Bleach 1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. **

Rukia could feel her fingers shaking as she clutched the hands of her sister's. Hands which were thin and icy to the touch…

Hisana was not a healthy woman, and Rukia was aware of that. She was far too aware of that. Her sister was very ill, and Rukia knew that something had to done about it. It was not as if her brother–in-law Kuchiki Byakuya had not. He had summoned the best doctors to treat his wife, and had taken time off work to take care of her personally.

The Kuchiki family was a big family, and also one of the oldest in Japan, leaving behind an impressive history which was still on going. Their name was familiar to all, and society recognised Kuchiki Byakuya as the Chairman of one of the biggest law firms in the world, the Kuchiki Corps. If Byakuya held one half of the world, then Isshin Kurosaki held the other half.

Just the mere mention of the man's name made her blood boil. The Kurosaki Corps was the biggest rivalry firm to the Kuchiki Corps. Isshin Kurosaki and Byakuya Kuchiki- they were two very important men in society, and _the _rivals.

Rukia worked as a lawyer to the Kuchiki Corps, trying to prove herself to her family's name daily- to prove that as an adopted family member, she was just as capable. She _was_ capable. She was fully aware so. Her colleagues respected her, and not just because she was sister to a powerful, stoic man. She brought about authority, no different from her brother.

She did not like helplessness.

"You'll be fine, Hisana," She said softly. The sisters were very much alike in appearance, the same ebony, silky hair, the violet orbs and petite figures. But they could not be more different in personality.

Rukia was a fighter. Hisana was not.

The latter in question lay, small and vulnerable, on a large double bed, beneath silk sheets and she smiled feebly up at her younger sister. They were in the bedroom of Byakuya and Hisana, and Byakuya was usually very stern in forbidding Rukia into the master bedroom. He expected respect; he commanded it. Entering his private quarters was not respectful.

But he was not at home but away then, and Rukia saw fit to visit her ailing sibling.

"I am fine," Hisana objected weakly. Rukia couldn't even believe her sister had the gall to say so a blatant lie when she was already in such a sorry state.

"That's not what the doctor said," Rukia countered. She stared daggers at her sister. "I hate it when you act strong. The doctors aren't helping you at all- how can they be the world's best physicians?"

Hisana grinned lightly, her head shifting slightly against the pillows. The woman's dark hair pooled against the white silk. "Aren't you heading overseas for a business trip the day after tomorrow? To London. You must take care, love." Her faint voice seemed to grow stronger with affection and worry.

Rukia snorted. She was aware that her sister was deliberately changing the subject, but decided against pursuing it. "Yes, I'm meeting a client there. They're paying billions, we can't refuse."

"Indeed you cannot." A deep voice cut in smoothly.

Rukia flinched and spun around from her seat next to her sister's bed. She came face-to-face to a pair of steely gray eyes. A man of elegance stood before her, his figure tall and forbidding in the luxurious room; an old servant stood hunched respectfully beside him.

"Nii-sama," Rukia acknowledged. She hastily stood up, and bowed, flushing. Her bangs whipped the sides of her face.

Her brother swept past her regally, his long, dark hair smoothly whipping behind him. He gently picked up his wife's tiny hand with a kind of uncharacteristic tenderness. "I will be with you in a moment," he murmured to her in a low voice.

She nodded, smiling softly.

_Lalala~_

Rukia sighed heavily as she picked up her ringing BlackBerry.

"Hello?" She said heavily. In the privacy of her bedroom, she was allowed to let weariness seep into her voice. To show that she was not completely efficient and still a human. After all, the image she portrayed to the public and sometimes to herself, was only just that, an image.

She slowly walked into the huge room, the wooden tiles creaking slightly beneath her aching feet.

"RUKIA!" a happy voice chirped.

"Rangiku," Rukia sighed gustily. "I'm not in the mood for any games. I have a business trip in two days, my sister's sick, and-"

She could practically hear Matsumoto sulking as she cut in. "Well, sorry for wanting to talk to a friend then. But still, how's your sister? Is she any better?"

The woman in question, Rukia's good friend, worked in the Kuchiki Corps as well, as the secretary. She was one of the few who remained unaffected by Rukia's authoritative and bossy behaviour, and yet retained her own blissful and outgoing self. She was as different from Rukia as anyone could ever be. Rukia sometimes wondered how they were friends. Their personalities vibrantly clashed like fire and water, and she highly doubted the fact that opposites attracted.

Yet somehow, Matsumoto read Rukia more than the Kuchiki would had liked her to.

"Not getting any better," Rukia said quietly. She sank down onto her own silk bed heavily, her thin stocking-clad legs curled on the mattress. The room and mansion seemed heavily quiet, although she could occasionally hear the wood creaking outside as servants wandered about at their chores.

"But she's got the best doctors attending her," Matsumoto said in concern. "Surely it's not that bad? Nothing the Kuchikis can't handle?"

"They're pathetic. I find it hard to believe that the doctors deserve all their titles," Rukia replied through clenched teeth, sudden anger rushing through her petite form like lava. "I need a doctor. A doctor who is far superior to them. Do they... even exist?"

Matsumoto said, her voice unusually grim, "But Rukia, finding a doctor that is better than the famous ones worldwide? That's difficult." Rukia heard the sounds of scuffling before Matsumoto spoke again, hasty to change the despairing subject. "I heard that your brother met Isshin Kurosaki today in a press conference. Oh my gosh, the tension nearly broke the windows."

Rukia's eyes widened. "Isshin Kurosaki?"

"That's right," Matsumoto replied. "Aren't you curious, Rukia? Nobody knows the man's family. He keeps them a secret, and nobody's seen them before. We know he has children, but they never turn up at the law firms."

"They're probably pathetic, unemployed brats," Rukia said condescendingly. Her fingers tightened on the cold metal of her phone. "Isshin Kurosaki probably is too ashamed to let the public know them."

She disliked the cheery, happy man, whose personality was the direct opposite of Byakuya, despite their similar success in work. During public events where the meeting between two famous men were inevitable, Rukia could always see the man drinking and cracking jokes with other celebrities, much to her distaste. One could call him amazingly humble, perhaps, but that was no excuse for his overly laidback behaviour. Rukia simply didn't comprehend how he had achieved such an incredible level of success. Perhaps he truly had talent, beneath the jovial facade. However, such behavior was _unacceptable _in working society.

Byakuya, on the other hand, sat in one area, his icy and silent aura being enough to freeze anyone in sight.

Matsumoto sighed. "I know he's the boss of our competing firm, but he's not that bad."

Rukia snorted again. "Oh, please. Look, I'm going to hang up. I'm worried about my sister, and I'm going to check in on her before I shower."

"Okay," Matsumoto replied. "Good luck finding a better doctor for her."

_Lalala~_

Isshin Kurosaki nodded warmly, and his butler bowed before leaving the office, the large door closing quietly behind the servant. Cold air swirled in the huge, luxurious room, and Isshin shifted slightly in his armchair. He picked up his mobile from a glass table and dialed a certain number.

"ICHIGOOOOO!" he hollered into the phone, the moment his son picked up. "Did you miss me?!"

"Shut up, old man," Kurosaki Ichigo snapped, his voice irritated. "I'm still in the clinic."

"You don't love me, anymore," Isshin sobbed. "I swear, you care for your patients more than me."

"Yes, because they don't scream my name so loudly that my ears nearly bleed," Ichigo retorted. "What do you want?"

"Papa's just worried for you," Isshin whined. He began ranting. "It's hard, being alone in a foreign country, and having only a tiny clinic for a home. Come home, Ichigo! Why don't you just start a hospital? You're more than capable to do so. Your medical skills are second to none! So maybe you should come home and nurse Daddy's lonely heart!" Despite his passionate speech, a part of it was empty. He spoke his heart, but he did not expect it to go his way. Not with a son as stubborn as his.

He heard Ichigo snort. "Dad, for the last time, I don't want to start a hospital. You know why. A small clinic is fine. And I'm in London because I get to be away from you!"

"That hurts," Isshin sobbed theatrically, although his quivering lips threatened to break into a bittersweet smile. "With your sisters away in boarding school, and you hating me, will I live in solitude? Plus that Byakuya kept glaring at me today. Oh, MASAKI!"

"Your rivalry with the Kuchiki Corps will never end, it seems," Ichigo sighed. "Well, they're just a bunch of stuck-up asses. Gotta go now, bye. Don't call me again unless you're dying. Someone needs to arrange the funeral, you know."

"ICHIGOOOO!" Isshin sobbed, but his son had already hung up.

He knew Ichigo did love his family, and he far from meant his words, but he worried for his son. He did not want his son living alone forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for those who reviewed. It means a lot to me! It's the main reason why I updated. Please feel free to voice any side pairings you would like besides Byahisa.  
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. **

Kurosaki Ichigo did not enjoy publicity. He did not enjoy fame without working for it, and that was what he would get should he reveal his identity as son of Isshin Kurosaki, Chairman of the great Kurosaki Corps. Moving overseas to a medical school and starting his little own clinic proved to arise little attention.

It had been a start.

Ten years ago, when Ichigo had been the age of thirteen – he could not have been more different. He frolicked about with his father's wealth, spent money extravagantly, and was determined to prove to the world that there was _nothing_ money could not buy.

How wrong he was.

When he received the phone call, his world came crashing down. His mother, who had taken care of him and raised him single-handedly and devotedly without the help of any maids, had passed away due to an unknown illness.

The physicians were baffled. They were the best of their kind, but the illness that had claimed a woman so deeply loved by her family was foreign to their knowledge. Her death shook the whole family. Isshin had been furious with the doctors and Ichigo could only stand there numbly with his weeping sisters, wondering…

_Why can't money buy my mother back?_

He had decided to be a doctor who saved lives. It was a completely different direction of career that Isshin had taken, and he knew that his father had, deep inside, wanted him to join the Kurosaki Corps and become the next Chairman, but he did not want that and his father respected it.

He picked up the ringing phone on his desk then, running a slender hand through his bright orange-colored hair, a contrast to his white coat. "Oi, Ishida! Why are you calling me when I have patients coming in anytime now?"

"Well, I'm sorry, Kurosaki, for calling to tell you that you left your mother's necklace at my place last night." Ishida's voice said coolly.

