There it is.

You'd think that in a house so small, the cabinets would be closer to the ground compared to most—but you'd be sorely mistaken. Rukia would know, as she'd been thinking the same thing herself.

It didn't help that the exact pot she needed to cook dinner had been, for some nonsensical reason, placed on the highest shelf of the highest cabinet in her small kitchen and her four foot, eight-and-a-half inch frame only complicated the matter.

She'd bet that Renji and his obscenely tall figure (when compared to her) had placed them on a shelf she couldn't reach, hoping that she wouldn't dare to take the risk with her . . . condition and (gasp!) cook something.

"Stupid pineapple-head," Rukia muttered, before hobbling over with her swollen pregnant belly to the sitting room and dragging out a chair. Renji or Byakuya probably would tell her not to strain herself, but since neither was present at the moment, she scooted the chair under the accusing cabinet and clambered on. Doing so was quite a challenge; she wasn't used to moving with such a bulbous object attached to her body.

Standing on the very tips of her toes, Rukia stretched out her hand and reached for the pot, her fingers just inches away from its handle. She sighed. It was moments like these that she wished she hadn't sent away the servants that her brother had ordered to stay at the house.

For the first three years after her and Renji's marriage, they'd stayed at the Kuchiki manor, thriving off of Byakuya's kindness and hospitality. Them being family, her brother had no regrets in them living in the manor for as long as they liked, but both Rukia and Renji couldn't help but feel an imposing uneasiness every moment they resided with Byakuya—not that they didn't appreciate his kindness, more for the fact that they worried about taking it for granted.

So they had begun saving.

Renji had stopped buying sunglasses for three years straight, and Rukia had saved every kan she could, and considering Byakuya had asserted to pay for everything, she was able to save much more than she had originally thought. When they finally had had enough money to build a house, Byakuya had been surprised and insisted that it be constructed on Kuchiki land, sparing them that expense as well.

The house had been small and simple (her brother had wanted to offer up his own money to purchase them a grander one, but Renji had drawn the line there), yet Rukia had adored it. It was reminiscent of the houses in the World of the Living in its interior, and she was intrigued by the adorable rabbit hedges that had been trimmed in the garden.

A few weeks later, she had announced her pregnancy.

While Rukia could see her husband's quiet pride, he and Byakuya had completely gone berserk. Renji immediately talked to Captain-Commander Kyōraku and had had Rukia taken out of her captain duties for an entire year, while Byakuya had sanctioned an entire fleet of servants to her home so that she, who already had nothing to do while having been stripped of her duties, could exert herself as little as possible.

That was when she had sent them away. Byakuya had yet to find out, and she hadn't thought of a proper excuse of what to tell him when he did.

And now, seven months later, thanks to her gift of being height-deprived, Rukia wished she could call them back.

At the same time, she knew she would feel like a failure if she dared take such action. She'd spent the past seven months hobbling around with a swollen stomach, chided had she even dared to light the stove. She'd not seen nor heard from her division since then, nor wielded Sode no Shirayuki properly—in battle.

Byakuya had claimed it to be so it would protect her unborn child—the Soul Society was a dangerous place to give birth in—and to protect her. Renji had repeated the same thing, signaling it with an eloquent "what he said".

Rukia, so used to protecting others—her friends, family, the Soul Society, and herself—couldn't help but grow sad when she saw Renji sparring with a dummy outside, swinging Zabimaru proudly, or when she'd hear from Orihime, who'd tell her about all the interesting things happening at her job at a donut shop in the World of the Living.

When Renji would come home from a day at the 6th Division barracks, he'd tell her all sorts of wild stories and would keep her updated on her own Division and how they were adjusting to their new temporary captain—her lieutenant. She'd always feel a wave of envy wash over her whenever her husband would tell her such happenings.

There was nothing more she longed to do than be back with the Gotei 13, wearing her captain's haori, and to call upon Sode no Shirayuki's strength to annihilate an enemy. She'd even gone as far as to long for the mountains of paperwork that captain's always had to deal with—anything to relieve herself of the feeling of uselessness that seeped deep into her veins.

"Rukia, what the hell do you think you're doing?" a voice echoed from the front door.

She flinched. She'd forgotten it was nearly time to for Renji to come home.

She heard the quiet rush of shunpō as Renji practically flew to her, his eyes accusing, and willed herself to think of a plausible excuse as to why she'd been standing on her chair in attempts to cook dinner—which she'd been reminded countless times not to do. She couldn't think of one.

Rukia huffed down towards her husband, who now glared at her with his hands on his hips. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm cooking dinner."

Grabbing her by the waist, Renji gently pulled her down from the chair and Rukia's surprised "Oof!" echoed through the air—but he didn't put her on the ground. He gave an angry grunt. "You idiot, how many times do I have to tell you? You're not supposed to be exerting yourself—which includes cooking dinner. What would Captain Kuchiki say?" His eyes widened when he glanced the chair she'd used to try and reach the cabinet. He looked at her suspiciously. "Don't tell me you dragged the chair here all by yourself?"

She frowned. "How else would I have gotten it over here?"

This time, Renji softly put her down on the ground and gave a sigh. She couldn't meet his eyes as he ran his hands through his fiery red hair in frustration. "Rukia, don't you get it? I'm on your side in this. I'm just trying to protect you."

"Then stop making me feel useless!" Rukia cried. She averted her gaze to the ground and spoke softly. "For the past seven months, I haven't been able to do anything. You and Byakuya keep me holed up here and give me nothing to do, and all I want to is return to my Division—I want to feel like I'm needed again, Renji."

She took a deep breath. That certainly had been a mouthful. Slowly, she felt remorse fill her stomach. She—she sounded like a spoiled child who had cried because she'd been bored. Renji and Byakuya had been doing everything to make her feel comfortable, but there she went, complaining about their kindness.

Her husband was silent, and his hands were still by his side.

Rukia gulped. "Renji, you know what I—"

Suddenly, she noticed him shaking. It was subtle yet she found herself worrying. "Renji, are you—"

She felt herself being ensconced by a warm arm and her face was soon buried by the folds of the shihakushō that lined Renji's chest. It took her a moment to realize that the soft heaves that shook him were peals of laughter. She let herself melt into his warmth.

"You—you," he said between laughs, "you think you're useless?" He grinned when she looked up at him. "Rukia, you really are an idiot."

"Hey—what?" she asked, her words muffled when he pulled her back closer to him. She hadn't missed the insult and would surely pay him back for it later.

Renji stopped laughing for a moment and held her an arm's length away. He raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think I haven't noticed that all my shihakushōs have been washed? Or that the house looks significantly cleaner than it ever has been before in the past seven months? Or that my bandanas are always neatly folded every morning?"

Rukia blushed slightly. She thought she'd been sneaky with those tasks. Even though they had been far and few between, she'd still tried to occupy herself without getting caught—not that it always worked, it seemed.

He grinned knowingly and poked her shoulder. "And even when you think you don't have anything else to—always remember, someone else needs you." He gestured towards her bulging stomach. "Our kid needs you, Rukia. I'll do whatever I can to lessen the burden, but she—he—whatever, always will need you."

Rukia pondered his words for a moment. Renji had never been one for wisdom or fancy dialogue—just whatever he determined to be the truth. And this time was no exception. She glanced down towards her swollen womb, towards the life that had been growing there for the past seven months. The life she'd sworn to protect.

Suddenly she didn't feel so useless anymore.