Bleach 1. And The Rain Falls

I know, yet another drabble collection; but I really wanted to give this a try (besides I'm on vacation, and frankly, I don't have much to do.) remember, English isn't my first language, so this is bound to have a lot of mistakes.

**Disclaimer: **Bleach does not belong to me. Sad, but true.

**Bittersweet**

**By: Nekare**

**And The Rain Falls**

He sees her sitting outside the room, watching the rain falling lightly.

The fresh smell of rain surrounds him, but as he goes near her, her characteristic scent of gardenias tugs at his senses. Her eyes are fixed on the water falling on the lush grass, greener with life by the second. Butterflies dance in the fabric of her yukata, a design he had never seen her wear before.

She doesn't turn to him when he sits next to her, but she knows she doesn't have to. Silence expands, but they don't feel uncomfortable. Hitsugaya is having a hard time fighting the smile that wants to break through, his relieve of her being out of danger almost tangible. The smile he keeps to himself out of respect.

"I'd never seen that yukata before." He turns to look at her, and he suddenly wants to keep the image of her in his mind forever.

"Apparently one of the drifters knows hot to sew. He said I needed something to cheer me up." He watches as she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, taking in the chill of the evening.

His throat goes dry, but he has to ask. "Are you allright?" the voice is tinted with hesitation. And neither likes it, because it had always been easy between them, between Bed-wetter Momo and Shirou-chan.

She does turn now, and he stares at her big round eyes that shine with vulnerability. "Do you really need me to answer that?" He is shocked by the bitterness in her voice, a trait she had never possessed before. She holds his gaze for a moment and then returns to stare at the rain outside. He looks at the wooden floor, swearing to himself he'll do anything possible to cast the bitterness out of her.

It doesn't suit her, after all.

A heavy sigh escapes his lips. "I'm here."

"I know." the whisper caresses him, and so does her hair a second later, as she rests her head on his shoulder, not caring for the fact that she's taller than him and the position should be the other way around. "I know."

A/N: I know Hinamori is kinda OOC, but face it, she has just been betrayed be the man she adored/looked up to. So she won't exactly be a happy bunny.


	2. Strawberry

I was bored. And had nothing to read. Thus, I wrote this. Hope you like it!

**Bittersweet**

**By: Nekare**

**Strawberry**

Rukia has never seen anything like it.

The _thing _- for lack of a better term - It's round and cold, and has a weird cookie underneath that is shaped as a cone. Apparently it's endurance isn't very good, for the _thing_ is actually melting, sticky substance sliding slowly towards the floor, gravity pulling it down. Her eyes follow the path down, lips parted and a frown in her face.

And most importantly, the thing is actually _pink_.

"What is this?" Her tone shows the curiosity she has for everything in this world, and it speaks of amazement. Ichigo looks up from his ice cream, watching the way she stares in rapture, and the way her eyes widen every time a new pink drop falls on her hand, her brows coming together in confusion.

"Che, it's just ice cream stupid." She looks at him, and her eyes urge him to tell her more. "Just eat it, ok? Like this." He licks his lemon flavoured ice cream, sour and sweet mixing in his mouth in an explosion of taste. A frown is painted in her face, and she looks from him to her half melted treat and back again. One of his eyebrows is raised, in a clear challenge.

She finally shrugs and tentatively lets her tongue dart out of her mouth and lick slightly the pink surface. Her eyes widen at the sweet taste, sensation filling her mouth. The sweetness is addictive, and she licks again, stronger than before. Her eyes close without her knowledge, and she dives into the sensitive overdrive the mysterious thing offers her.

Ichigo watches her quietly, an amused smile dancing in his lips. It's a while before Rukia finishes the cold dessert, and she still has an expression of content on her face. If she could, she might have purred. The smile vanishes from Ichigo's face as she finally turns to him, a flush that rivals with the color of the ice cream tainting her cheeks.

"Just what was that heavenly thing?" The smile returns – against his will – at her choice of words. It's fleeting however, as he still has a reputation to hold on to.