"Oh, shit!" Ichigo swore. The necklace had been his mother's favorite one, a simple silver chain, and he had worn it ever seen her passing.

"Please don't swear in my ear, Kurosaki," Ishida said, and Ichigo could almost hear the man wincing. Ishida was the son of the director of the Karakura hospital, another skilled doctor in his own right. Ishida was one of Ichigo's closest friends, despite their contrasting personalities. However, despite Ishida's pride, he had once admitted –_once_- that Ichigo was a rare talent in the medical field.

Ichigo continued to use that to tease him until this very day. Complimenting Ichigo would definitely make it to the list of regrets when Ishida ended up on his deathbed one day.

Just then, there was a polite rap on the door before a beautiful nurse peeped in. "Kurosaki-kun, the new patients have arrived," she said politely, her eyes huge and innocent.

Ichigo swore loudly again. "Right, thanks, Inoue. Ishida, I gotta go. My patients are here; I'll come and pick up the necklace once I'm done."

_Lalala~_

Rukia Kuchiki frowned as she entered one of the largest, white buildings in vicinity- the Kuchiki Corps. The other largest building in Japan, would of course be the Kurosaki Corps.

Oh, rivalry was bitter.

The vast glass doors swung shut behind her as she approached the elevator down the long and polished hallway, her briefcase bobbing behind her.

"Yo, Rukia!" Matsumoto bounced up in her face, and suffice to say, a _certain_ part of her body bounced along. Rukia glared at her as she straightened her pencil skirt and blazer. "Get to work, Rangiku. Isn't Hitsugaya looking for you, I bet?"

Matsumoto worked as secretary to one of the most loyal lawyers in the Kuchiki Corps, Toshiro Hitsugaya, and he was currently making his way angrily towards Matsumoto, his white hair disheveled and teal-colored eyes glowering dangerously. His black coat whipped behind him.

"Oh my gosh, he's here!" Matsumoto squealed in alarm, her honey-colored locks billowing wildly as she dashed off. "See you, Rukia!"

"MATSUMOTO!"

Rukia shook her head disdainfully as Toshiro ended up beside her. "You must keep a better eye on that girl."

"I try," Toshiro said ruefully, rubbing his neck. "She's the death of me, sometimes." He glanced at Rukia. "I heard you're heading for a business trip to London tomorrow?"

Rukia nodded shortly. "Clients get very demanding at times."

Toshiro replied, "But that's what lawyers have to do, isn't it? Anyway, I have to go after that rascal or we'll never get any work done. See you, Kuchiki." The young lawyer waved a hand at her before shooting off, his white spikes of hair bobbing slightly as his short form sped off with surprising speed. Rukia watched him go, waving. She respected Toshiro Hitsugaya. He was one of the few in the firm that was truly devoted in his work and had to endure Matsumoto's ways as well.

Rukia sauntered into her office, her heels clattering on the smooth, polished floor. Rukia believed in efficiency and neatness, which was why she did not appreciate seeing the flame-haired Abarai Renji sitting on her desk, grinning.

"You want something, Renji?" she snapped, setting her briefcase down.

"To see you, of course," Her childhood friend answered cheerily. She could make out his tattoos curving along his skin, the tattoos she had dared him to get at age seven and he had taken it, and naturally won. "You were nearly late today. And when Kuchiki Rukia is late, something's up. What happened?"

Rukia sighed, and she lowered herself onto her chair. "My sister."

"Oh." Comprehension immediately dawned on Renji's tattooed face. He casually slid off her desk, eyeing her in concern. "I heard she's got it real bad. I've never seen Mr Kuchiki so affected at work."

"The doctors are incompetent," Rukia snapped. She pulled out her papers from her briefcase angrily. "And I have a business trip to make in less than twenty-four hours, so I can't take care of her."

"Then go home, Rukia," Renji said gently. "Take care of her while you can."

Rukia stared at him as if he was insane. "Are you insane? I can't abandon my work. What would the public say if a Kuchiki left in the middle of her work to take care of her sister? How ridiculous!"

"I think they would understand," Renji replied quietly. "Everyone has families too."

Rukia flicked her fingers curtly. "And what would the Kurosaki Corps say? They'll laugh their socks off and use it to make us, their biggest rival, the laughingstock? Isshin Kurosaki is already too ashamed to reveal _his_ family to the public. They don't even _work_ in the Kurosaki Corps besides him. I will show them that the Kuchiki family is far more competent. So, I am staying."

Renji sighed. "Typical Kuchiki Rukia." He straightened up noisily, his back arching slightly as he stretched. "Well, I'll be picking you up tomorrow at dawn to the airport. I'll tell you not to wake up late, but that would be absolutely redundant." He waved his hand at her, before pushing the door of her office open and leaving.

Rukia sighed. It was going to be a long day.

_Lalala~_

Hisana Kuchiki was finding it hard to breathe. Her breathing caused pain to shoot up her windpipe and she couldn't help but flinch every now and then. Her husband was already suspicious despite everything she did to hide it. She could see it through the narrowing of his eyes whenever she attempted to hide a wince. Nothing about her seemed to escape his sharp eyes. Hisana knew it wasn't going to be long before he confronted her about it.

She detested this. She was worrying her family, and she hated herself for that. So when Rukia came home that evening, she gave her beloved sister a smile and acted as if all was fine.

"How was your day, dear?" She asked, patting the seat next to her bed.

Rukia sat down, and the mattress heaved slightly. She touched her sister's bony shoulder. "How was _yours_?"

Hisana sighed, leaning back heavily against the thick pile of her propped up pillows. "I don't need your interrogation, Rukia. Your brother-in-law has already given me one just now."

Rukia grinned. "Get used to it, Hisana. You know we only do it because we care."

"And I care about you too. You're setting off tomorrow all by yourself to London, and I'm worried sick."

Rukia rolled her eyes. "I'm twenty, Hisana. Why can't you trust me?"

"I do," Hisana insisted, her violet eyes intense and huge against her small, white face. "But it's only normal for a family to worry. I do wish though, that you would find a nice boy one day and settle down. Then I can be at ease."

Rukia shudder. "No way. Career comes first."

"Even before family?" Hisana said softly, gazing at Rukia with a sort of gentleness only Hisana possessed.

There was a sudden long silence. Rukia's violet eyes were a mix of emotions. She had not meant that… or had she?

'_I can't abandon my work. What would the public say if a Kuchiki left in the middle of her work to take care of her sister?'_

Her own words rang in her mind like a bell. Guilt coursed through her body.

Unable to face her sister anymore, she ran out of the room.

_Lalala~_

Breakfast was a somber affair the next morning. Her brother-in-law sat at the head of the table, eyeing her neutrally, as he always did during the rare times they ate meals together. She avoided his gaze, choosing to watch the butler Seiko move her luggage to the front door as she chewed femininely on her eggs.

"You had a fight with Hisana." Byakuya's voice was mild, but as usual seemed to pierce through her heart like a dagger. She looked up at him to see the tall man sitting poised in his large, oak chair, his gaze indifferent as he elegantly cut his omelette with a silver knife. "She was very upset."

"It's not- its…" Rukia's voice trailed off. Stuttering was not approved by her family.

"Do not taint the Kuchiki name in your business trip," Byakuya said abruptly. He brushed his long, slender hands with a napkin before rising gracefully, and swept away with a bow of the butler.

Rukia lowered her head. She was so, _so_ stupid. She felt turmoil of pain, guilt, and worry. Her sister ill and upset was not a good combination. She tugged remorsefully at her pencil skirt.

"Everything okay?" Rukia looked up in surprise to see Renji looking down on her, his hand on her shoulder and his crimson hair sticking out everywhere. "I'm here to pick you up," he added. "Come on."

Rukia nodded, smiling slightly. She'd resolve everything when she got back. All would be well then, she was sure.

She sneezed abruptly.

"What's wrong?" Renji called in alarm, his dark eyes widening. She shook her head. "It's nothing. Probably a common flu. I'll check in on some clinic when I reach London."

**I'm sorry if Rukia seemed a bit mean in this chapter. But she's actually very nice, haha. Just confused.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed or favorite this story. I know the beginning is a bit dull for some of you, but I wanted to emphasize more on the family background and personalities of the characters before starting the show properly. Also, concerning DinieLuvYunho's review, I just want to say that the Kuchikis are proud people and therefore more competitive by nature. They don't **_**hate **_**the Kurosakis, but rather strongly dislike them. I hope that clears any doubts you have about the story, and thank you for reviewing!  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.**

Rukia blew her nose for the fifth time in the plane. She was catching a cold, alright. The young girl scowled at the crumpled bunch of tissues sitting innocently in her small hand. It was definitely the results of _that _day, when she had been caught in the rain waiting for the incompetent chauffeur after a visit to the bookshop. The bookshop had closed, so she had been unable to run back there for shelter. It had happened two days ago, and now she was paying the price.

The woman leaned back against her seat, carefully adjusting the silk scarf around her slender neck. She stuffed her tissues into her a little plastic bag –Rukia Kuchiki was all about efficiency, after all- and sighed slightly. This was not good. How was she to meet her client when she would be blowing her nose every two minutes? While it was not serious, the cold would definitely hinder her work and that was not acceptable.

She would need medical attention. Rukia made a mental note to heed her own words that she had uttered to Renji- she would have to find a clinic.

Speaking of Renji, the fool had invited the lot of her other friends and colleagues over to see her off at the airport. Matsumoto had wailed that Rukia better find a 'hot guy' and get engaged by the time she got back. Hitsugaya had told her to shut it. Ikkaku Madarame, who had not dared not to come because she was the boss's sister, had just bickered with his boyfriend Yumichika. Both of them were lawyers, as well.

Everyone had come except her own family.

Rukia forced herself to shake off the melancholy that threatened to consume her. A Kuchiki did not behave in such a way. Besides, her sister was too ill and her brother needed to take care of her. It was reasonable. Rukia sighed inwardly as she sipped her orange juice.

She knew her brother would never come for her, ill sister or not.

Byakuya found Rukia as an obligation. She was his beloved's sister; therefore her existence came as an extra baggage in his life.

Another sneeze rudely found its way into her thoughts and her petite form shook slightly as she blew her nose against the new piece of tissue. 'Are you alright?' a female voice said politely. She looked up to see a tanned air stewardess smiling politely at her.

