Umbrella, a bleach fanfic

Summary: Ichigo stands under Rukia's umbrella when the rain comes pouring and his life is miserable. Not because he wants her, but because she's always there. She finds herself under his umbrella as well. IchiRuki

Author's Note: A lot of people makes their standard rain fic with Rukia and Ichigo, so I wanted to do one too. Except I made mine on May 31, 2007, and for some reason, I never posted it. Well maybe because it's kinda lame, hahaha, but whatever. It was just a flitting thought.

The beginning lines are credited to Rihanna's song, Umbrella, to whoever wrote it. Yes, I used to be obsessed with this song.

Special thanks to akiqueen for her time to beta-read this fic. You are awesome.

Umbrella

An IchiRuki one-shot by Goku's Daughter

Now that it's raining more than ever
Know that we still have each other
You can stand under my umbrella

You can stand under my umbrella

Rain is a type of precipitation, formed when separate drops of water fall from the cloud to the Earth's surface. Sometimes, when it comes down, it pours. And it will beat down restlessly. It will pound on the black pavement, looking for a pervious cover to seep into, and of course fall downwards via gravity.

They fought again. It was normal, husband-wife-like bickering when she nagged him that he was being reckless and he had to use his head in a fight. Hollows may be stupid, but still; "Don't make it into a game."

Things escalated, though. He was tired and irritated. Ichigo did not understand why she worried so much. "Listen, I'm fine now. Let me do my homework," he angrily huffed at her, sitting down on his chair.

She backed off a bit, sensing his agitation. Her beautiful, purple-blue orbs glanced out of his window and saw that the sun was setting down. The sky was a canvas of pinks, yellows, oranges and reds, and soon darkness would come. Rukia did not even offer to accompany him to the convenience store when Yuzu wanted some eggs. Their fight had lingered in the room, and she supposed it would be better if one of them left so they could both steam off.

The rain can be very beautiful. It's a matter of perspective, yes, but picture two lovers caught in a storm and all they have is each other. The lovers are mad, in passion, and they cling onto each other in the rain. The wetness draws them so close that they can't help but share a deep kiss. They hold onto each other, and though the rain continues to spit on them, they have each other. And that's all that matters.

She worried again when an hour passed and he didn't come back. Rukia rose from his bed, rubbing her eye and looked outside. The sky that was once a canvas of brilliant colours was now grey. It was faint, but her ears could perceive a soft tapping sound. And the water came spitting down.

The rain was beautiful.

She walked down the stairs of the Kurosaki household and found Isshin holding an umbrella in his hands. He was looking through the window as if waiting for someone to come home. Then he noticed her presence and turned to her.

He wore his happy grin and said, "I was going to give Ichigo this." He then handed it to her, his grin softening to a smile. "But I see we had the same idea." The older man turned after giving her a small wink, and Rukia left the house with a simple, "Thank you."

It was even beautiful in depressing times. The dark grey skies. The unfriendly coldness of the water. The putter-putter sound the rain makes on the roof and windows. It beats harmoniously with the pangs of our hearts, understanding our pain, our mood, our frustrations. It helps us mope, secluding us, making us look for warmth. When we peer outside of the window, such a depressing sight is beautiful, especially when we frown and our eyes grow dreary in failure.

When she found him, he held a plastic bag in his hands with his eyes transfixed on the spot his mother had died. At this point the rain was coming down harder and making it difficult to see. Despite this, she knew it was him by the way he was standing; if his orange hair didn't give him away. His clothes were plastered on his body, outlining the lean, toned body he had. He shivered once, as if sensing she was there. Then he shoved a hand in his pocket with his back straight, almost a proud stance; but his head hung and Rukia knew better. His hair covered his eyes to hide his pain, his fear, and his hurt. When Rukia approached him, she could see the deep lines of his face, the burdens within his heart, and all she could do is touch his arm.

The rain was beautiful.

He did not acknowledge her presence. Not until she held the umbrella over his head, keeping him safe from the rain. Then, he slowly turned his head to her, and his frown faltered. "What are you doing here?"

Orihime sat by her window and watched the rain putter down to the grey streets. She sighed, for she too had a bad memory in the rain. Then she closed her eyes and began to daydream.

Her thoughts drifted to a certain orange-haired boy. She whispered to herself, "If…If I were the rain that binds together the Earth and the sky, whom in all eternity will never mingle. . . Would I be able to bind two hearts together?"

She looked to where he was staring previously. The water by the bank seemed greyer in such weather, and she slipped her eyes closed for a second, blocking out the image of a younger Ichigo, holding his dead mother in his arms. Crying and weeping. "I came to bring the umbrella to keep you out of the rain, and so you don't get sick."

"If I was the rain…" This line replayed in her head when she was alone, when God's tears came crashing to Earth and the sorrows of her heart bled. When she frowned, worry and want – for Kurosaki Ichigo - was etched on her face. Her eyes shone with hurt.

She didn't know why she felt so deeply for him. But she just did.

Ichigo nodded, grabbing the umbrella from her hand and holding it higher so both would not get wet. Rukia didn't complain; he was taller and had the obvious advantage.

"Do you like the rain?" he asked her at last. The rain came down harder on them and she suppressed a shiver when a fork of lightning flashed in the sky.