She doesn't seem to notice. "I told you. Strawberry ice cream. Geez, don't make such a fuzz." A dangerous glint enters her eyes. Dangerous because he knows it won't be good for him, as he's seen it in her face an awful lot of times.

"Strawberry? Like you?" Her voice is dripping with honey, but her eyes speak of mischief.

Ichigo sighs. He knows she'll taunt him to no end.

* * *

A/N: this started innocently enough, but as it was written it started to be more and more pervert-y (is that a word?), but then again maybe it's just my lecherous mind. Oh, and the pronunciation for Ichigo is the same as strawberry in Japanese. 


	3. Window

Plot bunnies are evil. And this one tackled me and left me with little choice but to write this. I really like it anyway, so it's okay. And yay for older!Ichigo.

**Bittersweet**

**By: Nekare**

**Window**

He's twenty-five now, a fine doctor if you listen to some people's words. A sullen young man, say other. A brave man, that would put his own life at stake for a cause he believes in; his friends would say.

Ichigo strolls down the street, a bag of groceries he had received from Mrs.Yamashita with a polite nod hanging from his hand; the other one in his pocket. The sky was burning with the sunset, hues of pink, blue and orange – like the hair he has cursed so many times – bleeding and mingling in the wide sky.

His apartment is visible now, but he stops in front of his father's clinic, his home for so many years. His gaze traveled inevitably to the window in his old room, the window in which he had known the girl – woman, he reminded himself – that had turned his entire world upside down. The glass reflected the colors of the sky, and he half expected a little hand to open it, breeze entering and filling the room, curtains dancing slowly with the wind.

Rukia had always liked to leave the window open.

Maybe it had been the only way for her to lie to herself, to pretend she wasn't in the human world, with no choice but to live in weak body and watch a boy – almost a mere baby in her eyes – fight for her while she waited in the sidelines. After all, the sky was the same as in Soul Society; and as she stared at it – as she did countless times – she could avoid reality and imagine herself back home.

Ichigo had always wanted her to call this place home.

Maybe he had it all wrong, and maybe she only liked the breeze. And maybe, he should have forgotten all about her a long time ago, instead of holding onto her sweet-tasting memory and almost drowning in the safe appearing mystery that she was. He tears his gaze away from the clinic and continues to his apartment, just a few blocks away.

He fumbles for the keys in his back pocket, his mind blank on the task. The door is finally opened, and he enters with a sigh in his lips. The keys are thrown into a nearby chair, and soon his coat follows. He leaves the bag of groceries on the kitchen table, nibbling absentmindly on an apple. The acid taste is still vivid in his mouth when he enters his bedroom, long fingers scratching at his scalp. He looks around, and his eyes widen in surprise.

She's sitting on his window sill, her dark figure cutting the path of the light and small legs hanging outside the four storey building. Rukia turns to him, and he can see the soft smile that is painted on her face. Her eyes speak of silent laughter, glittering in the almost darkness that's starting to fall upon the town.

A moment passes, and he is capable of speech once again. "Took you long enough." His tone is harsh, but he knows she'll see through it. She always has.

"Sorry. I got lost." She smiles again, and his scowl disappears to show the rare smile only Rukia has ever seen. They stare at each other, and the darkness falls.

* * *

And everything goes back to normal as soon as Ichigo realizes she has drawn hideous bunnies in all of his bedroom walls with a permanent marker. 


	4. Ribbons

I was baffled when I saw how many hits I had. So truly, thank you for the 290 hits. It means a lot to me to know people are actually reading this so thank you so much, even I you're reviewing or not!

I like this, and at the same time not. I love H/H so whatever. I'm going away for the weekend to a stupid family reunion (I'm being dragged, to be honest) so I'd be thrilled to find a comment when I get back. But, well, I guess that's up to you.

This is probably a few years before the manga, when both of them are already in the Gotei-13 but they're still really low seated shinigami.

**Bittersweet**

**By: Nekare**

**Ribbons **

The little girl turned to his stoic companion, a smile brightening her face in the glow of the rising sun. Her eyes were swimming with mirth and her arms were outstretched as if to catch more of the warmth the new day offered. The ribbons holding up her hair were twirling around her as she jumped happily; air and momentum making them fly freely, surrounding her in a dance of bright colors.

