Reason Enough

Ch. 1

"Ichigo, look!"

A piece of brightly-coloured paper was immediately dangled in front of the orange-haired teen by a small hand. Well, maybe "dangled" wasn't a strong enough word. "Forcefully placed with lighting speed" came to mind as one eyebrow raised slightly as he read the writing on the sheet. It was a flier, the sort that clubs and the like tended to post all around the campus to promote whatever inane activity they were doing at the time. This one was nothing new. At least, not as far as he was concerned. Scowl deepening slightly, he frowned and sat up as he brushed the offending sheet of xerox paper out of his way to scowl at the black-haired girl holding it.

"Yeah, so what? That supposed to matter to me for some reason?"

Rukia frowned, pulling the paper back to study it.

"What's this "prom" thing that they're talking about? Some sort of club thing?"

Rolling his eyes, he laid back down on the bench. She'd just HAD to ask about it, hadn't she? Here he'd been, minding his own business during free period, and what had happened? The short, noisy shinigami had suddenly loomed over him and stuck, of all things, a prom flier in his face. And if Kurosaki Ichigo didn't want to participate in club activities, he certainly had no desire to dress up in a penguin suit and sit stiffly around pretending to be nice to people. Hell no. In fact, he'd rather have his teeth drilled. Or parade around school in Ishida's Quincy outfit. Or...any number of painful and torturous things. ANYTHING was preferable to a formal dance.

"Look, I ain't interested in these kinda stupid things. Go ask Inoue or Chad or something."

Handing the paper back to her, he cocked his head to the side as if to say "Now do you finally get it?". The petite shinigami frowned, shaking her head.

"But Ichigo, what IS it? It seems like a big deal, everyone's talking about it. And about reservations and something called a "limo", and is it some sort of big party or something?"

Glaring at her over his bento, he rolled his eyes again. Great, he wasn't going to get ANY lunch, now was he? Sitting up and swinging his legs off of the side of the bench, he ignored her until the sharp impact of one foot against his shoulder caused him to yelp and yank the appendage out of the way with a snarl at the girl.

"What the fuck did you just kick me for?!"

Violet eyes scowled back at him as the petite Kuchiki crossed her arms over her chest with a glare.

"You were ignoring me, you dumbass. Now tell me what the hell a "prom" is."

"Or what, you'll draw something for me? I don't think I deserve THAT sort of torture, but-"

His snide remarks were cut off by four small fingers. Chin, meet hand. With a dirty look at Rukia, he stood up and loomed over her. It was unfair, using his height to try and intimidate her, but he wasn't in the best of moods. And her kicking him hadn't helped. Not that the looming helped, either. In fact, all it earned him was a remark about how he ought to "quit being such an asshole", and a sharp kick in the shins. Growling, he clenched one fist by his side. Oh, but he wanted to hit her right now. And it galled him that not only could he NOT do so, but also that were he to take leave of his senses and actually carry OUT said thought, regardless of what she did later he would never forgive himself. Afterall, she WAS a girl. Sure, she was a hundred years or so older then he was, and she was violent and annoying and loud. But still a girl. And despite the fact that he knew perfectly well that she could take care of herself, it didn't mean that Kurosaki Ichigo was going to make an exception to his "don't hit girls" rule.

"If I tell you, will you shut the hell up about it and quit being a bitch?"

Small features melted into a charming smile as she nodded. Of course. Afterall, it would mean she had gotten her way. Which was what she'd wanted in the first place.

"So, what's a prom?"

With a sigh, Ichigo ran a hand through unruly orange locks and sat back down. "It's a dance. Just a stupid, formal dance where a bunch of idiots dress up in stupid fancy clothes and eat fingerfoods and pretend they actually like each other. There, you satisfied?" He hoped she was. Hell, if he kept having to talk about it, she might try and make HIM go. And he'd already been down that road in the mental wonderland he called his brain. Oh no. Prom in itself was a no-go. Prom with a noisy and irritating and beautiful shinigami was even MORE of a no-go. Frown shifting slightly into one of puzzlement, he rolled the mental phrase over in his mind. Where did the "beautiful" come from, anyway? Maybe Kon was rubbing off on him. Shuddering at the idea, he felt his heart stop as those fateful and doom-laden words sounded like silvery chimes from beside him.

