"Which is why I'm thinking maybe it wasn't a dream at all."

"…what do you mean?"

"Got another visit from my buddy, the polar bear. 'Cept it was an owl and a wolf and a—a white weasel-marten-ferret thing." He knows he knows what that stupid thing is called!

"I see."

"Rukia!" It would be really helpful to be able to turn his head right now. He actually considers dropping the bag and refusing to walk another step until she tells him everything.

"Ichigo…"

"Rukia," he tries again, calm, calm, "you told me this was an 'aspect' of your power. Like it's the weird-dream-having side of being shinigami. But the, the thing said it is your power. All of it. And it told me… to ask you about some things. But I know you can still heal and stuff, so I don't know if it was even telling the truth. But it's SOMETHING and you know what it is and I would really like to know what the hell is going on!" Now he does stop walking, and turns his whole body sideways so he can look at her.

She closes her eyes and rubs her face with both hands. The bandages on them, now yellowed and fraying at the edges, give him a twinge of guilt, again, which he shoves away onto the growing pile.

"She," Rukia says.

"Huh?"

"What you have seen… is not an 'it.' She is a she. Her name—" Rukia pauses, takes a shaky breath. She doesn't look at Ichigo. He doesn't think she's really looking at anything. "Her name is Sodeno Shirayuki. She is my zanpakutou."

"I don't get it."

Rukia smiles wryly. "Of course you don't," she says. She has become used to his inability to process the logic of even her plainest explanations, and this is a complicated matter. Though she does feel she simplified it for him quite neatly. Shinigami do not give our zanpakutou names, we learn their names from the zanpakutou themselves.

Ichigo has been wearing the same angrily baffled expression since she first began to explain."You're saying… and, I guess, what the wolf – the she – was trying to make me figure out, is that those shinigami we fought didn't just name their swords because they're sentimental weirdos. Your zanpakutou are… alive?"

"Not in the sense that you are alive, but sentient, yes."

"But that doesn't make any sense!" Just when she'd begun to hope they were making progress.

She might roll her eyes, if she were less tired, and less afraid of what Ichigo will think or do when he does understand. "A shinigami's zanpakutou does many things an ordinary blade could not," she says. "You have seen only the barest hint of those capabilities."

"But what does that have to do with them having freaking personalities? What's the point of my sword harassing me in my sleep?!"

"Every shinigami's zanpakutou is unique. Its exact capabilities are determined by its shape and nature. And…" How can she explain this to him? How tell him that he is wielding not just her power in an abstract sense, but her own partner, a piece of her very soul?

"…and?" His expression is confused, but open. Expectant.

"Nevermind. Some aspects of the relationship between shinigami and zanpakutou cannot be taught." Not with the blade of someone else's soul, anyway.

Ichigo shifts the duffle bag around, swinging it onto his other shoulder. Again.

"Let me carry it awhile," Rukia says. Her voice is loud in her own ears, out-of-place in the tranquil landscape.

Ichigo glares at her from the corner of his eye, as if to say she's not even worth the effort of turning his head. "You have a bag."

"Just give it to me, idiot!"

He blinks, and when his eyes open again he is no longer looking in her direction. "No."

She stops walking, willing him to face her. He doesn't. "Ichigo."

"Shut up! The stupid bag's as big as you are. I got it."

"It is n— Ichigo. My clothes are in there as well, and I assure you this gigai is sufficiently strong that the weight of the bag will be less annoying than watching you squirm with it every five minutes because your shoulders are cramping!"

For a moment he just glares at the road ahead of them, eyebrow twitching. Then, abruptly, he swings the bag down and shoves it at her. She catches it with an "oomph!"

"You may carry my backpack, if you wish," she says coolly as she sets the duffel bag on the ground to rearrange her grip.

"Your—! …fine." He sticks his hand out in front of her face.

Rukia swings her pack off and places the strap in Ichigo's hand. She swings the duffel bag up, separating the two handles Ichigo had had bundled together, and using them as shoulder straps. Then she smiles.

Ichigo mutters something under his breath. She suspects it is "bitch." She smiles wider.

There's no strain in Rukia's expression – there's no anything in Rukia's expression – but Ichigo can see sweat beading along her hairline. The afternoon is still cool. "Enough of this," he says.