He was staring.

And somehow, Hitsugaya couldn't make himself to look away from her figure as her laugh floated in the air and her feet made water jump high, light making the drops turn into reflecting gems in mid air.

Hinamori stretched a hand towards him. "Isn't it wonderful Shirou-chan?" He couldn't help but melt a little with the sweetness in her voice. Really, one day so much sweet would be the end of her.

Or at least, he'd have a massive toothache. Not that he minded, of course.

The sun had finally risen, and the hues of pink and orange - the same shades of her ribbons, he noted - had receded into a pale blue painted with cotton candy clouds. They were standing by a brook, in her childish desire to wake up at an indecent hour to go watch the brake of dawn. He could have said no. He could have told her to go by herself. So why was he here? Because he couldn't bear to deny her anything.

The fresh scent of nature was carried in the wind, pine perfume impregnating their clothes. She started to dance to a song only she could hear, ankle deep in the water. They weren't naïve children anymore, yet they allowed themselves to appear as such. They were already at the Gotei-13, and their hands knew the weight of a sword; yet they allowed themselves to pretend the stench of blood was nothing compared to the wise-smelling forest. For even if they wouldn't admit it, they _were_ still children.

Her merry laughter filled the silent clearing, birds flying from their nests. A smile tugged at his lips. "Yes, Momo. It's wonderful." She grinned at him for a moment, noticing his little smile. An aqua colored ribbon fell on her shoulders, and he had the sudden urge to push it back. She took advantage of his distraction when she grabbed his hand – with a strong grip, since she was still a shinigami – and pulled him to her, forcing him to participate in her wet dance (and to be honest, he didn't fight that much).

Sweetness was going to be the end of her.

She was going to be his.


	5. Dense

To Kaeru Soyokaze, who gave me this wonderful idea. Thank you!

Well, I'm back again. I'm not entirely sure if I like this or not, but I really wanted to write something, so this came out.

I'm going to the beach with my friends for a week (yay!) so I'd be thrilled to find reviews when I get back home! (Bats eyelashes) pretty please? And on the same topic: you can do it people! We're almost in the 1000 hit! Go! Go!

**Bittersweet**

**By: Nekare**

**Dense**

"You sure are dense, aren't you?" Matsumoto's voice drifted to her ears, the patronizing tone latent in her voice.

"What are you talking about?" The wide eyed girl turned her head to look at the ample-chested shinigami, confused about the turn in the conversation. Hinamori had come to the 10 th division headquarters for a chat with her childhood friend, an habit that had started long before Aizen's betrayal. Hitsugaya had been training, though, so she had sat under the shade of a cherry tree and settled to wait for him in the cooling breeze. The older woman had joined her in the flat rock, letting her feet touch the water of the flower covered pond; obviously at ease with the place. Hinamori hadn't felt confident enough to do the same, and just stared at the way the fish would bite lightly on her fellow vice captain toes.

"Isn't it obvious? About Hitsugaya-taichou, of course." Rangiku said as she splashed water with her feet. Her eyes were on his captain, whose eyes were straying in their direction in a not so subtle way. His silver hair disheveled with the evening wind, and it seemed that he wasn't able to do a single kata, something in his mind other than his beloved sword.

"What about Shirou-chan?" Hinamori said with her brows together in confusion, and Matsumoto had to swallow – not that it worked, mind you – the giggles fluttering in her throat at the pet name. She took a deep breath to get her wits in order.

"That he's head over heels in love with you, that's what." Silence ensued. As if on cue, Hitsugaya stared at them – at the soft spoken girl, actually, but he would never admit it – curiously, probably wondering why the chattering had stopped. Hinamori held his gaze, and suddenly, started laughing softly, head tilted down and gaze lost in the cherry trees branches, in bloom but not; still early in the season.

The reaction wasn't exactly what Matsumoto had expected, but she let her laugh freely, a sound everybody who knew her had missed since the 5 th divition captain had betrayed them all. "I'm sorry Rangiku-san, but I don't think you're right."