"Ichigo, go to this prom thing with me."

Not a request, not even really a plea. Not that he was surprised. No, when it came down to things between he and Rukia, it was never a request. Always an order. Afterall, the raven-haired girl was not one to sit idly by when she didn't get her way. But this time, he was NOT giving in. Shaking his head, he resumed eating his lunch.

"No."

Irritated look returning to her face, she planted hands on her hips and grabbed the top of his head, yanking his head up by his hair.

"Yes. It'll be fun, Ichigo. And I want to go."

And there it was. The one word that made him shudder. Fun. "Fun", he had found, seldom held true to the definition in the dictionary. In fact, in most cases, "fun" had translated to something along the lines of "everyone else has fun while Kurosaki Ichigo has to put up with them". Scowl deepening as he wrenched his head from her grasp, he stared at her for a moment. Crossing hands over his chest, he shook his head frantically.

"No, not a chance, absolutely not. I am NOT going! Now quit buggin' me about it."

Stepping around her yet again, the lanky teen took advantage of the bell's tone to make a dash for the door, leaving Rukia behind him with the flier.

If Ichigo had thought that dealing with Rukia earlier had been a pain, he was finding that in reality it had only served to pave the way for the aggravation of the next few classes. Thankfully, the violet-eyed girl had found that Inoue and Keigo and some of the others seemed to be much more forthcoming with their information then he had been, so now she was bothering THEM instead of him. Taking the few moments between classes, he raised his head from the cradle of his arms to glance over at the noisy group in the corner. Rukia sat, looking entranced as Inoue and the other girls gestured and chattered like a pack of noisy squirrels.

What the hell's so goddamned interesting about a stupid dance, anyway?

With a deeper scowl, he resumed his prior task, which embarassingly enough, was that of keeping a certain pair of violet eyes out of his mind. Perhaps if he were more honest with himself, it wouldn't be so hard to admit that the shinigami didn't irritate him nearly as much as he often pretended. Or maybe it would make it easier to accept the fact that since she had shown up in his bedroom a year and a half ago, there had seldom been a day where she hadn't been on his mind. But, thinking about that also meant acknowledging it in the first place. And while he would argue until he was blue in the face that rescuing her from Soul Society and rescuing Inoue from Hueco Mundo had been completely different, he balked at being asked to try and explain the reasoning behind his assertions.

Why the hell does she get to me so damned much?

Eyes watching the movements and shifts of her eyes, he couldn't help but feel captivated by the deep violet that sparkled in them. Or notice the fact that her movements were, as always, graceful and delicate and poised. Even though he knew perfectly well that she hadn't been born nobility, the orange-haired shinigami would have thought otherwise had he taken the time to consider it. But...was that really what it was that always seemed to grab his attention? Really...what WAS it about Rukia that always seemed to stick in his mind? His rambling thoughts were interrupted by the impact of Asano Keigo and the others as they landed on him. Or his desk. Either way, the effect was the same and he was left threatening to punch Keigo if he did it again. Ichigo's classmate laughed, feigning a wounded expression before he started in on THE topic.

"So Ichigo, who are you gonna take to the prom?"

An elbow nudged him in the ribs as a suggestive look was tossed his way. Behind Keigo, Mizuiro snickered slightly, while Chad was his usual stoic self. Leaning over, Keigo's face took on a sly grin.

"Bet you're asking Kuchiki-san, huh? You do spend a lot of time with her, you know..."

Crimson stained his cheeks for only a moment before knuckles were grinding their way into Keigo's skull with a vengeance as he stubbornly and loudly proclaimed his hatred for anything dance-related.

"Would you fucking cut it OUT, Keigo! I already said I'm not going to some stupid fucking prom and I'm certainly not going to one with her!"

