Won't You Smile for Me Tonight

Part 2

Throughout her life, Rukia has been faced with everything from poverty to loneliness to death. She has been faced with it, and she somehow managed to overcome all of it, whether by luck or chance or sheer determination. As such, there are very few things that frighten her.

If she really had to decide, she'd say that her fears came down to three things: something ill-fated happening to Byakuya which she could do nothing to fix, drowning, and losing Ichigo.

So no, Rukia doesn't fear many things. But when the Hollow above her smiles a truly terrifying smile and pushes her bangs away from eyes and behind her ear so gently that she could almost – almost – mistake him for Ichigo, Rukia screams.

The Hollow's blank eyes widen to reveal an even greater expanse of white. But then his eyes clench shut and his hands leave her hips to press the heels of his palms against his temples.

"Fuck," he bites out and Rukia realizes that he's in pain. But it doesn't matter, not when he gasps out, "Rukia," a moment later, and his eyes snap open to reveal dark brown pupils, made even darker by horror.

It's Ichigo. It's Ichigo's who's looking her like he's not sure who she is and what she's doing there. His hands are clutching his head, but he's frozen, so still that not even his chest moves as he breathes.

But Rukia's breaths are coming out in heaves, her eyes roving over every aspect of Ichigo's face from his slightly parted mouth to the sharp cuts of his jaw to the hair that's brushing over the tips of his ears. It's Ichigo, and despite her thudding heart and the sweat that has gathered on her hairline, she reaches forward to cup his cheek, relieved that she has him back.

"Rukia," he says, moving to cover her hand with one of his own when suddenly, he flinches. A frantic look appears on his face and he scrambles to get himself untangled from the sheets. "Rukia. Get away from–"

A blink, and his eyes are white again.

But this time, Rukia's not afraid.

She's not sure why, exactly. Perhaps it comes from the fact that she knows the thing in front of her is not Ichigo and that she needs to get rid of it to get him back. The Hollow could hurt her, hurt Ichigo. And nothing can keep her from stopping whatever wants to cause Ichigo harm because the need to save him, protect him, is an ingrained part of her being.

She jumps off the bed and Sode no Shiroyuki materializes in her hands. And at the sight of her zanpakutou, a slow grin unravels on the Hollow's face.

"So that's how you want to do it, huh?"

He stands up from the bed, and immediately Rukia stance switches to a defensive one The Hollow doesn't pay her any mind, however, and instead stretches his arms and rolls his shoulders. Zangetsu appears a moment later, and the Hollow tosses it from hand to hand, as though testing its versatility.

Rukia suppresses a shiver. She knows that no matter how much she has improved, she will never be a match for Ichigo, never mind his–

"Come on then, Kurosaki Rukia," says the Hollow, smirking. "I've been itching for a good fight."

But that doesn't matter.

She's still going to fight.

"Don't–" Her throat constricts and she has to pause, but it doesn't last long. "Do notthink that I will hesitate to attack you. Ichigo would rather I damage his body than let you have control."

The Hollow smiles widely.

"You're right," he says. "I can hear him, he wants you to stop me. But he knows you can't. He knows that you're not strong enough, he knows that you can't bring yourself to–"

Rukia stabs him in the arm.

The Hollow stops speaking when Zangetsu slips from his fingers and drops to the floor.

"I would never hurt Ichigo," she says. The Hollow watches as Rukia pulls out her sword out and holds it in front of her. "But you are not him."

And it's true. Rukia has gotten good at compartmentalizing. After everything with Shiba Kaien, she doesn't think she would have survived if she didn't learn how.

The Hollow watches his blood run down his arm. "He can feel the pain, you know."

Rukia swallows down the bitter taste on her tongue.

"I know."

Then there's a moment in time, where everything grinds to a halt, and the Hollow simply looks at Rukia.

And then he starts to laugh.

"You are phenomenal," he grins, leaning down to pick up his sword. "You never stop surprising me, Rukia. So strong. So determined. You're one of a kind. How did the other me ever manage to land you?"

And then he disappears from her sight for a fraction of a second, and before she can blink, the Hollow slams her against the wall, his fingers wrapping around her neck. Rukia's eyes widen as her hands instinctively reach for her neck. She's already struggling to breath.

"It makes me–" The Hollow leans in close, brushes his nose against the back of her ear. "It makes me want to destroy you."

Rukia chokes out some laughter. "You will neverbe able to destroy me."

The Hollow smiles in response.

"That sounds like a challenge."

It's not, she wants to say, but the Hollow tightens his grip on her neck. Rukia feels her windpipe narrow. Way of destruction, number four, she thinks instead, and through the dark spots that's starting to mar her vision, she reaches up and presses her index finger to the Hollow's temple, byakurai.

The Hollow doesn't even have the time to blink before he collapses to the ground.

"I've always been better at kidou," Rukia croaks out.

Lying unconscious on the ground, Rukia thinks that Ichigo is back. It's the only conclusion that she can have that explains her actions: why she's kneeling on the ground beside him, cradling his head on her lap as she absently runs a thumb over the singed skin beside his ear.

Eyes are the windows to the soul, Rukia thinks, and it's somehow fitting – in a way that makes her want to laugh hysterically – that the eyes are literally the only thing that helps her tell Ichigo and the Hollow apart.

It's only when he stirs that Rukia realizes that she didn't expect him to get back up.