"You don't?" Rangiku almost sighed with exasperation as the girl shook her head with a smile. Hitsugaya had finally finished his training – or the lack of it, thereof – and was starting to come towards them. Hinamori stood up, and after waving to him, turned to Matusumoto.

"No. But I do know he loves me, so that's enough." She laughed a little at the disbelief written on the other vice-captain face, and waved it off. "Have a good evening Rangiku-san."

With that the raven-haired girl ran to her short friend, warm smile on her lips and a few flowers caught in her hair; leaving the elder woman alone with her thoughts. She watched the way the girl caught her friend's hand in hers, and dragged him along before he could say something about it; and soon the stoic boy would be smiling slightly too, stealing glances at her laughing face every now and then as he followed her (anywhere, actually, anywhere she wanted to go) to one of her spontaneous (and slightly infamous, for she always managed to get them lost) walks.

_Dense indeed,_ thought Rangiku as she rolled her eyes to the bright blue sky.


	6. Cold

For Kanami, for being a sweetheart and giving me this idea! (perdon por tardar tanto)

The ending was a bit rushed, so maybe I'll revise it later. thank you for your reviews! (and remember, their food for the soul of this poor authoress).

**Bittersweet**

**By: Nekare**

**Cold**

To say Renji felt like crap was an understatement.

He had been helping Rukia with her swordsmanship, the one subject in the academy she wasn't getting top grades at; when a sudden downpour had began, getting them both soaked to the bones in a matter of seconds. They both had run for cover, hair getting trapped on low branches and clothes getting ragged; looking desperately for a dry spot in the wet and muddy lands that seemed deserted and tainted gray with the strong rain.

They had found nothing but a rabbit's hole, and Rukia, being the little mouse Renji called her – even if it usually meant to be kicked – had slithered in it, leaving the sour-tempered red-head with no choice but to remain wet and cold on the open, screaming how bad a friend she was when she wouldn't share the same unfortunate fate, every few minutes, getting angrier every time he could hear a chuckle coming from the petite girl hideout.

So neither of them were surprised when Renji awoke the next day with the worst cold he ever remember having.

Rukia had laughed at him, calling him a whiney just as she ducked the pillow he had thrown her way.

He had spent the entire day in bed, drifting in and out from consciousness, barely aware that he had a fever; familiar faces passing right beside him just to fade the next second, his throat hoarse from calling them. By the time night fell he had managed to stay awake for half an hour straight, even if his face was still flushed with sickness and his hair wet with cold sweat. The wooden panel door on his side was partially open, letting him see a part of the nocturne sky, and patches of the moon. Out of sheer boredom, he started to concoct a maddening story of a guy walking on the pale surface of it, lunar dust getting caught on his hero's hair.

He was still staring at the moon when Rukia stopped by for a visit. He sent her on a guilt trip for his sickness, telling her over and over again how everything was her fault. And damn it, but it felt good to let it all out. She retaliated of course, but everyone could see her heart wasn't in the fight. So they fell silent, Rukia apologizing silently as she wiped his sweaty forehead with a wet cloth; since she would be caught dead before telling him directly the words 'I'm sorry'. And Renji let her, so that meant she was forgiven. He told her his crazy story of the man living on the moon, and they laughed together.

And suddenly, as they both gazed at the white light in the dark sky, and enlarged his tale; he realized he didn't feel as crappy.

And well, life (and wasn't that ironical?) could wait a little while.


	7. Torture

A tribute to the greatest Celeste1, who managed to make me love these characters. For some strange reason, I woke up today with the urge to write Yumichika, but when I tried it turned somewhat angsty and really lame, so I started over and this came out. Hope you like it!

Thanks to everyone who has read this story, and special thanks to those who actually reviewed. Keep on doing it, 'cause I'm one review whore.

**Bittersweet**

**By: Nekare**

**Torture**

It is a fine day. The birds chirp their endless song, full of mirth and happiness and all things nice. Blue sky is tinted with pristine white clouds, not a piece of gray marring the fluffy mix of gases and water steam. The sounds of children playing can be heard through the tall wall that encloses the part of Soul Society reserved for shinigami only, and the noises from anxious students can be heard from the academy. It is a fine day.