'Of course,' Rukia said haughtily. This was the first class section of the plane, and the staff around here had better know who she was. 'A slight cold, that's all.'

'Oh, I see,' the air stewardess bowed. 'If I may suggest, the Karakura Clinic in London has a brilliant doctor. He is Japanese, as well.'

Rukia's head tilted slightly. A Japanese doctor working in a Japanese clinic in London; now, that was interesting. She tapped a manicured finger musingly against her smooth chin. 'He is brilliant?'

The underlying message was clear: _Is he good enough for a Kuchiki?_

The air stewardess bowed again. 'Oh, yes. He is good acquaintances with the director of the Karakura Hospital. I happen to personally know him. Just ask for Doctor Kurosaki.' She smiled cordially.

Rukia's violet eyes instantly narrowed dangerously. 'Kurosaki?'

The woman shook her head, 'It is not who you think, Miss Kuchiki. He happens to share the same surname, that's all. He has no relation to anyone from the Kurosaki Corps.'

Rukia wanted to kick herself for her rash reactions. The air stewardess was right; there were plenty of people with the surname Kurosaki. What was she going to do, judge everyone with the same surname Kurosaki? She crossed her stocking-clad legs primly. 'I see. Well, I shall consider your advice. Thank you.'

The air stewardess nodded meekly. 'Please enjoy your flight. We will be arriving very soon.'

The woman who was the air stewardess then turned away elegantly, her legs gracefully prowling the carpeted floor of the plane cabin. Golden eyes gleamed. Oh, Ichigo was going to pay for insulting her new shoes yesterday.

She had sent a Kuchiki to his clinic.

Shihouin Yoruichi grinned slyly.

_Lalala~_

Kurosaki Ichigo groaned. Ishida had been busy the whole day yesterday, so he had been unable to retrieve his mother's necklace then.

Ichigo wanted the necklace back. He was so used to the feel of it around his neck that he felt empty without it. The necklace was not just expensive, but also held immense sentimental value. While Ichigo was not exactly a sentimental man, he treasured the thing above his life.

'Kurosaki-kun, if you want…' Inoue blushed lightly. She smiled shyly up at him, her fingers fidgeting. 'I can always go and get it for you. If I run now, I'm sure I can make it back just in time before your next patient.'

'There's no need, Inoue,' Ichigo said reassuringly. Inoue was always extremely helpful, but he felt bad for pushing such responsibilities to her. 'You don't have to. I'll dash for it at lunch break.'

Inoue looked horrified. 'But then you'll skip lunch! That's horrible. Maybe I should make a bento-'

'Oh, don't worry yourself,' Ichigo chimed in hastily. He propped his lean form casually against the wall, his white coat crumpling slightly. Inoue nearly swooned. 'I'm not that hungry. If you don't mind, do you think you can call the next patient in?'

Inoue nodded, feeling a bit disappointed. She would have been over the moon if Kurosaki-kun had eaten her bento! To see him tasting her food…. Her heart throbbed.

She sighed inwardly. Seducing Kurosaki Ichigo was not going to be easy.

_Lalala~_

Rukia strode into her hotel room, the porter boy behind her and struggling with her luggage. Her stilettos clacked, and she knew she held the air of a confident, attractive woman.

If not for the fact that her nose was starting to get red, that was.

Rukia sank down onto an armchair, watching the porter boy struggle as he tried to set down her luggage. She touched her bun self-consciously, and glanced at herself in the full body mirror nearby.

A small woman with huge, pretty violet eyes looked back. She was dressed in a black blazer and a tight pencil skirt, plus a small scarf around her white neck. She wore stilettos and her whole aura radiated business and dignity. If not for her slightly red nose, _damn it._

'Here,' she called the porter boy as she passed him a wad of notes. 'A tip for you. I heard westerners are big on these things.'

The flustered boy took the money, his face flushed, and he bowed so deeply Rukia thought he would fall over anytime.

'Give me the directions to Karakura Clinic,' she ordered, straightening herself. 'I meet my client tomorrow, and I want this dreaded flu healed soon before then.'

The porter boy bowed again, eager to please. 'At once, Miss Kuchiki.'

A few hours later, Rukia stepped out of the cab, peering curiously at her surroundings.

A small building stood before her, and her eyebrow shot up upon scrutinizing it. The building was so small that she suspected that it was barely any bigger than the size of her warehouse. Was she, Rukia Kuchiki, truly receiving services from an amateur doctor whose salary was so meager that he could not afford a bigger clinic?

But the air stewardess had said he was _brilliant._

Scoffing slightly, Rukia strode towards the small glass door. Since she was here, she might as well make the best of it. She pushed the door and wind chimes tinkled sweetly above her.

'Hello! Can I help you?' an innocent, high-pitched voice sounded and Rukia spotted a pretty nurse with an uncanny resemblance to Matsumoto walking towards her. An innocent Matsumoto, that was.

Rukia looked around. The place was actually very clean, the walls were blinding white and a small row of benches littered the place. The air smelt slightly of antiseptic. The nurse beamed at her. 'Hello! Your name, please?'

'Rukia, Rukia Kuchiki,' Rukia replied smoothly. She watched as shock seeped into the woman's face, her gray eyes widening.

'I-I see! Please, have a seat!' The nurse immediately babbled, gesturing at the benches hastily. Her voice had taken on a distinct nervous note.

Rukia waved her hand in objection. 'Where is your doctor? Doctor Kurosaki, I presume?'

The nurse bit her lip. 'It's lunch break now, but actually it was just over five minutes ago. I'm sure he will be back anytime.' She pulled at an auburn lock apprehensively.

Rukia's black brows rose disapprovingly. A doctor who obviously was not devoted to his work, it seemed to her. He could not even keep his schedule in hand. She lowered herself primly onto a bench, making sure to reveal her distaste on her face. The nurse fidgeted.

A few minutes later, she heard the distinct sounds of wind chimes tinkling before a tall, lean man in his early twenties and dressed in a doctor's coat burst into the clinic. She noted the vibrant shade of orange of his hair and that he was clutching a necklace in one hand.

'I finally have it, Inoue!' He shouted triumphantly. 'Her necklace!' He spun around abruptly as he caught sight of Rukia.

Rukia stood up, her eyes narrowed disapprovingly. 'I see now. Doctor Kurosaki, I cannot believe you would dare to be late when there are patients waiting just to retrieve a girlfriend's necklace.'

**I'm on holiday, so I actually have nothing to do but update. I hope you guys found this chapter okay.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A huge, HUGE thanks to everyone who reviewed! I want you guys to know that I appreciate every single review I get! Also, I got a review expressing desire to see Toshiro/Karin. I just want to know, as there are many HitsuHina fans out there as well, which one of the two pairings you would like to have. Please feel free to review and vote! Also, I'm open to any suggestions for any other pairings. A story wouldn't be so fun if there's only one main pairing, would it? XD Anyway, once you guys are done yawning through this, onwards!  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach. **

Rukia skeptically eyed the man before her. He had spiky, slightly overlong orange hair that framed a sharp face, and a pair of the fieriest amber eyes she had ever seen. They spoke of intense past experiences and a burning passion. Passion for… what? It was so different from the people she had ever seen. The people in her life were calm, dedicated to their work; or happy and hovering on insane (Matsumoto) but this man… his eyes reminded her of pain, happiness, resolution and sadness. They seemed to fill with so much _emotion_.

He was tall, so tall he towered over her, and she could make out his lean, lithe form below his doctor's coat, dressed in a simple buttoned white shirt and long black trousers. She had to admit he was attractive, but not in the way she would had expected. Her brother was _beautiful_; this man was not. It was more as if the raw emotion he seemed to radiate that gave him the slightly rugged, masculine attractiveness. She noted that he looked nothing like Isshin Kurosaki, and unconsciously closed all doubts about him.

"Well?" she repeated authoritatively, her arms crossed. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"What do you mean?" He had been staring at her in a sort of shocked stupor. He recovered quickly, though. Now he straightened himself, making himself tower over her even more than before. She resisted flinching. A Kuchiki did not flinch. _They_ made _others_ flinch. "First of all, that is not my girlfriend's necklace. Second of all, it's none of your business whether it is."

Rukia fumed. How dare someone talk to her without a single trace of contrition? "I could care less about your ridiculous love life, Kurosaki. What I know is that you kept me waiting for five minutes-"

"It's only five minutes," Kurosaki cut in. "Why are you so impatient?" His nurse, who had been fidgeting beside him the whole time, leaned in and whispered so loudly that Rukia caught every word, "This is Kuchiki Rukia, Kurosaki-kun! _Kuchiki _Rukia!"

Rukia smirked inwardly. It was time for the incompetent man to know who he had offended.

It was nothing she had ever expected though. The man merely muttered mutinously, "I know," before glaring at Rukia. His next words were obviously directed at her. "So what if you're a Kuchiki? To me, you're just another patient. I don't need to bow to you!"

If Rukia had been angry, she was furious now. When had she ever considered this man as attractive? No, he was ugly as hell, with his furrowed brows, all the way down to his scowl! He made her want to scream at him, to actually _raise _her voice with him, something _Kuchiki_ Rukia hardly ever experienced, even with exasperating people like Matsumoto. He brought out a new side to Rukia, and she loathed that. She loathed _him_. "Well, you've just been late for five minutes for _this patient_! What if it had been serious? What if it had been an _emergency_?" She was talking nonsense and she knew it. Anyone who had a serious condition would have headed to the hospital and not to a clinic, but she was too caught up in a vicious rage to care. "Does your patient's life mean nothing to you?"

Is she had expected him to retort, she had been wrong. Suddenly, all his defensiveness was gone, only to be replaced by surprise and unexpectedly, hurt. His amber eyes dimmed and his lips pursed. The nurse reached out and touched his shoulder hastily, looking uncertain. Rukia suddenly felt a pang of guilt. She shook it off, reminding herself that she had done nothing wrong.

The man placed the necklace around his neck carefully, and Rukia snorted. He was still thinking of his girlfriend at a time like this? He then looked up at her. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. Rukia's eyes widened. He went on, "My name is Ichigo Kurosaki, and let's go in to my room and have you checked."

This man was truly an enigma.

_Lalala~_

Rukia gingerly sat down on the chair after eyeing it suspiciously. The man rolled his eyes. "It's clean, you know," he remarked, taking out his stethoscope from his coat. "And it's not poisoned either."