"Ichigo," she says, disbelieving, before her mind kicks in and her heart rate picks up and– "Ichigo," she repeats, this time more frantically. "Ichigo, you have to wake up, you jackass, get up–"

Ichigo opens his eyes, and though he seems disoriented, Rukia's so relieved that she can almost cry.

In fact, she thinks she does.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers, and oh God, she hurt him, she stabbed Ichigo, his arm is still bleeding and – and she sent lightning into his brain he must be in so much pain– "I'm so–"

Rukia can't continue, so instead she surges forward and kisses him, bites his lower lip and runs her fingers through his hair. She feels the warmth seep into her skin through the cloth of her nightgown when Ichigo's hands find their place on her hips.

"I'm so sorry," she says again, breathless between kisses. She kisses his cheeks, his chin, his forehead and his eyes before finding his lips again. "I'm sorry but you know what, it'll be okay now, it'll be okay–"

And it will be, thinks Rukia, because she's strong and Ichigo's strong and there's no way that the Hollow could have survived such close contact with White Lightning and made it out alive.

But then a pained sound comes from Ichigo's throat and Rukia's being pushed away. She stares in distant confusion as Ichigo tries to get up and away from her, saying, "Rukia, bind me, get Byakuya, do something, quick–"

She stands up.

Ichigo's eyes are screwed shut in concentration, murmuring, "Rukia, Rukia, Rukia," and it takes all of a moment for Rukia to understand. She wishes she didn't, but Ichigo – she understands Ichigo.

She understands him, and this knowledge somehow calms whatever turmoil was inside of her just a moment before.

Rukia places a hand on his cheek.

His eyes snap open, and it's Ichigo. He looks as close to scared as she's ever seen him, pleading to her silently to fix it, fix him.

There's nothing to fix, she wants to say. It's not his fault. It's not her fault. It's – it's everything else, it's this impossible situation they're in – but it's not them. It's not their fault. Rukia can say this with every confidence because she knows him, she knows herself, and after decades of being together, Rukia knows that she understands them.

"Rukia," he says, and then he closes his eyes again. "Quickly – I can't – hurry, please, God, I'm so sorry, but I can't hold on–"

"It'll be okay," she promises. She will make it okay, and Ichigo must hear some of the conviction in her voice because somehow, he manages to turn his mouth into the barest of smiles. "Way of binding, number sixty-one," says Rukia, "rikujokoro."

Her brother won't let her see Ichigo.

Byakuya sits in his office at the manor, looking at Rukia over a low table scattered with official papers waiting for his review. But he's not paying attention to them, his gaze focused solely on Rukia, who's kneeling in front of him on the opposite side of the desk. She's dressed in her uniform, Sode no Shiroyuki tucked neatly at her side.

She's not going to move until she gets what she wants.

"Nii-sama, I have never shown you anything but utmost respect, but this time. This time you mustlet me visit him. Keeping him isolated will only make him believe that he's done something wrong."

Ichigo is bound somewhere amongst the many secret rooms in the Kuchiki Manor. Byakuya administered the spells himself, both to constrain him and cloak his reiatsu. From what Rukia understands, Byakuya and Ichigo talked for a long time before Ichigo had passed out from sheer mental exhaustion, but Byakuya refuses to tell Rukia anything beyond the basics: that Ichigo had come to Byakuya voluntarily, and that physically, he will be fine.

But that's not good enough for Rukia, and Byakuya's seeming impartiality on the matter only fuels her frustration further.

"You must understand how important this is," she says, and right now, she's not pleading, she's not asking for his permission. She is telling him what needs to be done. "Nii-sama, you have given me everything, but this is one demand that I–"

Byakuya raises a hand to gesture to her to stop, and Rukia complies. He looks as tired as Rukia feels. "It is not about me, Rukia. It is about him. He does not wish to see you."

It's not the response she was hoping for, but it's a start.

"Of course he does not want to see me, but that is exactly why I must see him. I may not have talked to him for days, but I know how he is thinking. He is blaming himself for something that was not his fault, trapped by misplaced guilt–"

A noise escapes Byakuya's throat. It's not an undignified sound – if there's one thing Rukia's learned over the years, it's that Kuchiki Byakuya is the height of decorum and can make anything seem elegant – but it's not a composed one, either. Rukia is surprised enough to cut herself off.

"The guilt," he says, voice tight, "the guilt is not misplaced." His eyes are lingering at her neck, where the bruises have faded into a pale yellow. "I understand his position, but you cannot think for an instance that I do not agree with his decision."

"I understand what you are feeling, but that does not change my decision on the matter."

This is the most rebellion that Rukia has shown Byakuya in all the years she has known him. Not because she is a coward, but because she has simply never felt the need to. He wants what's best for her, she knows, and Rukia wants what's best for her as well.

And right now, what's best for her is to find Ichigo. Talk to him. Tell him that she's here, that it's okay.

"Ichigo is the most honourable man you know," she says. "You know what is happening, you know why it is happening – you knowwhat the logical response is."

Byakuya looks away from her eyes for the first time. Rukia watches his gaze settle on one of the many small potted plants that tastefully line the windowsills, the green leaves shining almost white under the bright streams of sunlight.

And then he slowly says, "For many years before your wedding – perhaps even before the beginning of your romantic relationship – I have known that Kurosaki Ichigo would be the man you would one day marry."

Rukia understands why Byakuya is focusing his attention on the plant. Though he isn't looking at her, her gaze automatically lowers to her lap. From discomfort or awe or humility, she doesn't quite know. Her heart feels curiously heavy.