"No," she responded. The thunder rolled, and this time she shivered.

She wanted to connect to Ichigo. She loved him, yes. So of course she wanted to be the one who held the umbrella over his head when his rain came down and drowned him.

Orihime learned quickly that she could not – and was not - that woman.

His gaze drifted to her small form under the umbrella. His eyes widened a little when she walked away from him, a few steps closer to the bank and far enough from him that her body became drenched. A sudden gust of wind made her dress dance and then she turned to face him.

"You almost died in the rain, when we faced that hollow." She paused, and a deep frown set on her face. "And when I left you, it was raining and you were almost dead, again. There are a lot of bad memories, Ichigo." Then Rukia bit her lower lip. She was hesitant. "And what's worse, someone actually died in my arms in the rain. He was my friend, like you, and I truly cared about him." She never told him this before, but it seemed fitting on a night like this.

His pained expression disappeared slightly, and for about five seconds he did not say anything. The rain fell down harder and the sound of the pitter-patter grew heavier. "Come under the umbrella," he told her at last, watching her with an intense stare.

Orihime's frown tightened and the pain became more visible on her face. Her thoughts drifted to a certain short shinigami.

Lightning flashed and thunder roared. Her eyelids almost closed. Suddenly tired, Orihime's thoughts swam.

"We both have bad memories in the rain, so how can we like it?" Rukia asked him in a loud but wounded voice. His mother died in the rain. Rukia left him defeated in the rain. How could he like the rain?

"Then we should make good memories in the rain." What he had said had slightly surprised himself, but he took a step closer to her. Thunder clapped, and it seemed louder this time, but he paid no heed to the storm they were in. Only to the storm churning inside themselves.

She was not the one who held the umbrella. Rukia did. Rukia held the umbrella over Ichigo's head when the rain came down and drowned him. She held the umbrella, protecting him from the pain, the sadness, the coldness…

She's the one who got him out of a funk. She's the one who could slap sense into him. She's the one who made him into a better man.

She's the one who changed his world.

The image of Ichigo in his billowing cape suddenly came to mind. The image of Ichigo swinging his large blade, smiling arrogantly, followed. The image of Ichigo sitting on the rooftop, watching the white tower where Rukia was captive, until the sunset …

It was all for her.

A rush of chilly air whipped at her face, tousling her raven hair. "How do we do that?"

His shoulders lifted and then fell. He shoved his fingers into his orange locks, raking through like a comb. "I don't know." He coughed, clearing his throat. "You should really come under the umbrella now."

So what was she, Orihime? Her fingers latched onto her arm, uncomfortable. She could not explain such a sick feeling in her gut, but she scratched her arm several times as her eyes grew moist. Then, she opened her mouth and those words floated in her lonely room again:

"If I were the rain that binds together the Earth and the sky, whom in all eternity will never mingle. . . Would I be able to bind two hearts together?"

When Rukia did not listen, which was not uncommon, Ichigo walked forward and held the black umbrella over her head. "The least I can do is to make your rain stop, like how you have stopped mine."

Could she become the rain? Was Ichigo the Earth and Rukia the sky? True, under normal circumstances they were never meant to meet. Earth never meets the sky. So was it her purpose to bring them together? Was she the tragedy meant to happen to join them as one?

But they both had deep hurts in the rain that brought them together.

So what? That wasn't enough? They are meant to be more?

Her lips parted and she shivered against the wind. Finally, she let her eyes meet his and she shook her head. She was tougher than this, but she supposed it was okay to let her brick wall fall when she was with him.

It was then she said something that had surprised him. "Your mom would be proud of you. You act like an idiot sometimes, but you have a good heart."

His eye twitched at the idiot part, but he smiled at her other words. He did not stop his hand from resting on her shoulder, nor did he have control when his hand drifted against her skin to cup her face. A sudden flash burned the sky and his name left her lips in a gentle sigh. It was an out of character act, but she supposed on this night, the night where the world wants to drown you and defeat you, this was okay.

Because sometimes you can't do it all alone.

And because sometimes, you just needed someone.

She sighed to herself. Those two fight a lot. It would not be easy to put them together. They were so unlike from normal people. And then, as she really thought about it, she felt a pain as if someone stabbed her heart and then pulled up and down as if to get the jagged blade out. Them…together?

The rain was still falling, but not as hard at it was before. Not until he told her, "I'll always be there for you," and then he added, "idiot." His eyes softened. His mouth twisted into a half-smile. And he continued mentally, "And when the rain pours and your world becomes dark, we'll still have each other." An uncanny, mutual understanding was exchanged by the silence that followed.

The rain is beautiful. Almost as beautiful as love. But love doesn't make you cold, and wet, and depressed, and sad. Love is warm, happy, and fuzzy.

Love takes on many different forms. Love continually evolves.

To fight to save your friend… to fight and lay down your life for them… this is a bold and strong testament.

Her eyes did not stray from his until his hand dropped to his side and he turned away. She felt warmth with him, and she could still feel the warmth of his hand on her shoulder and on her face. Then, after a moment of silence, they turned and walked back to the house. And this time, he didn't have to say, "Stand under my umbrella," because she already knew.

End

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