Rukia stared daggers at him. "Do you have a problem, Doctor _Strawberry_?"

He snorted. "No, not at all, Miss _Midget_." He nodded at her seething form. "Now let's get that cold of yours checked."

Rukia was surprised despite herself. "How do you know it was a cold?"

"Oh, please." Ichigo replied snarkily, "Red nose? Slightly muffled voice? Sniffing now and then? I am a doctor, you know, if it's any news to you."

Oh, the old familiar anger rose back within Rukia, it did. "Well, pardon me if you don't look like one. With your orange hair? You should work in a circus."

He pressed the stethoscope onto her chest with a gentleness she had not expected. "Shut up, and let me listen."

Rukia had to agree, albeit mentally, that the stewardess had been right. This guy, despite been being the most infuriating, disrespectful, and annoying person she had ever met, was a good doctor. She could tell he knew what he was doing. Rukia had after all familiarized herself with veterans, be it successful lawyers, secretaries or accountants, and she recognized a man who was skilled in his own field. The seriousness he possessed as he examined her, his recognition of the symptoms of flu in a glance… he wasn't kidding, this guy.

Too bad he wasn't even dedicated to his job. And that he was a jerk.

"You should be fine," he finally announced, pulling away from her. She felt his warmth fade as he drew away. Ichigo kept the stethoscope into the confines of his coat before looking up at her, and he doubled back. "Why are you glaring at me?"

Rukia shot him another withering stare. "Because you're a jerk."

"I said I was sorry already, jeez," Ichigo snapped, running his hand through his thick orange bangs. "You Kuchikis are really annoying. Not everyone in the world serves to please you, you know."

Rukia leapt to her feet instantly, stomping a long stiletto onto the floor. "Don't you dare insult my family! How dare you? You've never even met us personally, how would you know anything?"

Ichigo opened his mouth as if to say something, but he abruptly shut it again. "Look," he finally pointed out, his tone resigned, stuffing his hands into his large pockets, "Can you please sit down? I'm here to talk about your cold. You should recover in a few days."

All her anger suddenly melted away. "_A few_ days?"

He leaned against his desk, crossing his long legs. "Yup. What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" She echoed scathingly. Rukia stalked up to him, waving a manicured finger in his face. "I have a client to meet tomorrow. The reason why I'm here is because I want to be better by then! This meeting is very important! I cannot afford to be sick by then!"

Ichigo frowned. "You're looking for a miracle, Rukia."

Rukia was too distraught to correct him, to tell him to call her Miss Kuchiki, as it was basic etiquette. "I _need_ to be well then."

Ichigo straightened. "I can give you lozenges and you can rest, but I can't guarantee that you'll be better by tomorrow." He gazed at Rukia's pained expression and sighed. "Look, if you want, you can come back for another check-up here tomorrow morning at eleven. My schedule is packed in the mornings, but I'm free then at eleven. It's my lunch break. What time are you meeting your client?"

Rukia eyed him cynically. "I meet him in the evening. But why would you do that for me?"

Ichigo looked away as he scribbled the prescription on a piece of paper. "Didn't you say the meeting was very important to you?" His tone sounded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Rukia nodded, feeling a sudden tight sensation in the back of her throat. It wasn't due to her sore throat either. "You have awful handwriting, Kurosaki. Just so you know."

"Thanks for complimenting me as usual," Ichigo said sarcastically. He passed her the prescription. "Pass this to Inoue outside. She'll hand you the medicine and you can make payment there. I'll be waiting for you tomorrow at eleven."

Rukia took the paper, and strode elegantly out of the door. Still holding the door, and her back facing him, she added quietly, "Thanks, Doctor Strawberry. I guess I forgive you for being late this time. But don't you dare be late tomorrow. "

Ichigo snorted. "Whatever, Miss Midget."

She didn't notice the slight smile that curved his lips.

_Lalala~_

Rukia felt as she was hovering. Nii-sama was glaring at her, his steely grey eyes hovering above her, and Matsumoto was tango dancing with Hitsugaya around a ballroom. Hitsugaya was _laughing._

Rukia shuddered.

It was then when she felt something draped over her, and her eyes flew open. It took her less than a minute to realize she was lying in bed, in her hotel room. She sat up wearily, rubbing her sweaty forehead. She had pounced onto her bed yesterday and almost immediately fallen into a fitful sleep after consuming a few of Kurosaki's lozenges.

She couldn't deny it, she felt much better now.

She brushed aside a few stray strands of dark hair from her small face, and stretched, yawning. The young woman glanced at the clock beside her on the nightstand and shock hit her _hard_.

It was 10.45am.

Rukia bounced off her bed as if it was a trampoline and dashed into the bathroom. Never before had she been late for any appointment, never before had her brother allowed the slightest lack of punctuality. It was the strictest rule in the Kuchiki family- You are on time when you are early, and you are late when you are on time.

How was she going to face Ichigo after _she_ had warned _him_ not to be late?

Her Blackberry suddenly rang, and she groaned. It was probably Matsumoto calling and demanding to know if she had succeeded in her 'conquest' in finding any hot guys.

She grabbed the phone, pressed it to her ear and snapped, "Listen, Rangiku-"

"Is this Miss Rukia?" a voice croaked. She recognized it straight away as the voice of her family butler, Seiko.

Panic fluttered in the pit of her stomach. Why would they call? Byakuya always left her alone on her business trips, unless she caused trouble, which was never. "Yes?"

"Mrs Kuchiki was sent to the hospital this morning," the butler continued, blissfully unaware of the tightening of Rukia's stomach and the fact that she suddenly, suddenly wanted to retch.

"Her condition has taken a serious turn for the worse. Mr Kuchiki wants you to return to Japan immediately."


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you all kind souls for reviewing! I'm practically overjoyed every time I receive a notification of a review! After all, reviews are my main fuel in writing and updating! It's always heartwarming to know that someone bothers to read my story and takes the time to comment. I love you all. And yes, hitsukarin it is **  
**Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.**

Kurosaki Ichigo had to say he was worried. He shouldn't be, though. Tons of patients booked appointments only to not turn up on that day. All he needed to do was to call and they would pick up the phone to inform him that they were busy or had miraculously recovered or something like that.

But he didn't know Kuchiki Rukia's phone number.

He wanted to kick himself. Why hadn't he asked her for her number yesterday? If he hadn't been so shocked that a Kuchiki had arrived in his tiny clinic of all places…

He had barged into the clinic, clutching his mother's necklace then. He had _just_ caught Ishida leaving his apartment for the hospital earlier when he had arrived and would not have gotten the necklace back if he had reached a mere minute later. Ishida would had long left.

So naturally, a very triumphant Ichigo had made a loud entrance back into the clinic, only to catch sight of Kuchiki Rukia.

How could he not recognize her? She often appeared on his father's television back in Japan when he watched the news of the Kuchiki Corps. Isshin Kurosaki was, despite his laidback behavior, a competitive man. How could one not be, if they were to achieve the kind of success he had? And Ichigo was not so ignorant as to fail to recognize the sister of one of the biggest rivals of his father.

Not to mention he himself had watched all news of her.

He had met her personally, after all, in his childhood… _only she had forgotten_. She had been the one who gave him resolution he had now. _He_ couldn't forget.

Now when he saw her again, he was shocked. That being an understatement, of course. The first thing he had noticed about her, was surprisingly not the fact that she was well-dressed in expensive clothing or the fact that she was glaring at him, but that she was _tiny._

She reminded him of vulnerability covered in armor. Breakable armor.

She had yelled at him, bickered with him, and basically regarded him with distaste and disapproval. Well, that part of her had changed. She never treated him like this before. She was also extremely serious in her work, and Ichigo knew that not just him, but also Isshin Kurosaki respected the Kuchikis for that.

He couldn't tolerate her insanely high expectations for herself and the people around her, though. She had to understand that people, including herself, were not working machines all the time. They were allowed to _feel_.

After the infuriating woman had left, he had picked up his mobile and dialed a number. He knew that by no chance it was a coincidence a Kuchiki, and also someone he had missed dearly for ten years, had arrived in his clinic.

"Yo, Ichigo," Yoruichi had chirped, her voice practically radiating glee and mischief. "Received my early birthday present, have you?"

Ichigo glared at the wall. He could just picture Yoruichi standing before him and grinning teasingly, her golden eyes flashing slyly. "What were you doing, Yoruichi-san?! You could have had my cover blown!" The doctor angrily tossed his doctor's coat onto his couch, before leaning against the coffee table. His apartment was a small one, despite his father's insists that he fund Ichigo.

Kurosaki Ichigo liked earning his own living, and he was going to keep it this way.

"Don't be silly, Ichigo!" Yoruichi had chanted jubilantly. "I'm the most careful in everything I do!" If not for the gravity of the situation, Ichigo would have burst out laughing. "Besides, live life with a little danger!"

"You're danger enough," Ichigo had muttered. He scanned his messy living room absently. He missed his little sister, Yuzu, who had always done the housework for him. He missed her cooking too. A small, fond smile unconsciously found its way onto his lips.

"Oh, don't say that!" Yoruichi's had gasped, in mock hurt. "Don't pretend you weren't happy to see Rukia Kuchiki again!"

"Who would be happy to see that midget again?" Ichigo had snapped. "The first thing she did was to insult me!"

"Well, your flaws are plentiful, my dear Ichigo!" Yoruichi burst out laughing. Ichigo had finally hung up, too annoyed to respond to her. Her laughter almost drove him as insane as Rukia did. _Almost._

Now he stood pacing in the clinic, around and around the waiting area, his white coat flapping behind his lean form. Inoue watched him nervously, her pretty gray eyes wide with apprehension and… something else.

"Why not have your lunch now, Kurosaki-kun?" She asked meekly. Her fingertips were pressed tightly against each other. "Maybe she changed her mind."

"This is Kuchiki Rukia, Inoue," Ichigo said, still pacing. He ran a hand through his vibrant-colored hair. "If she changed her mind, she would never keep people waiting. She would have informed me that she wasn't coming. It's only too easy for someone as influential and wealthy as her to check for the clinic's number and call. Something's wrong."