"And I have always been content with that fact," he continues, his long fingers lying still on the wooden table top. "I have failed you in many ways, but it gave me peace to know that he never would. You are right when you say that he is the most worthy person I know."

Rukia raises her eyes and just a moment later, Byakuya tilts his head towards her. Her breathing starts to feel shallower, and she has to blink away the wetness that has started to appear in her eyes.

"But despite this knowledge, I find that when it comes to you, I seldom act in a manner that most would consider rational."

"Nii-sama," she whispers, and now, blinking isn't enough. Rukia closes her eyes, takes a deep calming breath.

The Kuchikis don't do physical displays of affection or verbal confirmation of love. Certainly not Byakuya and Rukia, who are both reserved people by nature.

But now – Rukia doesn't hesitate in reaching out and resting her hand on top of Byakuya's own. She squeezes his fingers as a pale gesture of understanding and comfort, something she would never dare to in any other situation because he's her superior in every way.

"You are more than just my brother." Her voice is quiet but strong. "And even that, I do not know what I did to deserve. You are my hero. I would die for you, I would live for you, I would–" She chokes on her words, disbelieving the depth of the sincerity behind them. "I would not hesitate to kill for you. I love and care for you more than you can possibly imagine. You – you are the family I dreamt of as a child."

Byakuya holds her gaze. The sunlight makes his pupils look bright, like the reflection of stars on dark river water.

"But Ichigo." She takes a moment to think about him, about the man who runs his finger through her hair when they lie down to sleep, who calls her a "temperamental bitch" and "short little freak"; she thinks about Ichigo, who makes tea every evening and pulls her foot on his lap as he reads. "You must understand that I cannot – that I –"

So quietly that Rukia almost misses it, Byakuya whispers, "I would go against each and every soul in this afterlife to keep you from harm, physical or otherwise."

Rukia is hit with it, all of a sudden, this fierce love that she feels for her brother, one of the best people she knows.

"Nii-sama," she says, "take me to him."

Byakuya's fingers gently curl around her own. She suspects that if she just glanced up away from their entangled fingers to see his face, there would be turmoil in his eyes.

But–

"Very well," he says, "but I will be right outside that door."

When Rukia finally sees Ichigo, he's sitting in a wooden room with no windows and torches lining the wall. There are beams of light surrounding his waist, locking him in the spot.

She shuts the door behind her as she enters. He's mediating, sitting cross-legged and breathing deeply, and the air gets stuck in Rukia's throat.

"Hey," she says, as she walks up to him. Ichigo opens his eyes and gives her a small grin. He looks peaceful in a way that reminds her of that day, so many years ago: the two of them standing on an open field, the summer breeze ruffling her hair and the long blades of grass brushing against her ankle, and Ichigo, looking at her as though he wanted every happiness for her, wherever she might find it.

It's not what she expected. But she's never been more relieved to have been wrong.

His voice is quiet when he replies. "Hey."

Rukia kneels down in front of him so that their eyes are level, hands resting on her knees.

She wants to say that she's happy to see him, that she's happy to see that he's doing so well. There are so many things wrong right now, but she wants Ichigo to know that their relationship will never break no matter how much it strains. Whatever choice he makes, Rukia trusts him enough to support him implicitly.

"What are you doing here, Ichigo?" she asks instead because she is the type of woman who gets straight to the point. She understands his actions, she really does, she'd probably do the same herself – but that doesn't stop her from being angry.

It's the type of irrational anger that comes from fear and anxiety, the type that she can push aside if a desperate situation calls for it. But Ichigo looks fine, and that untangles the knot of tension within her, the one that tells her that Ichigo's well being comes first and foremost.

"Don't be mad," he says, and he has the audacity to say it in a joking tone. But, perhaps instigated by her glare, he adopts a more sombre demeanour as he continues, "You know what I'm doing."

Rukia purses her lips. "I want to hear you say it."

"I needed to take care of this before I can come home again," he says, confirming what Rukia already knew. "This went on for longer than it had to. I would've done this the first time if Urahara hadn't been such a secretive fucker–"

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to go inside and fight him," says Ichigo and his voice is so firm that the moment he says it, Rukia knows that even if she wanted to, she couldn't convince him otherwise. "It's never been done before, I don't know what that'll mean for me if a part of my soul gone – but I have to do this. I can't take the risk–"

He stops, closes his eyes and takes a long, calming breath. A frowns appears on his forehead.

"I can't risk hurting you again."

"Didn't it occur to you to talk to me about this?" she demands. "You – you bastard." There is no fear or anxiety this time. She is pissed off. "You know that I'd want to know about this. You know that I'd get it! I was messed up, you asshole, thinking you were going crazy and you were just sitting here! Meditating! Meditating! Did you even take a second to think about what I was going through?" Rukia can see Ichigo getting angrier with each word she says but she doesn't stop. "I want to throttle you."

"Hey," he snaps back, "do you think that I decided to come to Byakuya – your goddamn brother – about something that wasn't freaking me out? Of course I know that you'd get it but this is something that you shouldn't have to. God, Rukia, I wasn't in control of my body – do you know how that makes me feel? That my hands – my hands– were choking–"

"That wasn't you. That wasn't you more than it was me throwing white lightning–"

Ichigo quietly laughs, but there's nothing funny about it.