It is a fine day to torture someone.

So Yumichika hums to himself as he approaches the head quarters of the ninth division, a picnic basket hanging from his arm, moving in time with the rhythm of the song. He waves at familiar people as he passes by, a smile so perfect it could only have been practiced on the mirror – a fact everyone usually tries to ignore, as the fifth seat likes to think no one knows of his little secret; well, that and the point that he uses wigs with regularity.

There's always a gift for the guards at the doors, most often that not some delicate pastry, always given with a wink and a secretive smile; a request for silence. He passes the gates, and uses the grace he's so well known for when he tiptoes across the place, no suspicions of his presence as he finally sets eyes on his pray, a smirk painted on his lips. He stalks his pray, malice that can only be found in the eleventh division glowing in his eyes. He prepares himself. He attacks.

He jumps out of the darkness, latching himself to one very surprised – and slightly scared, even if he won't admit it – vice-captain Hisagi.

"Ahh!" Shuuhei screams in a very high, very undignified – and God forbid, very girly – way. "What are you doing!" He says still yelling, looking down at the other shinigami, who is in turn looking up.

"What does it looks like? I'm visiting my favorite person in the world!" Yumichika says brightly, still not letting go of the other man. His voice goes up a notch, turning his head to the entire ninth division training in the backyard under the attentive eye of their top authority, "Who also happens to be the person I defeated back then!"

Hisagi's eyes close at the same time he grits his teeth. This has become somewhat of a tradition, the extravagant shinigami coming once in a while to humiliate him in front of his subordinates – a few of them, by the way, losing their respect for him in the process – with a happy grin and a smug voice. He's starting to lose his patience, as is obvious from the fact that he's holding his breath as he slowly counts to ten.

The further he gets is three. "Get. Off. Me."

"Nope, don't think I will." A slightly psychotic grin is on his face as he watches the vice-captain going red in the face with anger. "Tsk, tsk, you better watch that temper, Shuuhei-chan."

It is a fine day for torture a la eleventh division style.


	8. What to do

Spoilers to chapter 181 of the manga. You've been warned.

I'm back again! This turned out different that from what I expected, and even if I don't like it all that much, (I liked the last one better) I still think it's good enough. So, enjoy.

And thank you all for your lovely reviews!

Support a poor authoress leaving a nice review! It shall feed her soul. Be nice.

**Bittersweet**

**By: Nekare**

**What To Do**

Byakuya won't admit it, but he's worried for his little sister.

It's been a month since the drifters have gone back to the place they came from, and a relatively peaceful atmosphere has settled back on Soul Society. The damage is hard to forget, though, and the entire place is unnaturally quiet, forced smiles on everybody's faces; a silent mourning for the betrayal no one saw coming.

Rukia has been on an un-official vacation for the entire month, killing time with long walks around the Kuchiki state and the shy visits to the Shiba family outside seireitei. The gloomy mood that has infected Soul Society has taken over his sister too, the light no longer shining in her eyes.

Not even Renji has been able to get her out of it, and after an afternoon of talking to her with only a few shallow laughs he goes home with his head down, kicking stones in his way out. Byakuya watches this from his private study, a frown in his face. He sets the brush he's been doing paperwork with back on the table, and goes out of the room in the search of his sister.

He finds her in one of the unused rooms, dust visible with the rays of sunlight that stream through the window. She's staring out of it, absentmindly, looking at everything and nothing at the same time. It scares him, to see his usually vibrant with life little sister consumed into this apathy.

Enough is enough.

"Rukia, is there something you would like to talk about?" His face doesn't show his concern, but it is there, hidden between the lines. He only hopes she will see it.

"No Aniki, there's nothing wrong." She doesn't even turn to look at him as she speaks, eyes still fixed into the puffy clouds above.

When he opens his mouth again, he knows he's going to regret it. "You know Rukia, you can go visit them." He doesn't say 'him'.