Inoue's lips tightened; something Ichigo failed to notice. She tugged at her white uniform lightly in slight agitation, and when she spoke, there was a vague trace of petulance in her normally meek and innocent voice. "But does it really matter, Kurosaki-kun? We've done nothing wrong, if she doesn't turn up, then it shouldn't concern us."

Ichigo frowned. "She asked me if the lives of my patients mean nothing to me, Inoue," he replied bitterly. "I can't take that lying down." He turned, and caught sight of Inoue, only to see her lips pursed. "You okay, Inoue?" he asked in concern.

Inoue burst into a full smile, and she shook her head quickly. "Nothing at all, Kurosaki-kun!"

Ichigo nodded. "I'm going to check which hotel she's currently staying in. Inoue, watch the clinic for me, will you?"

Inoue's heart tightened. Who was Kuchiki Rukia, anyway? Why was Kurosaki-kun so concerned about her? "Sure thing, Kurosaki-kun!" She said with feigned cheeriness, her auburn head bobbing in a reluctant agreement.

Ichigo smiled at her as he grabbed his car keys from his desk. "I'm counting on you, then."

Inoue could feel her heartstrings fluttering at his smile and words. "_Of course_."

_Lalala~_

Ichigo steered the car next to a nearby pavement. He glanced up through the windshield and peered at the glamorous hotel that towered before him. The Central hotel was a beautiful place, a hotel that radiated grandeur and an unspoken message: _Don't even consider this place unless you have a big paycheck. _

But it wasn't the hotel that froze Ichigo in his driver's seat. It was the sight of Rukia Kuchiki, her eyes puffy and swollen, standing outside the large crystal doors of the hotel and watching the porter boy shove her vast luggage into the back of a cab. She was still dressed demurely, with her usual blazer and pencil skirt and heels; her ebony hair was in its perfect bun. But her face was blotchy and she was biting her lip. The arrogant and bossy woman was missing.

She looked vulnerable. The armor she normally decked was gone.

Ichigo shoved the door of his car open, and he leapt out of the car, his long legs sweeping across the concrete of the ground effortlessly. He had discarded his doctor's coat at the back of the car.

Rukia spun around at the sound of his footsteps, and her violet eyes widened upon seeing him. "Ichigo!"

"What happened?" Ichigo demanded, reaching out and grabbing her arm. He could practically _smell _the salt of her tears; she was this close. "What's wrong, Rukia? Where are you going? How about your client? How about our _appointment_?"

"My sister- she…" To Ichigo's horror, Rukia choked back a sob. "She's very sick. I have to go back. No one- no one- seems to be able to heal her…"

Ichigo's amber eyes widened. Memories began coursing through his mind, but he forced himself to surface from the sudden wave of nostalgia. His necklace seemed to press against his flesh.

"Can I help you with anything?" he asked gently.

Rukia shook her head vigorously, and a bitter laugh fell out of her tiny lips. "You may be a good doctor, Ichigo, but not even you can help. Even _the best_ weren't of help. So thanks, but no thanks."

She turned away, but not before Ichigo glimpsed a single stray tear rolling down her pale cheek. "Goodbye, Ichigo."

He stood there numbly, watching as she released herself from his grip and walked away. He was still standing and watching when the cab shot off onto the road.

It took him some time to register his mobile ringing in his pocket. He heaved a heavy sigh, and fished his phone out. "Hello?"

"ICHIGOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Isshin trilled, and Ichigo winced. He moved the phone slightly away from his ear so as to protect his eardrums. "Yuzu and Karin just arrived back in Japan from school! They want to see you again! Come home for the family reunion, MY SON! Yuzu will be cooking your favorite curry rice! AND COME BACK INTO PAPA'S ARMS!"

It was like God had given him an opportunity again.

"Okay," Ichigo said softly. "I'll come home."

"SEE, I KNEW YOU WOULD DISAGRE- WAIT, WHAT?!" Isshin's voice shouted in shock. "Did… did you just agree?"

"Yes, old man," Ichigo snapped irritably. He began striding back towards his car. "Could you stop screaming in my ear?"

Isshin was spluttering. "Th…that's great. So, I've booked the plane ticket for you, and you should be back by this evening."

"Dad…" Ichigo said warningly.

"I took the money from your bank account, Ichigo," Isshin sighed knowingly. "It's economy class. I didn't use a cent of my money."

"Good," Ichigo replied, sliding back into his driver's seat. "I'll see you then." He hung up quickly before his father could respond and tossed the mobile carelessly onto the seat beside him.

He did miss his sisters badly. It had been months since he had last seen them. And he supposed he did miss his father… slightly.

But…

He started the engine, turned the steering wheel, and began driving to Ishida's place.

It was just that her tear-stained face reminded him of a boy ten years ago after receiving a simple, devastating phone call.

_Lalala~_

If there was one of the few times that Byakuya had looked anything other than stoic and reserved, then this was it.

Rukia glanced at him, her lips shaking. Her usually elegant brother-in-law stood straight beside her, his arms crossed, the picture of calm. If not for the fact that his grey eyes looked haunted and that his usually pale skin looked paper white.

Rukia swallowed back a sob. If even her older brother, the epitome of grace and elegance, had crumbled, who could she believe in?

The scent of antiseptic stung her nose.

She had taken the quickest flight back to Japan. Throughout the whole time in the plane, she had pleaded silently for the _freaking_ pilot to hurry. Her breathing had rushed out in small gasps as she clutched her armrest.

This was not how she had pictured her flight back home.

She was supposed to be sitting calmly on the passenger seat, savoring the triumph of a successful business trip. She was supposed to reconcile with her sister when she reached Japan, and beg her sister to forgive her for their argument, and her sister would hug her and kiss her, and her brother would be proud of her for proving herself to the Kuchiki name after a successful business meeting with her client.

She was not supposed to be standing with her brother in the hallway of the Seretei hospital, right outside the operating room where her sister was receiving emergency surgery. She was not supposed to have called off her meeting with her client.

She was not supposed to be feeling terror overwhelm her.

A Kuchiki did not fear. They held the power, the authority over everything. Then why did she feel so helpless?

She realized that it was not anything a lawyer could do. Her sister was possibly slipping away, and one of the most successful prestigious families in society could only stand by and wait and _hope._

_This was for doctors to heal._

Finally, after several hours of numb waiting and a frosty silence, the door opened and the surgeon walked out. Rukia resisted the urge to dash forward and shake him and _beg_ him that her sister _had _to be fine. She was in the presence of her brother, after all, and aside from the clenching of his jaw, he showed no indication of wanting to do the same thing.

"My wife?" His voice was deep and questioning. Rukia thought he actually sounded slightly _pained_.

Kuchiki Byakuya did not feel pain often.

The doctor was not dressed in the usual style. He wore a large green hat that was dipped down his forehead and hid his eyes, and a large coat of similar color that billowed as he walked towards them. Loud clacking sounds were emitted as he strolled, and Rukia looked down only to see he was wearing clogs.

She would have sneered at him if not for the fact that her possible last words to her sister were how her career came first before family.

"Hisana-san's condition has stabilized, Kuchiki-san," Urahara replied casually. Rukia seethed silently. How could a doctor sound so unaffected? Why did Byakuya trust him so much? "She is currently out of the woods_, but…'_ At this, the man pulled his hat down lower, until the point that his eyes were mere dark pools of shadows. "I can't guarantee that her condition will last this way for long."

Byakuya moved forwards smoothly, but Urahara stretched a slender arm out, blocking his way.

"Aaaaah, Kuchiki-san," he sighed, "We have just finished surgery. You can't see her yet. If you could wait a few more hours-"

"Anyone who forbids me from seeing my wife now will be fired from this hospital immediately," Byakuya said smoothly, his tone even but dangerous. "You may be Yoruichi's recommendation, Urahara, but let me tell you this; I despise her as much I do you."

Rukia's ears pricked. She had heard the name Yoruichi before; she was from another prestigious family like the Kurosakis and Kuchikis but had run away from home to elope with another man. Rukia had never seen her or the man before though. Could he be…?

Urahara sighed again, and his arm dropped to his side. "_Yare, yare_," he muttered. "You Kuchikis are so cold."

Sudden footsteps sounded and the trio turned their heads.

Two men were striding towards them. One of them had stick straight raven hair and was bespectacled. Rukia could immediately tell that he was a neat person like her, from the way he carefully adjusted his glasses and how his clothing was without a single wrinkle or crease. He was dressed in a simple buttoned shirt and long dark blue pants.

Next to him stood a familiar orange-haired man, with equally familiar fiery amber eyes.

Rukia gaped.

He spoke, his voice hard with determination.

"I would like to have permission to examine Hisana Kuchiki," Kurosaki Ichigo stated calmly.

**I'm sorry if this chapter was too long. It wasn't intentional. Anyway, please review and tell me what you think! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks for reviewing! You guys are the best. I'm really grateful for your support. Feel free to comment at anything you find unsatisfactory- I welcome constructive criticism. I'll try my best to make changes to improve. Once again, thank you so much for reviewing!  
Disclaimer: I don't own bleach. **

Rukia felt as if the air was knocked out of her lungs. She had to summon every bit of her willpower not to let herself look like a flabbergasted fool.

_What was Ichigo doing here?_

She glared at him, trying to look casual. "Why on earth are you here? You were just at the hotel back then!"

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "There's such a thing as a plane, you know." Looking at her shocked face, he added mockingly, "You know the thing with wings? The metal machine you took to come back here? Ring any bells?"

Rukia's face reddened with fury. How dare he embarrass her in front of her brother? "Silence!" she shouted angrily, striding up towards him. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder. "Of course I know what a plane is! Are you trying to insult my intelligence, you stupid strawberry?"

Ichigo shrugged, the mocking look still lingering on his features. He grinned slyly, casually stuffing his long hands into his pockets. He was not wearing his doctor's coat. "That is if you have any intelligence to insult, midget."

If one was capable of exploding due to extreme anger, then Rukia would had exploded right then. No one, _no one, _save for one other person in her life had ever spoken to her like that. "How _dare _you! Who do you think you are?! Don't think that just because you cured my flu, you're all that! You're just one of the many doctors I could have received treatment from! You're _nothing_!" she spat poisonously. She was so agitated that a few strands of her dark hair fell out of her once neat bun.

"Excuse me." A deep voice said coolly.

Rukia flushed. Her brother stood before them, his grey eyes cold with disapproval… directed at _both_ her and Ichigo.