"I know that. But knowing it doesn't make it any better. It still happened and I was so damn angry, you have no idea, when I found out that there was a way to get rid of this and no one told me before. And can't you see? Can't you see why I had to do this? By myself, without telling you? I have too much shit going on and you were getting caught up in too and I wasn't–"

Rukia reaches forward and grabs his hand.

"I'm your wife," she says, squeezing his fingers tight. "I chose to become Kurosaki Rukia. And even if I kept my name as Kuchiki, even if we never got married – even if I simply stayed as Rukia– I'll always be your family."

Here, her voice sounds hoarser. "And family takes the shit that goes on in your life. That's what they're there for. Not to give you hugs and tell you that everything's going to be okay, but to be there, no matter what. You're supposedto let me help you shoulder your burdens–"

"Not this one," cuts in Ichigo. "Rukia, the only reason I survived this long is because you were there to kick my ass every time things got too much for me. But not this." Ichigo wets his dry lips, lips that Rukia hadn't realized were cracked until now. "This is something I can never let you near because you deserve–"

"If you say better," says Rukia, the breaths entering her body suddenly shallower and more frequent, "if you say something like more or better I'm going to punch you in the face, Kurosaki. You are everything, more than everything, you are the best thing–"

"Not yet," says Ichigo. "I want to be the best thing, and that's why I have to do this."

Rukia laughs shakily because – of course, of course Ichigo is the perfect paradox, displaying self-deprecation and self-determination in equal amounts. She doesn't know if there's a way that she can love and care for this man more than she does right then.

But there's so much more she has to tell him.

"You could die from this," she says, even though Ichigo hasn't said anything for her to state something so plainly. But from the way the corners of Ichigo's mouth tighten, she knows that she's right. "That's why no one wanted tell you about it. Because you could die. And that's exactly why you should have told me when you found out because you dying–" Just saying it makes her hurt, somewhere deep inside. "You dying is not an option."

Ichigo's thumb is moving absently along her knuckles.

"With what we do," he says, "fighting monsters to protect these souls who finally deserve some peace in the afterlife, dying–"

"Do not say that dying is always a risk," interrupts Rukia, and Ichigo's immediately stops talking. "This is not an ego boost, this is fact. You are Kurosaki Ichigo and there is nothing out there that can defeat you. Unless you can swear to me that that you will be coming back–"

"I wouldn't be doing this, any of this, if I didn't have a reason to come out of this in one piece." He's looking at her, right into her, and his voice is strong when he says, "I'll do this and I'll come back alive. I promise."

"You better be keeping that," she says, and she tugs him closer, kisses him on the lips. A satisfied sound escapes Ichigo's throat, as though he has been waiting for this. She's kneeling on his lap, his face tilted up and cradles between her hands. His palms travel up the backs of her thighs and travel across her arms and shoulder before finally settling n the dip of her waist.

It's just a kiss, it's such a kiss, a full bodied experience that Rukia's certain if Ichigo wasn't bound to the spot, it would progress to something more within the next two minutes.

But as it is, Ichigo is bound to the spot and her brother is right outside. She pulls away reluctantly, and can't help but smirk when Ichigo groans.

"Oh come on," he says. "You can't do that."

"After this is done," she promises, "we'll take some time off, go to the living world. And once we're there, we won't leave the hotel room for an entire week. It'll be fantastic. In fact, it'll be so great that it'll make your birthday a few years back seem like holding hands on the beach. In daylight."

Ichigo glares. "Not helping."

"Only providing some incentive," she grins, but Ichigo must catch the sly edge to it because his eyes widen and he says, "I don't know why I put up with you. You're such a bitch."

Rukia laughs, and yes, the apprehension is still there, hanging ominously overhead, but there is a light feeling as well.

Its happiness and it's warming every part of her.

They kiss again, and it's long and deep and sweet. She can feel the way Ichigo's lips are forming into an instinctive smile. She's pretty sure that pulling away a few moments before was pointless because her hands are already trailing up the bare skin of his back and his are slipping under her hakama and teasing the fabric of her underwear.

Rukia can't get enough of him right then, and she's pretty sure that Ichigo feels the same, so it's startling when he suddenly stops and pushes her away.

Rukia lands on the ground with a thump. She stares at Ichigo in confusion, and feels like she just slammed into a wall when she sees that his eyes are screwed up in concentration, his hands clamping around his knees.

"You should go," he manages to say. "Go, Rukia. I'll see you soon."

Rukia takes a look at his white knuckles and nods. She stands up, smoothing her hair and fixing her clothes. She wants to do something like kiss his forehead before she leaves, but Ichigo doesn't want her to be near him right now, and underneath her turmoil of emotions, the logical part of Rukia agrees with his decision.

But her heart still thuds heavily in her chest as she says, "Good luck," and by the end of that night, over half of her home is frozen, broken, or covered in shards of ice.

When it happens, Rukia literally feels it in the air.

She's in the thirteenth Division's headquarters, taking care of a discrepancy with the paperwork about a mission in Rukongai that took place last week. She is just leaving the captain's office when there is an explosion of reiatsu, so overwhelming that it must be Ichigo's, knocking her to the ground and making it difficult for her to breathe.

It lasts for only a few minutes, and Rukia has her eyes closed the entire time. The heels of her palms are pressed against her ears, to try and stop it from bleeding because the spiritual pressure – it's too immense. It's crushing and twisting her organs, trying to compress her into a tiny ball and Rukia knows that the shinigami around her are feeling the same.