She looks up at him, one eyebrow delicately raised. "Hmm?"

"We're getting a ride." He shrugs her backpack up onto one shoulder and shoves his free hand into his pocket. Trademark stubborn stance.

Rukia gets a real expression on her face at last, a suspicious kind of confusion, as she looks up and down the empty street, then back at Ichigo. "A ride on what?"

"…In a car."

"You can get a car? Why didn't you do that before?!"

"Get – we are going to hitch a ride, stupid! How would I get a car? Steal one?"

Rukia shrugs, or tries to; mid-shrug, she takes one sharp step back, obviously overbalanced by the duffel.

Ichigo thinks about starting another fight to take it back from her, but his shoulders really are aching. Plus it's pretty funny the way, once she's caught her balance, she whips her head up to glare at him, obviously expecting him to say something. She practically stumbles again when she finds him looking down the road, unconcerned with her and her struggles between the bag and gravity. She wanted to carry the stupid thing, after all.

"Next time you hear a car coming," he says, "stick out your thumb."

It takes another forty minutes or so, four cars speeding by them, two with horns blaring, before someone stops. Someone going in the right direction, even. Ichigo had just been starting to wonder if telling Rukia to show a little leg would be worth the risk to his life, and he breathes a sigh of relief at not having to make the choice.

It's a young guy in a shiny blue sports car with an excessively high spoiler. The car whips by them at first, closer than is really comfortable, then, as the wind of its passing is still in their hair, it squeals to a stop just before the next bend in the road.

"Let me do the talking," Ichigo says as the car reverses down the road toward them.

"I heard you the first time, Ichigo," Rukia snaps.

"But will you listen," he mutters under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing."

The car pulls up beside them, windows already rolled down. The driver is a young man, no more than a few years older than Ichigo. "Hey," he says.

"Hey," Ichigo responds. This is a great start.

"You guys looking for a lift?"

"Yeah," Ichigo says.

"North?"

"Yeah."

The driver leans over and opens the passenger-side door. "Hop in, then," he says, and smiles up at Rukia. "I hate to see a lady left alone with a man who won't even carry the bags."

Ichigo bristles. "OI," he starts, and then stops, because they need the damn ride and it's none of this punk's business anyway. Rukia won't be—

"Oh my, thank you so much!" Rukia giggles, holding a delicate hand over her mouth and beaming. "I'm so glad such a gentleman is the one who stopped for us!"

Ichigo grinds his teeth. They need the ride.

They really, really need the ride.

Rukia is more exhausted after ten minutes of sitting in this car than she was while they were walking. Before they got in, she could and would have gone on walking, but now she is not at all certain she would be able to stand, let alone run, if they needed to get out of the car suddenly. She would like to close her eyes and focus on replenishing her energy, but that is not possible at the moment.

Kawamura won't stop talking.

"So I had to completely rebuild the engine," he says, "but it was worth it, because the next time I met that Sasaki I left him in the dust. I wish I could have seen his face, I bet it was so great." He laughs.

Rukia stares out the window, too tired to keep feigning interest.

"What do you think is the best type of car, Sato-san?"

"Sato can't tell a Honda from a horse and carriage," Ichigo growls.

Kawamura glares into the mirror suspended over the middle of the windshield. "What's wrong with you? You shouldn't talk about a lady like that, man. Sato-san might decide she doesn't want to run away with you after all."

Rukia feels Ichigo's reiatsu flare, and looks over her shoulder in alarm, trying to tell him to keep himself under control, but he isn't looking at her – he, too, is glaring into that stupid mirror. He opens his mouth.

"Please, Kawamura-kun," she says, waving a hand and knowing that she sounds more pathetic than easygoing and cheerful, "Tanaka-kun is just grumpy because his legs are too long. He doesn't mean anything. And it's true I don't know anything about cars."

Kawamura doesn't seem to notice how weak her smile is. "I could teach you," he says.

"Between here and Sabiru?" Ichigo snaps.

Kawamura glares into the mirror and presses his lips together.

Rukia waits for Ichigo to do something foolish, but when he remains still and silent in the back seat, she turns her head to look out the window at the country flashing past. Seventy kilometers, Ichigo had said. She wonders how long a kilometer is, and how many they have covered so far.