She wanted to die right then.

The bespectacled man cleared his throat carefully, before glancing at Byakuya. "Mr Kuchiki, you remember me, I assume?" he asked politely.

Byakuya looked at the bespectacled man with the same frosty disdain; however, Rukia noted that his eyes had softened minutely. "You are the son of Ryuken Ishida," he stated. "I respect him; he is a well-known doctor, and also recently the director of Karakura Hospital. Why are you here, and with a…" Byakuya glanced at Ichigo, his lip curling slightly, "companion?"

"This is Kurosaki Ichigo, Nii-sama," Rukia chimed in, staring scathingly at Ichigo as well. He looked uncomfortable for the first time since his arrival. Having two infamous Kuchiki glares directed at you was enough to make anyone squirm.

"Kurosaki?" Byakuya repeated, his voice hardening. "Why do you know him?"

"Aah, Kuchiki-san," Urahara said at last. He had been watching the whole scene with a small, amused smile on his face. "He shouldn't be of any relation to Isshin Kurosaki. I know that old man personally, after all, and he has never spoken to me of anyone called Ichigo."

Byakuya's mouth pursed. The air grew colder. After all, the mention of Isshin Kurosaki was taboo for him. Ichigo looked away.

"He's just a doctor from some clinic who treated me, Nii-sama!" Rukia piped up again meekly, breaking the icy silence. "He is very poor." She ignored Ichigo's glare.

Byakuya turned away, his scarf fluttering regally. "I have had enough of this. I'm going in to see my wife." Rukia nodded obediently, her heart aching once more at the thought of Hisana, and followed…

"Wait!" Ichigo called. He took a step forward. "Did you not hear me just now? I wish to examine your wife!"

Rukia's eyes were wide. She couldn't believe that Ichigo would dare to make such a bold request, _again_. She glared at Ichigo, and opened her mouth…

…only to be cut off by her brother. Byakuya simply looked back, his gaze arrogant and condescending. "And pray what, boy, do you think you have the right to examine _my_ wife?" his tone was lazy, and with a slight trace of irritation.

Ishida Uryu bowed respectfully. "If I may speak, sir, I would like to say that I trust Kurosaki Ichigo. He may be a little rash, but his heart is in the right place. I assure you that he has exceptional medical skills, even if he owns only a small clinic. He may be able to find out something concerning Mrs Kuchiki's condition."

Byakuya's eyes were narrowed. Rukia could tell that he was contemplating between his trust in the son of Ryuken Ishida and his dislike towards Ichigo.

She didn't know how she felt herself. Ichigo was a great doctor, she couldn't deny that. He had a certain kindness and compassion that many doctors lacked; as shown when he went all the way to the hotel just to check on her.

If she hadn't been so distraught over her sister, she would have realized how touched she had been by that one simple act.

Surely examining her beloved sister wouldn't do anyone harm? She was in a critical condition, after all, and all help would be appreciated.

She trusted Ichigo.

Byakuya had begun walking towards the operating room again. "Do as you wish."

Rukia, Ichigo and Ishida exchanged triumphant glances. Urahara smirked.

_Lalala~_

Rukia swallowed rapidly as she made her way through the door of the operating room behind her brother. The smell of antiseptic was stronger than ever; it threatened to overwhelm her. Her palms felt clammy and damp, and she fought to control her emotions.

She so badly wanted to apologize to her sister.

A big, warm hand landed on her tiny shoulder and she looked up to see Ichigo smiling encouragingly down at her. His smile spoke words; as if he understood, _beyond_ understood- like he had gone through the same thing as well.

It also spoke that he was there for her.

Rukia did not understand herself at that moment. Perhaps she was so anxious and terrified for Hisana that her emotions were a mess, but suddenly she felt tears lightly blur her vision.

She hadn't felt this emotional since _him _all those years ago.

The room was dimly lit, and nurses were either busy scribbling on their clipboards or arranging operating tools on a metal table. They shared one thing in common though- they were all clustered around one bed.

Rukia's fingers trembled. The nurses shifted aside slightly, and she recognized a single small, pale hand so like her own lying limply on the bed. The main difference was that this hand was so thin that Rukia could see the bone structure jutting out, and that several needles and tubes including an IV were attached to the pale flesh.

Rukia's heart was thumping so fast that it _hurt_.

Byakuya stepped forward and the nurses immediately parted for him, their capped heads lowering respectfully.

Rukia's breath caught.

Hisana Kuchiki lay beneath various layers of blankets, her eyes closed and her face blank. She looked ghastly white, her lips drained of color, and she looked so tiny and frail that it seemed as if all the protection in the world was needed for her safety. It was then when Rukia registered the dim sounds of beeping from a small machine nearby.

The sound of Hisana's slow but consistent heartbeat.

It was if someone had offered Rukia consolation, small as it was, and she suddenly realized, _there's still time. I can still apologize to her, tell her I love her, tell her that she comes first to me before anything else. _

Once Hisana woke up, that was.

Byakuya gently lifted his wife's hand, his gaze uncharacteristically soft as he looked down at her comatose form.

Rukia started as Ichigo moved, heading purposefully towards her sister, Ishida right behind him. He leaned down over Hisana and Byakuya stared at him stoically, still holding onto Hisana's hand.

Rukia noted the abrupt change in Ichigo. The exasperated and teasing look in his amber eyes were gone; the fire in them burned as strongly as ever once seriousness took over. Those beautiful eyes were carefully observing Hisana's visage, letting nothing out of sight.

Urahara stood behind Ichigo, looking uncharacteristically grim as well. He had taken out a paper fan, and was slowly fanning himself as he gazed down at Hisana Kuchiki, despite the air conditioner being possibly as low as fifteen degrees.

"This…" Ichigo carefully lifted up one of Hisana's arms, the one not held by Byakuya, and pointed at an array of bruises located on her forearm. They were a dark shade of blue and green, and were lightly smattered all over the pale skin. Byakuya's eyes darkened. "Blood clots?"

"Hisana Kuchiki received a lot of injections over the past months due to her poor health," Urahara explained. "The blood clots could have resulted due to that."

Ichigo nodded, and Rukia saw that he was exchanging meaningful glances with Ishida. He knelt down again and slowly, gently lowered her jaw so that her tongue was revealed.

Rukia was feeling lost. She was not used to this feeling, and she sure did not like it. "What's wrong with her?" she demanded. "Have you gotten anything?"

To her surprise, it was Byakuya who responded to her questions. "Patience, Rukia," he said calmly, his eyes resting on her.

Rukia dipped her head bashfully, "Yes, Nii-sama."

Ichigo finally straightened up. "I want to carry out further examination on Mrs Kuchiki. For that, I'll want her charts and every single bit of information I can have about her-"

"And what makes you think you can have them?" Byakuya interrupted coldly. "Those are personal. Ishida Uryu may think highly of you, but that's not enough proof to me about you. This is as far as I shall entertain you."

"Then let me prove myself to you," Ichigo said, his tone firm. Rukia heard the familiar determination echo through his voice again. Her heart fluttered at his seemingly never wavering resolution. "Let me examine your wife properly."

"And use her as your guinea pig?" there was a slight sneer in Byakuya's voice. "I am not so keen to allow you to use my wife as some sort of _experiment_ to prove yourself. You are a mere doctor from a clinic- you don't even work in a hospital. Why should I trust you?"

"Nii-sama!" Rukia put in, suddenly feeling defensive for Ichigo. "I believe in Ichigo. He-he, well, he cured my flu…" How was she to explain to Byakuya, to put in words, about the compassion she had seen in Ichigo, about the way he obviously took every one of his patients seriously?

About the way that he truly showed the desire to heal the wounded, physically or emotionally?

Byakuya closed his eyes, his fingers gently stroking Hisana's skin. "This discussion is over," he replied with a note of finality. "Allow me to send my regards to your father, Ishida Uryu."

Uryu nodded, his lips pressed tightly, as he adjusted his glasses once more. It was clearly a dismissal, and he recognized it. "Thank you, Mr Kuchiki."

"Oi, Ishida!" Ichigo snapped. "How can you give up so easily? You can't just-"

"Quiet, Kurosaki," Ishida cut him off curtly. "There's nothing more we can do here, and you know that. We should go."

Urahara fanned himself vigorously, a small smile on his lips. "See you, you two. I'll contact both of you later."

Rukia was biting her lip as she gazed at Ichigo. She had surprisingly wanted him to be the doctor to treat Hisana, shocking herself as well. There was something about him that made her reluctant to part with him, something reassuring for her perhaps. He made her feel alive again; filled with all the powerful emotions she had thought she discarded long ago. It wasn't necessarily a good thing either.

_Get a hold of yourself_, she scolded herself. Have you forgotten what happened the last time something similar occurred?

She had been crushed.

Rukia Kuchiki turned away, and stared at Hisana's sleeping face, focused on the sounds of the slow beeping. She could hear Ichigo calling her name, but she ignored it.

He wasn't needed in her life anymore. He had cured the worst of her flu, had failed in getting permission to further examine Hisana, and that was it. She didn't need him anymore.

And like all unnecessary assets in her life, she discarded it.

If she clung on too hard, then the pain would simply set in.

She listened to his footsteps fading away, and wondered why the fates loved tormenting her.

_Lalala~_

"Well, that went well," Ichigo commented sarcastically as he and Ishida strolled out of the entrance of the hospital. The cool air blew lightly on their faces, sending the locks of their hair waving slightly.

Both men stopped in their tracks, horror apparent on their faces. About at least half a hundred people were clustered outside and almost all of them were the paparazzi. Cameras flashed. Upon spotting Ishida and Ichigo, they closed in on the two like eager, hungry vultures.

"Ishida Uryu and unknown companion! Could you tell us about Hisana Kuchiki's situation?"

"Is she dead?" a less subtle voice asked.

"Did the surgery go well?"

The questions flew from all directions and bombarded the pair, but they ignored the paparazzi (no easy feat), and attempted to claw their way out. The crowd only pulled closer, determined to _choke_ the answers out if they had to.

Things ended up with Ichigo and Ishida tearing their way blindly through the waves of BO and people, their heads lowered.

Ten minutes later, they stood panting in a deserted corner, still shaking from the aftereffects of nearly being squashed to death.