She turns hastily to him, eyes wide and as bright as he remembers. "W-what do you mean?" Excitement can be read on her voice, and her eyes are urging him to keep on talking.

"That even if you chose to stay here, that doesn't mean you can't see them again. Actually, Kurosaki has even been made a substitute shinigami, if I'm not mistaken."

She stands up, muscles creaking for the lack of use. "Really? I can go see them?"

"Yes. You can." The squeal that gets out of her mouth is so out of Rukia's character that some surprise shows on his normally stoic face. Rukia hugs him briefly, thanking him silently and forgetting of all protocol that used to build a wall between them; and he suddenly knows he's forgiven for all of his mistakes. Rukia lets him go, smiles up at him and runs out the room. Byakuya stays silent in the dusty room, wondering what exactly had happened. He stares out the window, and looks as his little sister runs through the yard, dressed in a light blue yukata that matches her eyes; and as the robe-clad girl goes out of his sight he sighs.

Rukia smiled, so this can't be a bad thing; but then, he can't help but think he's made a horrible mistake.

Kurosaki may have saved Rukia, but that doesn't mean he likes him as a prospect of brother-in-law.


	9. Longing For Death

I've been having serious writer's block lately, in every single one of my stories; so is nice to know I can still manage to write something halfway decent. Anyway, thank you so much for the reviews! And remember, reviews are chicken soup for the soul.

Spoilers for the end of the Soul Society arc, so if you haven't been keeping up with the manga you might not understand this.

**Bittersweet**

**By: Nekare**

**Longing For Death**

He keeps on seeing her all the time.

He keeps on seeing her everytime he looks at his sister, the same clothes a little girl shared with a Death God without even knowing it, the clothes that appeared and disappeared from her closet mysteriously and made Yuzu wonder just when she had washed them (and used them).

He keeps on seeing her when she sees someone her size walk down the street; his arm already up ready to ruffle her hair when he finally freezes in surprise, a myriad of short woman already seeing her as the neighborhood fool as he turns around quickly and stomps angrily away just when he seemed to be about to greet them.

Dark hair reminds him of her, which is sad since in the damn country someone decided for him to be born in there's a ninety eight percent of dark-haired people; and everytime he sees someone with a black shirt it reminds him of her too, even when he knows he's only seen her once in black – black and red, he tells himself, black and red.

He still forgets that he doesn't have to bring an extra portion of dinner with him to the room, even when it's been a month already, and Yuzu's told him just a few days ago that the extra portions have finally made themselves known in the form of body fat – which made him frown upon his reflection in the steamed mirror after the bath, though he would never admit to it.

When Chappy the bunny is played in the TV he unconsciously turns to his right – her old seat in the couch when the house was emptied but for the two of them – to taunt her about the silliness of her adoration for the stupid rabbit only to find an empty spot next to him; he scowls even deeper as he changes the channel absentmindly. He's admitted to himself he misses to set her eyes on fire with their fights. Nothing wrong with that, right?

He hardly ever uses his closet anymore, instinct telling him he would be punched if he opened the door while the most dangerous girl he's ever known is changing into her pajamas (his sister's, actually); his head screaming how big of an idiot he is for forgetting her absence at the same time.

He keeps on seeing her everytime he has to go Hollow hunting, a shadow on the back of his mind that refuses to let him go as he faces the monster alone; a telltale sound from his brain that tells him to expect the criticism and teachings he used to need so much, and when he turns around with a cocky smile expecting the sarcasm – since she would be caught dead before giving actual praise – from her little form, he can't help but be surprised of the fact that she's gone.

He thinks he'll go crazy, thinking of her that much. So he tries to smother himself with his pillow the night the realization collides – hard – with his brain, because the fact that he's pining after Death herself sounds way too much like teenage angst for his liking.

So he snaps at everyone within a mile radius from him, and he leaves a bloody mess (quite literally, too) with the next few Hollows just to let out some steam.

And he swears he's going to yell at her the next time he sees her.


	10. Second Intentions

Spoilers for chapter 195. As in _heavy_ spoilers. You've been warned.

