A/N: random. Set it anywhere in the series you want.

A/N: I just really love the balance between the things they can't say, won't say, and do say. Also, I want Rukia to be a badass more often. And I need to experiment with writing some kind of action-y stuff.

Title: hand-to-hand

Summary: "Spar with me," she demanded. –Ichigo/Rukia

.

.

.

She was sitting on his bed one afternoon, legs crossed, a manga in her lap that she was ignoring. Her eyes were far away for many minutes, he noticed out of the corner of his eyes. She looked for all the world like a bored child, waiting for mommy and daddy in the grocery store. Suddenly she looked up.

"Spar with me today."

Ichigo looked up from his homework, a deep frown in place. "What?"

But Rukia was already standing, putting the manga back on his desk. "Spar with me," she repeated, making it sound so easy.

He swallowed, slowly. "Why?"

Now she looked a little surprised. "The same reason anyone spars. To test our abilities." Now a mischievous smile crept up the sides of her face, and she thumbed her nose at him. "Or do you think I'll be too rough with you?"

She was less than five feet tall, petite, and pale. She had the size and face of a little girl, and she looked so willful standing in his bedroom with her mocking face and violet eyes egging him on.

Ichigo chuckled at that, lifted a fist at her. "I'm more concerned I'll be too rough with you, midget."

.

.

.

They went to Urahura's underground training room, armed only with two wooden bokkens. They were dressed alike, in the familiar Shinigami uniform, all black, stark and serious-looking, though this was not a major battle or a desperate flight to safety. Today would be purely physical; it would be about the speed, strength, and agility of their bodies, with no regard to Spiritual Energy or Shikai or Bonkai or whatever.

"Leisurely," she said, tossing him the wooden sword with a smile—

and immediately disappeared from his sight.

(I'll show you, she thought as she approached at lightning speed—I'll show you I can handle myself.

You won't always have to save me.

'Cause I can save myself.)

Ichigo caught her sword thrust over his left shoulder quite casually, but did not counter; she backed off, then charged again. He turned, prepared himself to meet her attack, and beat her back again. Again he did not counter.

He was watching the way her body moved, clinically studying her strength

(she's faster than I realized)

finding the weaknesses

(there—in her left ankle—and here—in her upthrust)

sensing where she was going next.

(And he'd felt it— in that second when their bokken had met—

Rukia? Are you actually worried about that?

Fool.)

But Ichigo did not chase her down, he merely beat her back. He did not thrust forward toward her. Again and again, he allowed her to charge, followed her when she pulled back, but did not strike.

But neither of them was panting yet. She had not disturbed one hair on her head.

"Are you going easy on me?" she called out. Frowned darkly. "If you are, I'll kill you, Ichigo."

He almost laughed. He wanted to dissipate her bad mood. "You really said that? Oh how scary."

"Idiot!" she cried—"I asked you to spar with me, not play with me!"

At that, she disappeared again, and he saw her fade in and out of his vision as her speed and direction changed—until—

"I will kill you." Her bokken was at his throat.

He was taken aback a little—he remembered again, who she was. She was not Rukia, some random girl who tagged along on his adventures. She was the instigator of the adventure, the adventure itself.

"Treat me with respect. Spar with me seriously," she insisted.

Now he jerked and caught her legs out from under her, moved behind her before she could regain her footing, and clashed—

Bokken to bokken, nose to nose, two pairs of arms struggling against each other.

"Here it comes, Rukia," he said seriously, then grinned his battle-grin, the one he showed true adversaries. She was grateful to see it.

Now Ichigo forced her back, charged, and she dodged, flipping, before coming back at him off the weight of her feet. He returned with a thrust of his own, his bokken glancing off of hers before grazing her shoulder harshly—

(Oh, Rukia—his mind twitched.)

But she had leapt out of the way of his inevitable next counter, high above him, before alighting momentarily on his shoulder—then taking off again, running in the opposite direction.

"Oi, where are you going?" he called, giving chase. "I thought you wanted to spar?!"

She did not answer, but kept a decent pace ahead of him. He followed, hustling patiently after, waiting to see what she would do next.

She did not disappoint.

Rukia rounded on him, darted straight for him without even raising her bokken—and he raised his in turn, prepared to fend her off—but she slid between his knees and out the other side, whipping with her bokken the backs of his knees.

He bent over, gasping for a second at the force of the dead-leg—and a second later, she was slamming down, down, hard! Implanting him into the rugged ground, one knee on each of his shoulder blades.

"Damn it woman," he ground out, but she was already gone, laughing.

"What do you think now? Am I a good enough sparring partner?"

(Do you know now—that I can do this myself, too?)

She was a ways off now, leaping to higher ground so that he would have to follow her. She grinned at him, looking for all the world like the personification of victory.

"Oi, yeah," he called, grinning back—

(And he really meant it.)

—Before disappearing.

She gulped a little, trying to sense him on all sides, but she could not see or feel anything for several moments. The calm was eerie, and she was sure he was about to do something dramatic. She stood in her place on plateau, eyes closed, trying to bring in the atmosphere around her, trying to find him—

"Looking for me?" he asked at her ear—

And then her back was on the ground, his bokken pinning her throat beneath it. Ichigo loomed over her, a knee on either side of her ribcage, all six feet + of him, face brilliantly flushed and exhilarated.

"I think you've found me," he added slyly.

"Or I've found you," she replied.

The tip of her bokken grazed his Adam's apple. He hadn't seen it coming, if he were honest; she saw that on his face. Experimenting, she nudged it a little, just enough to make him uncomfortable. In turn, he pressed his down on her windpipe.

"Give up yet?"

Her eyes flashed. "Never."

In a second, she had adjusted her body, pulling her legs up and around Ichigo's waist so that she could shove him back with all the force of her body weight. Now he was on his back, head dangling dangerously over the cliff, and she was the one pinning him with her bokken and legs.

"How now, Ichigo?"

Everything was still for several seconds.

(Have I won? She dared to hope, dared to think for a second that Ichigo might understand.)

"I give up," he sighed.

She frowned. "What, why?"

Ichigo calmly attempted to push her off of him, but she did not give. "Why are you giving up now?"

His eyes met hers. "You're better than me, Rukia."

She stood now, put her hands on her small hips. "Of course I am. But what made you agree with me?"

He took her bokken from her, turned away, and headed for the exit. "Every fighter has a weakness, something that will do him in. And you've found mine. That's what gives you edge."

She stared at his broad back for a moment, feeling the pregnant pause and not knowing what to say.

(Have you guessed it, yet? He wondered briefly.)

(If I'm so much stronger than you, she thought, why do I feel helpless in front of you?)

"Oi, you ready?" he glanced over his shoulder. "We'll come back again soon."

And then she smiled, fully, genuinely, before a terrible smirk emerged and she pranced forward. "Sure, if you think you can handle it next time—I won't go easy on you, y'know."

(I won't go easy on you, either, Rukia. I'll fight you until the moment I know your confidence has returned.

But I could never win against you, either)

.

.

.

fin.

A/N: i think this is what they call a "plot bunny"? Some small idea that won't let you go? I don't know. I've been watching TV all day and eating junk food and I have to be awake for work in five hours. Good night, and please review, lovelies.