From beyond the walls her hands create, Rukia can hear them screaming.

But what's more terrifying is how little by little, the voices fade away.

Ichigo's spiritual presence is such ferocious raw energy that Rukia is certain that even the souls at the outer rings of Rukongai can feel its weight. It's impossible to breathe, impossible to move.

And then, as sudden as its appearance, the pressure vanishes.

Rukia vomits, her body not able to adjust so quickly to the shift in the environment's equilibrium. She's one of the lucky ones, still being aware. She can see many of the other souls lying unconscious on the courtyard, and there is an eerie silence all throughout Seireitei.

She may not know what was supposed to happen, no one does, but Rukia's certain that this wasn't it.

Rukia stands up, tries to flashstep to Kuchiki Manor but it's as though her reiatsu short circuited: she barely manages a few feet before collapsing, and even then she traveled north instead of her intended west. It's difficult for her to even think straight.

And she is cold. She is distantly aware of her heart beating rapidly trying to pump as much blood throughout her body as possible, but it's simply not reaching the tips of her fingers and toes.

But she has to get to Ichigo. It doesn't matter that her insides feel like slush and that she can barely stand up straight. Something isn't right with Ichigo, and Rukia has to get to him.

So she starts to walk. And she keeps walking, perhaps for hours.

There is a strange aura surrounding Kuchiki Manor. Rukia can't quite place what it is that feels so off, the stillness of the leaves or the distinct lack of chirping birds, but something's definitely there: a feeling of such utter wrongness that Rukia feels nausea sweeping through her once more.

"Nii-sama," she calls out in a scratchy voice, stepping into the polished wooden tiles of her brother's home and looking past the servants that lay unconscious on the floor. She doesn't need to see them right now, not when she is barely standing herself. "Ichigo. Nii-sama."

There is no answer.

But then again, it isn't like she was expecting one.

Whatever few details are available about what would happen today, Rukia knows better than she does her Kuchiki family history: every captain would be present, Ichigo would go into a trance of some sort and focus on getting to a plane within himself where both he and the Hollow can exist in relative corporeality, and then all that was left to do was for everyone to hope for the best possible outcome.

Perhaps it's being a bit too cautious, having the thirteen most powerful beings in Soul Society in one room. But Rukia knows that each and every shinigami is aware of Ichigo's massive spiritual strength, and when it comes to Kurosaki Ichigo, the world has learned that there's no such thing as too much preparation.

Rukia reaches the room where Ichigo has been staying at the moment Byakuya steps out, shutting the door shut behind him.

For the brief instance that there was an opening, when the door and the wall were two separate entities with space in between, Rukia had felt it. Not an overwhelming, all encompassing pressure, but a constant pulse of reiatsu that had vibrated through her body, lifting up the small hairs on her arms and the back of her neck.

But as soon as the door closes, the air becomes as still and dead as the air outside.

"You should not be here," says Byakuya. He idly wipes the tiny beads of sweat that has gathered at his hairline before looking at her with a crease between his eyebrows. "It is dangerous to be around him right now. He is not at a constant state."

"No, I had to be here. I felt it, a few hours ago." Her throat feels parched and Rukia has to take a moment and allow her saliva to moisten the passage. "What is happening to him?"

Byakuya looks as concerned as she has ever seen him. It's not something that would be noticeable to many: Rukia's almost certain that besides herself, only Renji and perhaps Ichigo can discern the tightness on the corners of his lips and the hard edge to his eyes.

"We are not sure. Urahara Kisuke was invited to the manor to supervise today's happenings, and though he has his theories, we will not know anything until he comes back. As it is, the other captains and I are rotating shifts to maintain a shield around him in order to contain his erratic reiatsu."

Rukia listens to his words, but only a specific phrase registers fully in her mind.

"Nii-sama," she asks urgently, "what do you mean when Ichigo comes back? What is wrong with him?"

Byakuya exhales the softest of sighs before looking to his right, where the entrance to the gardens lay beyond the wide expanse of the porch.

"He has previously discussed the logistics with you. Theoretically, his – I suppose the best word for this would be his consciousness – is no longer with us. He is somewhere within his own mind, his own soul – a paradox before today I would not have though possible as his corporeal form right now ishis soul – but the instability he is experiencing is having an effect out here. We are not sure what caused the unravelling of all the seals that were put upon him, but – Rukia."

At the sound of her name, Rukia's attention snaps back to her brother, mortified that her focus had wandered from such an important discussion. She blinks, bringing Byakuya's form back into clarity.

"You are not well," he says, frowning as he places the back of his hand against her forehead. "Your body is overheated. You need rest and get rehydrated. Where are all the aides?"

"They are all unconscious," informs Rukia, and lets Byakuya ease her gently to the ground until he is kneeling in front of her and she's resting her back against the wall. "Ichigo's energy could be felt all the way to the outer fringes of Seireitei, and I am certain it went even further. It interfered with my normal reiatsu patterns and even the basic kidou spells are not working for me. I had to physically walk here – and."

Rukia closes her eyes, runs a shaky hand through her hair. "God, the other shinigami. Nii-sama, on my way here there were so many of them just lying there. Only about one in fifteen were standing and–"

She's having difficulty breathing. Byakuya's frown deepens.

"Do not concern yourself with matters outside of your control," he says, his voice so sure and strong that Rukia finds herself nodding, then tensions in her body relaxing almost immediately. "I will get some water and then you must lie down."