Anyway, I couldn't resist writing this when I just finished this chapter, my fangirlishness was just about to exploit. Thanks everyone for the lovely reviews! They make my day.

This probably will become an AU after chap 196. Oh, well.

**Bittersweet**

**By: Nekare**

**Second Intentions**

When Ichigo sees Rukia again, he stares at her for a moment, eyes wide as her gaze rests upon him, the quiet smile he always liked (a guilty pleasure) upon her lips. He stares at her, and a minute later he finally recovers the ability to move his numb limbs. Ichigo walks swiftly as he gets closer to her and hugs her.

Then there's laughter from her lips and brightness in her eyes, and he can at last let out the breath he's been holding since what it feels like forever. She hugs back for a moment before he realizes what he's doing and lets her go; concentrating on her tiny form instead of the catcalls Yumichika and Ikkaku are doing, because frankly, there's only so much embarrassment a guy can take.

Ichigo lifts a hand to his hair, messing it to mask both his annoyance (at the loud poor excuses of shinigami at his back) and his excitement (at having the girl who put his life backwards back).

"Hi." Extra points go to him for not stuttering, his usual confidence back after a week of silent self-pity. She smirks, and he smirks back to show her he hasn't changed that much, after all.

"I've missed you, you know? Even when you don't really deserve it." Rukia says it with a shrug, but he can see she means it. She had always been one for second meanings.

He knows better than to says what's on his mind, remembering just who is behind them. So he says 'I missed you too' in his own way. "Yeah, I know."

"Is the lovey-dovey exchange over then? Good, now we could try and go back to work." Ichigo turns to find Renji looking at him in an annoyed way, arms crossed against his chest. Brotherly jealousy, he can tell. Blackmail material, his mind says.

The moment passed, and Ichigo is so relieved that he teases Renji just for the fun of it, bantering over nothing for the whole day, through a shinigami reunion that really should be more serious than what it is; but fighting is safe ground, something he's used to, so he laughs at Yumichika's hairstyle, at Ikkaku's baldness and at Toushirou's (Captain Hitsugaya, the boy reminds him icily) shortness (Rukia's the only girl he teases, so he leaves Matsumoto alone); because he really can't help but feel all giddy inside at the thought of Rukia fighting besides him once again.

And when he opens his closet door that night to find her there as he'd expected (hoped), he yells at her, telling her that she can't possibly expect to find a shelter under his roof again, not when she doesn't have a reason anymore. She yells back, but he knows she understands what he truly means.

Because Rukia had always been one to understand second meanings too.


	11. Guilt

And you probably all thought you had gotten ridden of me...

A short drabble, just 'cause I'm bored and I really need to get back to my Bleach vibe, after a month and a half of continuous HP fic. I'm not quite sure I like it, but oh well, it's _something_. The prompt for this was: Parents. And about the last drabble, I very much prefer Tite's version of the reunion, oh yes.

(pst, reviews make me happy. )

**Bittersweet**

**By: Nekare**

**Guilt**

Ichigo still feels guilty about his mother's death, and most probably, he always will. As he stands under the light drizzle that has flatten his rebellious hair to his skull, Rukia's fingers intertwined with his and the tombstone in front of him painted with the endless grey of the cemetery; he can't help but let the guilt gnaw at his entrails, making him raw with the bile of his anger at himself and a small part to the hollow who took her life away.

(What makes him want to scream irately is the fact that he couldn't kill it when he had the chance, that he was to weak to avenge the sweet mother that smiled at him and sang at him when he couldn't sleep.)

Rukia is talking to her mother-in-law, telling the tomb about the wedding and the way she had tripped as she walked down the aisle, and how Renji kept on coming over to steal the leftovers and so many other mundane things; filling the silence she knows he hates so much (and he loves her for that). A pointless act, for she knows as well as he does that his mother's soul was consumed on that rainy day, a costly exchange for his own life.

The rain falls harder, as if to haunt his conscience even more; and when Rukia finally is quiet and squeezes his hand softly, he swears he'll somehow (someday) make it up to his mother.

After all, he's not alone anymore.


End file.