"This," Ichigo snapped, "is why I hate publicity."

"Rukia Kuchiki was completely ignoring you, when we left," Ishida replied calmly, shifting his glasses cautiously. "What did you do?"

"The hell I know," Ichigo scowled. Despite his heated tone, Ishida easily detected the almost indistinct hurt in his voice. "That midget is the biggest enigma I've ever met."

"Funny though," Ishida countered coolly. "People tend to think that of _you_."

"_Me_?" Ichigo echoed disbelievingly. He snorted. "There I was, trying to help and Mr I'm-better-than-you tells me to get lost. Plus, I had to face all those paparazzi. Sometimes I wonder why I even try."

Ishida glanced at Ichigo, and a minute smile crept up on his lips. He was far too aware of Ichigo's harsh words, and how empty they were.

Ichigo was one of the kindest men alive in the world.

"You can't blame Kuchiki Byakuya, you know," he answered conversationally. "They're a prestigious family, and they deserve only the best. Someone whom they think works in a mere clinic just isn't good enough. He's only doing this to protect his family."

Ichigo looked mutinous. "If anyone was willing to offer to treat my family, we would never refuse."

"Your family is far different from them," Ishida replied smoothly. He sighed, and stared up into the night sky. "Not everyone is as open-minded as all of you."

Ichigo wasn't listening; his amber eyes were widening in horror and shock. "Watch out!" he shouted, and both men leapt aside expertly as a Mercedes swerved next to them beside the pavement. Tires screeched.

The door of the back of the Mercedes flew open and an arm shot out, grabbing the back of Ichigo's jacket, and then promptly reeled him in like a fish. Ichigo wouldn't go in without a fight, however. His long, lean legs fought for freedom and Ishida, eyeing the fiasco before him, sighed and shoved Ichigo into the car.

"Traitor!" Ichigo shouted indignantly, as he fell back in helplessly. A punch came flying his way from within the confines of the car and he ducked it easily.

"ICHIGOOO!" a happy voice hollered in elation. "Your martial arts are as superb as ever! As your teacher, I have to say I'm so proud! PAPA LOVES YOU!"

Ichigo groaned loudly. Ishida pushed him in further and joined the father and son into the car, closing the door behind him. Ichigo's groans increased in volume when his only form of escape was sealed.

The chauffeur turned the steering wheel and the Mercedes shot off.

"Get away from me, you disgusting old man," Ichigo snapped, as Isshin Kurosaki pulled him into a tight hug.

"How can you say that to your own father?" Isshin wailed tearfully, still holding onto Ichigo, who was trying to push him off.

Ishida was watching the pair, feeling slightly amused and also very apprehensive. It was times like these that made him appreciate Ryuken more, and that said something.

Isshin finally let go of Ichigo, his face beaming. He was a big, well-built man, with cropped black hair and heavy stubble that coated his chin. He was dressed in a suit.

Ichigo resembled his mother.

"So how was your trip to the hospital, you two?" Isshin asked joyfully, leaning back against the leather seat.

"What do you think?" Ichigo muttered icily. He was straightening his jacket, which had become heavily creased now due to his father's very _warm_ welcome.

"We were kicked out, frankly speaking," Ishida replied, shaking his head slightly in disapproval. "Kuchiki Byakuya made it clear that we had outstayed his welcome. Even the mention of my father did nothing to sway him."

"It's not that surprising," Isshin mused. "Kuchikis will be Kuchikis. Byakuya Kuchiki might not look it, but he cares for his wife. He wouldn't want amateur doctors treating her. Anyway, Ishida…" he grinned at the doctor warmly. "Thanks for coming!"

Ichigo, who had been glowering at his father's comment of amateur doctors, smiled slyly at once. Ishida coughed loudly, suddenly very interested in the traffic outside.

"Ah, but Yoruichi-san had a nice talk with him, didn't she?" Ichigo drawled silkily. His amber eyes gleamed. "What did she do to threaten you, Ishida?"

"I have no idea what you are saying," Ishida answered stiffly, still looking out of the window.

"It was your sewing kit, isn't it?" Ichigo went on teasingly. "She threatened to confiscate it. Am I right?"

"_Anyway_," Ishida said loudly, ignoring Ichigo's smirks. "What did you think about Hisana Kuchiki's condition, Kurosaki?"

Ichigo's self-satisfied air immediately faded. He folded his arms, his smile gone. "It's not good. Her blood pressure is dangerously low, and she was running a high fever. Also, the blood clots on her arm… they were exactly the same as…"

"As Masaki's," Isshin finished grimly. His dark eyes were dim with sorrow; the sorrow that always appeared at the mention of his late wife, even after ten years. "They were on her body then too, weren't they?"

"Almost exactly the same," Ichigo replied seriously. His tone was grave as he exchanged glances with the other two. Light from the traffic played on his face through the windows, and his golden eyes seemed to glow with intensity. "The pattern was very similar too."

"We need to investigate this," Ishida added. "We need to examine her further."

"Ichigo," Isshin spoke. His voice was devoid of its usual light-heartedness. It sounded sad and serious, revealing some of the man behind the playful façade. The same man who had lost his wife, the man who had worked from scratch to achieve his current level of success. "You must look after Hisana Kuchiki. I will not have another man's wife suffering the way mine did, even if her husband is my rival."

Ichigo nodded. "I promise, Dad." The doctor made a mental note to ask Yoruichi for the Kuchikis' phone number.

He wouldn't let Rukia Kuchiki lose her sister, either.

_Lalala~_

Rukia sighed shakily as she stepped out of her golden bathtub, her legs aching. Drops of water dripped on the polished floor. She felt exhausted, but her mind was far from dead.

The moment Ichigo had left- all her terror had hit her in full force once more. It was as if the reassuring, kind doctor was gone, and she was left all alone.

Which was weird, since Ichigo had never said anything comforting to her before. No "Don't worry, everything will be fine" or "Everything's okay".

Ichigo wasn't that type of guy. He expressed his compassion through everything he did, through his smiles, his efforts that showed he _cared_, not through his words.

And Rukia liked that. Even if he did drive her crazy with his _words_. It had only been a day since she met him, and she had never felt angrier or more touched by a guy.

But Rukia didn't like being too reliant on someone. The last time…

She shook her head, struggling to calm herself. The young woman grabbed a fluffy nightgown and draped it over her petite body. She had to put in all effort in looking after her sister now. Also, now that her brother was busy concerning her sister's medical affairs, it was up to her now to take hold of the Kuchiki Corps. She couldn't let it fall, and allow the Kurosaki Corps to triumph.

Byakuya had sent her home, stating she needed her rest for what was to come, and she made a mental note to visit her sister in the hospital the next morning.

Scooping up her damp hair into a towel, she left her bathroom and sat down next to her dressing table. She peered into the mirror, and recoiled slightly in mild disgust.

She looked awful. Her face was too pale, and the beginnings of dark bags were starting to hint underneath her huge eyes, which suddenly seemed too big for her small face.

Good gracious. She had better remember to apply a heavier layer of make-up tomorrow.

She picked up her Blackberry, which had been lying on her dressing table, and four messages popped on the screen.

Renji: _How are things with your sister? I'm sorry I couldn't come, but a new case came up at the last minute. Don't worry, I'll be with you soon. I won't let you go through this alone. _

Renji: _Dammit, Rukia, answer me, I'm worried to death. Don't you dare make yourself face this alone. _

Matsumoto: _Call me as soon as you can! I'll be with you all the way! I'm your best friend!_

And, surprisingly, Hitsugaya: _Hope your sister pulls through, Kuchiki. Don't worry too much._

There were two missed calls from Renji and three from Matsumoto.

Rukia smiled mildly, and she lowered her mobile, still pulling a wan smile at her reflection. She would call them back later. Surely, there was still hope for her sister. It wasn't as if the world had ended. This was nothing she couldn't handle.

There was a sudden knock on her door. She straightened up, and walked to her door.

"Yes?" Rukia whispered, pulling the door open slightly. Seiko's wrinkled face appeared in the gap of the door, and he bowed respectfully. His white hair shone.

"A phone call came for you, Miss Rukia," he replied, his voice slightly wheezy. "There was a message left."

Rukia's heart froze. No, no, she had had enough for today. If her sister's condition had worsened again…

Rukia Kuchiki wouldn't be able to take it.

"It's not from the hospital, Miss Rukia," Seiko added, reading his mistress's mind despite her poker face. He was the family butler since she was only a child, after all.

Relief flooded her. "Why didn't the caller talk to me personally?" Rukia questioned.

Seiko smiled, making the crow's feet around his wrinkled eyes more prominent. "The caller said that you probably needed time to yourself for now. Here, Miss Rukia…" The old man passed her a small slip of paper. "I wrote the message down."

"Thank you, Seiko," Rukia said quietly, taking the piece of paper.

The butler bowed once more. "Goodnight, Miss Rukia."

Rukia shut the door and looked down at the paper in her hands. Written in the beautiful cursive that was her butler's handwriting:

_Hey, midget, once you're done moping around, come meet me tomorrow afternoon at twelve sharp at the Beans' café. You should know where it is, it's only a street away from the Kuchiki Mansion, no?  
See you.  
Kurosaki Ichigo_

**I think I spent quite a few hours typing this and listening to music. I simply cannot write properly without music, dunno why xD anyway, hope you guys liked this chapter. Please review and comment!**


	7. Chapter 7

**I know chapter 6 wasn't all that exciting with the lack of IchiRuki interactions and all….so I'm hoping to make up for it here! Anyway, thanks for reviewing. To all you guys: HunterofComedy (I love 'the adventures of chappy rukia', please update soon!), thinking hurts my brain, DinieLuvYunho, 24kk, ej, wynnsy,annia9semi, Booklover2526, RabbitPatronus922, plus all those awesome people who reviewed in the previous chapters (sorry I didn't name you all, but I wanted to end my author's note soon xD). Thank you everyone!  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.**

Rukia smiled in satisfaction as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. She buttoned her crisp white blouse, and pulled up her black pencil skirt carefully, making sure to briskly brush her clothing for non-existent dust.

It was amazing what a night's sleep could do.

She felt herself again; confident and in control, save for a mild ache on the back of her head. Yesterday felt like a distant, unwanted memory; a blur of pain and confusion. She was going to visit her sister today, and she was suddenly sure that there was nothing the best doctors couldn't do to cure her. It wouldn't do to panic and end up as an emotional mess when her sister needed her most.