That sounds like a wonderful suggestion. Rukia can feel her body start to shut down, physical exhaustion combined with the unsettlement of her spiritual core. But then she remembers–

"No." She struggles to stand up. "I must be here when Ichigo is done. Or if something goes wrong–"

"You may rest near here," Byakuya allows, "but that is it. I give you my word that I will come to retrieve you the moment anything changes. Is that agreeable?"

Rukia swears that there is a hint of a smile on Byakuya's face. Perhaps she is more in need of respite than she had expected.

But it's as she's looking at him that she notices: the wetness of his hair, how a few drops of sweat are slowly sliding down the side of his face despite his lack of physical exertion over the last few minutes.

"Nii-sama," she says, worry sweeping through her as she realizes, "you were right next to him when it happened. You felt the full burnt of the release of energy."

"Do not concern yourself," he dismisses, and when Rukia opens her mouth to argue, he continues in a gentler tone, "I am fine, Rukia. All the captains were there as well and though we were affected, our combined presence made it easier to stabilize our centres and manifest the shield. Kurosaki may be unfathomably powerful, but he is still not the equivalent to twelve of Soul Society's finest."

Despite herself, Rukia smiles. "However much he might like to believe."

"Too true." He accompanies her to a bedroom a few feet away from Ichigo's room and stays until she finishes an apple and a glass of water.

It's not until later, when she's on the verge of unconsciousness, that Rukia realizes that Byakuya was trying to ease her mind and make her laugh. And though he answered everything she asked, he never once told her that Ichigo was doing alright, that he was going to be okay.

But then again, Kuchiki Byakuya was never one for lies.

Rukia wakes up when she is hit with a second explosion of reiatsu. But this time, the pressure lasts for a fraction of a second. It's a singular pulse, muted and almost gentle, the energy passing through instead of surrounding her. She sits up with a gasp, her blood tingling in her fingers and heart beating erratically, even though the moment has already come and passed.

And Rukia knows that it's over.

There is a tired smile on Ichigo's face when Rukia bursts into the windowless room. He is holding himself up with his zanpakutou, his feet are bare, his hair is unkempt and he is covered with dirt and sweat but – his eyes. Ichigo's eyes are warm and brown and beautiful, like rich soil after a rainfall or the bark of a darkwood tree at sundown.

She has always associated Ichigo with the earth, providing strength and stability, comfort and love, a presence so vast and overwhelming that she doesn't think she can ever truly get enough. And right now she is overwhelmed, so much so that she can do nothing but stare, drinking in the sight of Ichigo who is exhausted but alive.

So alive, in fact, that he manages to shoot her a cocky grin and say, "Told you I'd come back."

Rukia lets out a choked laugh.

She takes one step forward, then another, and then as many more as she needs until she's close enough to wrap her arms around his wider frame and hold on tight. Normally, Rukia barely reaches his chest, but with Ichigo bent down and folding himself around her, her chin now rests on his shoulder.

His entire weight is leaning against her, and Rukia's not sure how she's managing to hold him up. She thinks it has little to do with her physical strength and more to do with the feel of Ichigo's warmth seeping into her skin and the feeling of his fingers pressing into her hair.

"You should say something," says Ichigo, lips moving against her neck. "Like tell me to stand up before I topple over and crush your tiny body."

"Can I tell you to shut the hell up and give me this for a second?"

Ichigo's reply was quiet. "Of course."

Eventually Rukia pulls away, doesn't look away from Ichigo's bright eyes as she runs her fingers all over his eyes and lips and forehead, checking for any damage. She's surprised but grateful to see that everything seems to be in working order.

"You're still in one piece," she says, gently pushing him until his back is against the wall. She mimics his movements as he slides down, shuffles in close and kisses him long and deep and sweet. Rukia feels weary and happy and hopeful all at once and she can feel that, combined with what happened earlier with Ichigo's reiatsu start to drain her once more. "Can't ask for anything more with someone like you."

"What can I say, I was made to live life on the edge of danger," says Ichigo and Rukia grins because it's true, no matter how she sometimes wishes otherwise. "Lucky the other captains left before you got here. Wouldn't want your brother to catch an eyeful of what we really get up to in our–"

"Quiet."

Ichigo laughs and it's a tired sound.

"You need to rest," says Rukia firmly, pushing the damp hair out of Ichigo's eyes and resting her hand against his cheek. "There's a room just down the hallway where I was just at."

"Or we can just stay here," suggests Ichigo, tilting his head back so that it's propped against the wall.

His eyes are drooping and he looks rumpled and soft, like he really needs to get into bed or he has just come out of it. Ichigo isn't one to often look vulnerable, but in this moment he is as open as Rukia has ever seen him, and it causes something inside of her to soften. "Or we can do that," she gently agrees.

And Ichigo falls asleep, just like that, sitting up and leaning against the wall with his arms still wrapped around Rukia who is sitting curled up on his lap. Rukia wonders how she got here, to this place, so in love and comforted by a singular presence that she feels no nervousness or anxiety being in such an intimate hold with another person.

She just feels the steady rhythm of her heart beating inside her ribcage, slightly out of step with Ichigo's.

It's not until later, after a day of bickering and fussing and secret smiles and kisses, when they are back in their home that Rukia sees that everything had not gone as smoothly as she had hoped.