Ichigo falls asleep in the car. Glaring at the back of Kawamura's head gave him a headache – well, kind of made the headache he already had migrate from the back of his head to his temples, actually – and after a few minutes, it just wasn't worth it. That didn't mean he was ready to let his guard down, but he figured it wouldn't hurt to lean his head back for a minute…

He wakes up when the feeling of the road changes, when the car starts bumping and bouncing, and the sound of the wheels on the pavement grows louder than the wind.

He looks out the window beside him first, and there's the shoreline; the wind-tossed ocean is a dark, forbidding grey. Scattered here and there are shanty houses nearly as grey as the sea.

Ichigo turns his attention to the inside of the car, shoving his knee against the back of Rukia's seat to see if she's up.

When his knees are smashed up against his chest a moment later by the sudden backward thrust of her seat, he knows that she is. "Oi," he says.

"I'm so sorry, Tanaka-kun," she says, "my hand must have slipped."

"Uh-huh." A snicker from the driver's seat stops him from adding "bitch." He glares at the rearview mirror, but Kabamura (or whatever) isn't looking back at him. "Just fix it. Sato-chan."

Kawamunta leans across the center console toward Rukia, and says something in a low voice – Ichigo just catches something about "could have said please."

"How much farther are we from Sabiru, Kawamura-kun?" is Rukia's only reply. Her seat slides forward, and Ichigo lowers his legs with a thump.

"That's it up ahead."

Ichigo leans over the shoulder of Rukia's seat to look out the front windshield. There are more houses here, bigger and less run-down; what's more, along up the coast, maybe a mile away now, are actual buildings, the kind with multiple stories and glass windows and cars parked nearby. A long jetty stretches out into the water from somewhere inside the area where the buildings are clustered.

As they get closer, Ichigo can see people moving about, walking to and from the beach, or along it, or standing to talk to the vendors in the food stalls.

He feels Rukia's weight shift through the seat under his arm, and looks down at her. She glances up at him, then looks back out toward Sabiru, her face set with some kind of idiotic stubbornness. He wonders what she's thinking about – what the sight of the little shore town makes her think of… or remember.

"It looks nice," she says.

Kawamura parks the car right up against the sidewalk. "You know, Sato-san," he smirks, "if you'd rather go with someone nicer than this guy… or—" as he looks at her, Kawamura's expression turns almost solemn, "If he ever, you know, if you don't feel entirely safe with—"

"Thank you for the 'lift', Kawamura-kun," Rukia says, pulling the tab she had identified earlier as the door-opening device. The window rolls down. She glares at the door, feeling not just the usual frustration with ridiculous human things, but also an uneasy need to be out of the car now that makes her consider blasting it open with kidou, though she knows how foolish that would be.

From the backseat Ichigo's hand appears, slipping between the door and her seat to pull a small handle embedded in the door. There is a small clunking noise and the door opens. Rukia scrambles out immediately.

She stands on the sidewalk and closes her eyes. The salt wind tosses her hair and dress.

Something thumps and bumps behind her, and she turns as Ichigo says, "Hey, little help here? Grab a bag, Ru—Sato." He shoves her backpack into her arms as he squeezes past the folded-forward front seat and climbs out of the car. As soon as he's out, he turns around and reaches back in for the duffel bag.

Kawamura is out of the car as well, leaning on his door. He looks at her over the roof of the car. "I'm serious, Sato-san. At least let me give you my number, in case…"

"No, thank you, Kawamura-kun." She looks at Ichigo's backside, sticking out of the car as he tugs on the bag in the backseat. "He will not hurt me. There is no need to concern yourself. Please accept our thanks for your help." She hesitates, thinking of proud, indifferent eyes and a perfectly straight spine, then squeezes her backpack against her chest and bows.

Ichigo pops out of the car and lands on his ass. He has the duffel bag in his arms.

Kawamura nods once and gets back into the car.

When he is gone, Ichigo looks up at the nearest building and sticks out his chin and lower lip in the way that means he is preparing to do something idiotic. Rukia frowns. Ichigo looks up at her. "Ready for what comes next?"

"Of course."

He stands. "Come on, then."

END PART ONE
TBC