If he thought back over it later, he'd have realized how the words sounded. How they would obviously be taken by most anyone who heard them. How they might hurt. But it wasn't later. It was now, and so with an angry and aggravated huff, he turned his attention back to his desk and away from the rest of the class. Not caring that his sudden outburst had served to stun most of them into silence. Not to mention failing to notice the way a certain pair of hands tightened momentarily on the edge of the desk before her manner relaxed and she resumed the light-hearted chatting with the other girls. Thus it was that Ichigo found himself rather surprised when the one waiting for him after school wasn't his usual constant companion of a shinigami. Rather, it was the other noisy dark-haired girl in his life. Raising orange eyebrows in a confused manner, his casual "Yo" was cut off by Tatsuki's fist hitting him in the jaw. He reeled backwards, scowling as he opened and closed said jaw with a frown at the girl.

"What the fuck was that for?! Rukia send you so you could hit me first or something?"

Tatsuki rolled her eyes angrily at him before planting a hand in the center of his chest and shoving him back against the wall as she glared at him.

"You are such an asshole, sometimes. I can't believe you said something like that!"

She didn't have to elaborate. The orange-haired shinigami knew exactly what his friend was talking about. Now whether he wanted to think about it or not, that was a different story. That being the case, he settled for a deeper scowl and a shrug.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Besides, I don't think it's any of your business what I say."

Another glare. Oh, she wanted to punch him. Not to mention the irritating man seemed so damned determined to figuratively bash his head against the wall. Tatsuki honestly would have rather kicked him and left. Afterall, why was she even bothering to try and talk sense into the orange-haired idiot. With an inner sigh, she reminded herself that it wasn't for her, or for him. It was for Orihime. It hadn't been Tatsuki, but the sweet-natured walnut-haired girl who had noticed the flash of hurt in Kuchiki Rukia's eyes at Ichigo's words. Who had seen the minute tightening of the smaller girl's grip on her desk before the mask had slid seamlessly into place and Rukia was her usual smiling self again. And it had been Orihime who had appealed to Tatsuki to try and talk to Ichigo while she tried to cheer up the black-haired girl who, to Tatsuki's eyes, hadn't needed any cheering up in the first place. She mentally chastised her best friend at the thought. Orihime was too nice for her own good at times. Afterall, Tatsuki knew very well how her closest friend felt about the lanky teen who was currently sulking against the wall. But leave it to the smiling girl with the flower-shaped clips in her hair to put her own feelings aside and try to help someone who wasn't only a friend, but a rival for said boy's attentions.

Orihime, you aren't supposed to help the competition. It's better for you if they're not as close.

Despite that, Tatsuki knew better. Orihime wasn't the sort of girl who would stand idly by while those she cared about were hurting. Even if it meant her own feelings were disregarded. And…Tatsuki admired her for that. It took a lot of strength to realize that, regardless of how much she might love Ichigo, the orange-haired boy's eyes were always on Rukia. And that Rukia's eyes were always on him. Even if the dumbass himself didn't realize it. But, it seemed that trying to get the block-headed man to realize what a colossal mistake he had probably just made was not going to work. Which left the direct approach.

"You made her cry, you know."

That stopped him. The scowl faded into confusion and…something else. Had he…really made her cry? Momentarily forgetting that Tatsuki was standing there, he replayed the last few hours in his head. He hadn't seen her cry. And she'd certainly seemed happy and content. But then, Rukia always was good at hiding things. Even from him, at times. His inner musings were interrupted in a rather sudden and spectacular fashion by Tatsuki punching him in the shoulder. Obviously, he was doing something irritating again.

"Ichigo! Quit spacing out while I'm talking to you, you moron! You should apologize."

The scowl returned and he shrugged, brushing off her arm to start walking off. Whether her words had actually made an impact or not, that didn't mean he was going to do anything about it. Besides, Rukia was tough. She wasn't the sort to cry over something stupid like a prom. Would she? Ignoring Tatsuki's angry yelling from behind him, he turned the corner and headed home.

Author's Notes:

Hey guys, I hope that you're enjoying if you're reading. This actually started as a little songfic/drabble that just overgrew itself a tad, but I think it turned out well. If you don't get the title, you will at the end. Anyway, it's set fairly soon after the gang manages to rescue Orihime from Hueco Mundo, and since the manga hasn't gotten to that point yet, I'm using my creatives license to assume that everyone made it back safe and sound and things went back to normal.