Ichigo is just about to pull on a t-shirt, his arms already in the sleeves. It's an ancient thing with tears and holes and the colour faded from blue to gray. It's the first time that they're getting the opportunity to change out of their clothes, and it takes Rukia only a second to see the large mark on Ichigo's back.

"What happened here?" She frowns, reaching forward to gently touch the section of black and blue etched onto Ichigo's skin and Ichigo flinches away. It takes up almost half of his upper body, from just below his shoulder blades to the dip of his back.

Ichigo turns around to face her and Rukia sees that the bruise carries over to the front of his torso, covering his chest and abdomen. He takes off the shirt and looks just as surprised of its presence as Rukia is.

"I don't know," he says, craning his neck to look at his back and an instinctive urge rises within Rukia to tell Ichigo that he should stop being an idiot because no matter how hard he tries, he simply can't see back there. He turns back to his front. "Holy shit, this is huge."

Rukia's fingers press against his navel. "Does it hurt?"

"Ah." He winces, and Rukia pulls away. However, when Ichigo absently rubs circles on his stomach – at the spot where Rukia touched him, so she supposes it's to ease away the pain – she notices that it doesn't seem to be causing him any discomfort.

"I think it only hurts when someone else is in direct contact with it," muses Ichigo. "I was fine all day. Didn't feel a thing."

Frowning slightly, she says, "It's probably some kind of mark from defeating the Hollow. It was a part of your soul." Ichigo nods. "But we should still see someone tomorrow, just to make sure that everything's okay."

Ichigo must see some distress on her face because he says, "Hey, just cuz it looks badass doesn't mean it'll be bad. Remember how you freaked out over my tattoo? Now you can't get enough of it."

"Somehow, I don't think these two really compare."

But Ichigo's giving her a look, one that she can never say "no" to.

"Fine," she says, pressing her lips into a thin line. "I'll stop freaking out. But we're still going to a medic tomorrow."

"Yeah, sure," says Ichigo, nodding. "It'll be good to see the fourth division guys again. Haven't talked to them in weeks."

And because she refuses to let this new development bring her spirits down, Rukia grins at him and says, "It's been that long since your last life-threatening injury?"

"Hard to believe, right?"

"You never catch a break, do you?"

Ichigo laughs. Any tension that Rukia may have had remaining fades away.

"Not since I met you," agrees Ichigo.

Epilogue

Ichigo's torso isn't the only place that has bruising. A full check-up at the fourth division revealed dark spots along his calves and thighs. But the medics assure that the residual energy present throughout Soul Society would start healing the gaps the Hollow left behind, and sure enough, as the weeks go by, the marks slowly fade away.

Everything's not exactly the same as before: Ichigo has to eat more, and because most of his energy is being used to heal the rifts in his soul, he goes to sleep within hours of arriving home from work. But despite his tired eyes, Ichigo is much happier than he has been for months, and Rukia can't ask for anything more than that.

They decide to make true of Rukia's promise and head off to the living world for some time off. It comes down to a choice between Amsterdam and New York, and like most other dilemmas that rise between them, they settle it with a best-out-of-three game of rock-paper-scissors.

After so many years, Rukia still doesn't understand how she gets suckered into playing each time, when she knows by now that Ichigo always wins. She suspects that he's cheating, but for the life of her she can't figure out how.

"It's because you always go with rock," he explains as they pack for New York. "I told this to you a ton of times, and you still don't change it up. I can't help it if you suck at this."

"How about I throw a rock at you and you try to block it with a piece of paper, hmm?" Rukia's grumbling under her breath. "This is such a stupid game. Why can't we solve our problems with something else? Like Go. I'll kick your ass in Go."

"That's exactly why we'll never make important decisions based on that game."

Rukia glares.

"Fine. But from here on out, we won't be making important decisions based on rock-paper-scissors, either."

The New York summer is hot and humid, with too much rain and too many people. But Rukia still has the most fantastic time there: its one more place in the world that she has now seen and experienced, with its busy nights and even busier days. She has seen the landmarks so famous that word of them have reached even Soul Society; she has bought countless souvenirs and beaded jewellery from street festivals that shut down entire blocks; but the best, most memorable part about this vacation? Spending most of it in bed with Ichigo.

True, it's something that they could have done just as easily at home. But there's something about being at a new place, in a lavish hotel room with room service just a phone call away with only each other for company that instigates a warm, lazy attitude in Rukia. She has no worries or responsibilities, nothing at all that she wants to focus on other than the man beside her.

"One of us should be better about this," says Rukia, closing her eyes and curling in closer to his body. "One of us should be making the other get off their ass."

"Mm, you're right," says Ichigo and playfully shoves Rukia's shoulder with one palm. "Go and make me some breakfast, woman. Can't have you lying around all day when there's so much work to be done."

"So much work," agrees Rukia, pressing her lips idly along Ichigo's jaw, the barest hint of his stubble scraping across her chin. "Where can we possibly start?"

"I've got a few ideas." Ichigo pulls her in so that her knees are on either side of his waist as he remains on his back on the bed. His hands run down her sides and he shoots her a devilish grin. "You can start whenever you want."

Rukia laughs, eyes closed and shoulders shaking.

"Making me do all the work, huh?" But she leans down and pulls him into a long, drawn kiss. "I guess I can take the pressure off of you for one day."

"Knew there was a reason I kept you around."

Her smile is pressed against his mouth.

It's more forceful than normal. They're both fighters in spirit, and there's something exciting and edgy and arousing about kisses with more teeth and tongue than lips. There are also Ichigo's hands which are gripping tightly at her hips, and Rukia's fingers, which are digging into Ichigo's shoulders, nails indenting the skin.

Ichigo rolls them over, and their lower bodies get further tangled between layers of sheets and blankets. It's perfect, thinks Rukia from somewhere in her hazy mind. She pulls almost harshly at his hair as he bites and sucks along the curve of her neck. It's perfect because she's in this complete world with Ichigo, with nothing taking up her thoughts beyond the heat that flares in her belly each time Ichigo's fingers flit over her skin.

They don't speak when they're like this. Because this – this is about letting everything out. Rukia knows that she and Ichigo are kindred souls, who feel deeply and immensely. These are feelings strong enough to tear them apart if kept under wraps for too long. Which is why it's perfect that they're both tough enough to take what the other wants to dish out.

After, when they finally get out of the hotel room, they go to Central Park for the afternoon. They don't bring anything with them beyond Rukia's purse and Ichigo's wallet. The Frisbee they end up throwing around with some of the kids was bought from a tacky cart situated right outside. It's not easy running around the grass in a skirt and sandals, but Rukia has fantastic reflexes, Gigai or not, and she receives every pass that comes her way.

For a late lunch, they buy themselves a couple of hot dogs from a cart. Rukia wanders off to find a place to sit and Ichigo soon settles down beside her. His arm automatically stretches out to rest on the back of the bench, behind her. It's a sunny day, and Rukia has her hair tied up, the warm sunlight falling across the back of her neck.

"This is the best damn hot dog I've had in my entire life," Ichigo says after the first bite. "We should buy a couple more to take back to the hotel. You know, for dinner."

"Ichigo, this is processed meat in a synthetic casing that we bought from a sidewalk." Rukia swallows her own mouthful. She grins. "Yeah, we totally should. Who needs the five-star salmon?"

Ichigo snorts.

"Those things wouldn't fill up an eight year old. And I mean a runty eight year old. Not one of those, twelve-year-old-looking-eight-year-olds. Cuz obviously that little piece of fish wouldn't be enough for them."

"You were one of those, weren't you?" She smiles, all teeth and joy.

"Nah, I was one of those tiny little suckers. Woulda gotten beat up if I wasn't already pummelling 'em to the ground."

Rukia laughs. "I knew you were trouble from the moment I saw you."

"Yeah, but come on, the first time you saw me I was kicking your ass. Of course you thought I was trouble, Tiny." He ruffles her hair to accentuate his statement, and Rukia half-heartedly tries to swipe his hand away.

She'd put in more effort, but the hot dog? It really was just that good.

A comfortable silence falls between then for the next few moments, and Rukia swings her legs as she eats and watches the path of a butterfly fluttering towards a bright dandelion.

The butterfly is vibrant, wings splashed with reds and blues. There are no insects in Soul Society. Rukia thinks about the differences between the creature in front of her and the inky black Hell's Butterflies that exist back home, and can't help but take a moment to appreciate the life around her, from the fresh green of the grass to the sound of cars and laughter in the background.

She feels herself be hit with a sudden bout of nostalgia.

Rukia has been dead since she was a small child, no memories of life outside of Soul Society. Even as a full-fledged shinigami in the living world, she has been living in the fringes, observing time and people pass her by. It wasn't until Ichigo that she actually got to experience what this world had to offer.

Ichigo, who is sitting beside her right now, with his hands stuffed in his pockets and looking contentedly at the sky.

She observes him for a while, the sharp cut of his jaw and the soft hair that curls around his ear. Rukia is so taken with him that she almost misses the quiet, "Hey," that comes out of his mouth.

Her lips automatically quirk up. "Speak a little softer, why don't you."

Ichigo shakes his head in amusement.

"I was just thinking," he says, melting further back against the bench, looking a warm, tousled mess, "that from here on out, it should be easy for us."

Rukia laughs.

"It should be," she agrees. "But probably won't be. I mean, when has it ever been easy for us?"

"Can't remember," admits Ichigo. "But it's still good to think about it. Else I'll lose it one day and end up in a psych ward."

"You're not too far from that, old man," says Rukia, and when Ichigo directs a long-suffering look to the heavens, she pats him on the arm. "But if it helps? I can promise you that we'regoing to be okay." She reaches for one of his hands and twines their fingers together. She holds their joined hands up. "Just like this. Stuck together till one of us finally has enough and wants out."

Ichigo's hold tightens around her fingers. "And when do you think that'll be?"

"We've got a pretty long time to find out." This time, she doesn't pull, and instead gently untangles their hands. But only so she can pull him down for a kiss. "But I don't think we should be getting worried, yet."

Ichigo laughs.

"No," he agrees, "all these years we've known each other – I don't think there was even one day when I didn't want you there with me. Going to school, fighting Hollows, getting married. Can't imagine it ever being anyone else."

A surge of warmth courses through Rukia, and she reaches for one of his arms and secures it around her shoulder. It's a small display of physical affection, but it's natural and comfortable and Rukia all but melts against Ichigo's side.

"Me too," she whispers into his ear.

Rukia has no regrets when she's with him. There are wistful thoughts of what can be and could have been, but on the forefront of her mind is the happiness in the now, and how that is worth everything that was given up to get to this point.

She can do this forever, just sit beside Ichigo and talk about nothing in the noise and everything in the silence. And yes, things may never be easy for them, but at this moment, she can't think of a single thing she wished that had been different.

End