She had decided to accept the meeting with Ichigo Kurosaki.

Oh, she had her doubts and qualms. Meeting him might bring about unnecessary feelings of anger and… _something else_ from her side, but that would be for the Rukia of yesterday. _This _Rukia today was the same Rukia who had worked diligently in the Kuchiki Corps without fail.

She and Ichigo had a simple professional relationship after all, and he was offering his help most likely, to treat Hisana. She would accept it, why not?

Rukia applied a light layer of pink lipstick, and checked her face appreciatively in the glass before her. She had also applied a thick layer of foundation earlier, hiding those obscene eye bags and her unnaturally pale skin. Her raven hair was once again pulled into a neat bun, except for the stubborn bang that persistently hung between her violet orbs.

Rukia Kuchiki stared at the wall of delusion before her, and approved.

She picked up her small handbag, plus her briefcase and set off down the spiral staircases. Seiko bowed from where he stood on the first floor and trailed after her obediently as she sauntered towards the entrance of the Kuchiki Mansion. Seiko pulled the large, oak door open with a loud _creak_ and she stepped onto the front porch, black high heels clicking.

Rukia's dark brows arched when she came across her sister's personal maid pushing some luggage into the boot of the Kuchiki family's BMW with the help of the family chauffeur. Seiko dipped his head politely. "Mr Kuchiki ordered that more of Mrs Kuchiki's personal belongings and his own as well to be sent to the hospital."

Rukia nodded. Her brother had spent the night contacting and meeting various more famous, well-known physicians from all kinds of countries possible. He had not come home at all, and she vaguely worried for his health as well.

She walked up to the maid and chauffeur, and they immediately lowered their heads meekly in greeting, ceasing their work.

Senna smiled shyly, her golden eyes glowing as they caught the sun's bright rays. "Hello, Miss Rukia. I've been told to move into the hospital to accompany Mrs Kuchiki."

Senna had worked in the Kuchiki Mansion for around a decade as Hisana's personal maid. Hisana had found her then, a mere twelve-year old, sleeping homelessly at a bus stop. She had taken pity on the girl immediately and had taken her in as her maid. Byakuya had disapproved, naturally, but Hisana had added, smilingly, "I was a homeless girl then too, Byakuya-sama, until you took me in and gave me a home. Why can't I do the same for this girl?"

Rukia was already missing her sister's smile.

It had been missing when Rukia last saw her before heading to London.

Rukia took a deep breath in, and nodded briskly at the chauffeur as he opened the car door for her. She slid in elegantly, her head raised high. Senna followed her into the BMW, her hands perched together and her spiky purple hair tied into a neat ponytail. The servant was wearing a simple smart suit, with long black trousers and a similar-colored blazer. Every servant in the Kuchiki household donned the same uniform, except the cooks.

"Have a good day, Miss Rukia," Seiko bowed in front of the car window, his gloved hands folded obediently behind his bent back.

Rukia nodded haughtily, crossing her legs on her seat. The BMW prowled off, out of the towering black gates of the mansion, emitting a cloud of dust behind.

"I'll be coming to the hospital with you, to visit my sister," Rukia told Senna, leaning back against the seat and feeling the cold air waft across her face.

Senna's face broke into a smile. "That would be great! I'm sure Madam will recover faster if you're there to see her. She was…" The girl's smile wavered, "well, a little concerned about you before."

Rukia's windpipes suddenly became constricted. Breathing turned into a challenge. "After I left for London, was Hisana… very upset?" She didn't know Senna well, to be honest, as the girl spent most of her time with Hisana. They hardly ever saw each other face-to-face in the first place, despite living in the same house for many years.

Senna's head turned to look out of the window, and Rukia missed the widening grin on the maid's face. "She was quite sad, Miss Rukia, if you must know. She wouldn't stop telling me about how you possibly didn't love her anymore. And then, she fainted the morning she was sent to the hospital." Her voice was sympathetic, despite her hidden feral smile.

Rukia was too consumed by guilt to notice anything amiss. "I… see." She took a deep breath in a desperate effort to steady herself, her lungs seemingly tighter than ever.

Sudden ringing blared the air, and Rukia hastily pulled her Blackberry from her handbag, grateful for the distraction. "Kuchiki Rukia speaking."

"Rukia! It's me!" a happy voice sang in her ear. Rukia sighed. It was so typical of Matsumoto to be so loud in the morning.

"Rangiku-"

"Renji and I are coming over to your place in the afternoon!" Matsumoto barreled on, as if Rukia hadn't spoken. "We're going to buy lunch for you, plus plenty of sake, and then come over to drown your sorrows together!"

In the background, Rukia could distinctly make out Renji's protests, something about "No sake". She sighed. "Matsumoto, it's not that I don't appreciate it, but-"

"And I'm going to tell you about my new boyfriend," Matsumoto cut in cheerily again. "He's so awesome! It's going to be epic! Oh, by the way, if you don't mind, there's no need to mention any of this to Hitsugaya, you know…. He wouldn't be interested."

Rukia rolled her eyes. "_Matsumoto Rangiku,_ will you listen to me? I can't meet you guys for lunch, much as I want to." Senna was watching her curiously, head cocked to one side and her ears pricked.

"What?! Why?" Matsumoto cried in devastation, sounding as if the world had ended.

"I'm meeting a doctor I met in London for lunch," Rukia replied wearily. "He might be able to do something about Hisana." Too caught up in the conversation, she failed to recognize the narrowing of Senna's eyes at her words.

"Oh my gosh!" Matsumoto hollered. All her initial disappointment seemed to have disappeared only to be replaced by excitement. "Is the doctor hot?"

"Matsumoto," Rukia warned, "Didn't you say something about having a new boyfriend?"

"Ooh, getting possessive, are we," Matsumoto purred suggestively. Rukia could practically picture the woman's light blue eyes lighting up in perverted mischief.

"No, I'm not!" Rukia burst out indignantly, her voice echoing explosively in the car. "Who would want that stupid strawberry?"

Senna gasped lightly, before quickly turning away.

"Wow, it's been some time since you've been so emotional over a guy!" Matsumoto replied enthusiastically, her excitement rising instead. Rukia sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes again.

"Listen," she retorted. "Even if I'm not meeting the stupid doctor, I can't meet you guys today. I have to stay in the office the whole day anyway; I need to make up for the lack of work since I went to London."

"What?" Matsumoto sounded incredulous and also slightly concerned. "Rukia, you've been so busy yesterday, what with your sister and all. I think you deserve a little break. Stay at home today and relax."

"Have you forgotten who you're talking to, Matsumoto?" Rukia smiled in mild amusement. She tapped her knee lightly with a small hand. "This is Kuchiki Rukia. I do not take days off."

Matsumoto groaned. "How could I forget?"

Rukia sighed. "I do appreciate your concern though. Look, can I meet you guys for lunch tomorrow? You can tell me all about your new boyfriend then. I'm busy today."

"Okay!" Matsumoto cheered, her voice rising in joy. "And you will tell me all about the doctor you're dating! See you, Rukia!"

"I'm not-" Rukia's exasperated voice was cut off when Matsumoto abruptly hung up. She groaned, and propped her throbbing head back against the cool leather of her seat, dropping her phone back into her stylish, brown handbag with a small _plop._

"Is it true?" Senna's voice spoke. Rukia looked at her in surprise.

Was it just her, or did Senna's usually docile voice sound _steely_?

"I mean," Senna said again hastily, upon seeing Rukia's arched eyebrows, "are you really dating a doctor? It's just surprising that Miss Rukia would show interest in such trivial things like _dating_." Her voice had softened, laced with undeniable curiosity.

Rukia snorted. "You are right, Senna. I would never take the trouble to date anyone," she lifted her nose disdainfully, not unlike Byakuya, "let alone date a moron like that doctor."

Senna nodded, smiling innocently. She jabbed a slim finger at the window, in the direction of a large, white building. "Look, Miss Rukia, we've reached the Seretei Hospital."

_Lalala~_

Rukia glided across the wooden tiled floor of the café, and every customer in the vicinity looked up in awe at the dignified creature that had entered their small abode. She merely swept past them, savoring the same feeling which _Byakuya_ probably experienced whenever he was around, well, _anywhere_.

She deeply inhaled the scent of fresh coffee beans in appreciation, before lowering herself onto a large wooden chair by an unoccupied table. She casually dropped her handbag on her lap, and placed her briefcase carefully on the floor next to her, letting out a soft creak from the tiles.

A waiter hastily scurried to her side, his head bowed politely. "Can I help you, Miss?"

Rukia glanced at him carelessly. "My companion isn't here yet, so I'd take the order when he arrives. I trust that you'll be available then?"

The waiter nodded eagerly. "Of course, Miss." He quickly scrambled away, not wanting to intrude in his new customer's space for any longer than necessary.

Rukia allowed a small sigh as her thoughts drifted back to her visit earlier in the hospital. She didn't know whether to be relieved or worried.

There was no change in her sister's condition, meaning it was still as grave and serious as before, but that also meant she was not in any danger of losing her life anytime soon. She remained comatose, refusing to surface from her coma and accept her younger sister's apologies.

Rukia wondered, with a jabbing pain in her chest, if her sister was still unconsciously hurt by her argument with Rukia, even in her deep, deep sleep.

"Why so down, midget?"

Rukia's head jerked up at the sound of the familiar masculine voice. She glared into the amber eyes of Kurosaki Ichigo, who was leaning over her, hands in his doctor's coat. His orange hair stood out as vibrantly as ever.

"Who's down?' She snapped, leaping to her feet and refusing to let him intimidate her. "If I'm down, it's probably because I'm here meeting you!"

Damn, why did he have to be so tall? Her head still barely grazed his broad shoulder, even with her six-inch stilettos.

Ichigo scowled. "Well, sorry if I was being concerned then, _midget._"

Rukia fell back onto her chair angrily, still clutching her handbag, and she crossed her legs abruptly. "I don't need your concern, _sir. _I trust you are here to talk to me about my sister?"

Ichigo seated himself as well, reaching out a long leg and effortlessly dragging a chair opposite her towards himself. "So you're already this rude when you know I'm trying to help."

Now it was Rukia's turn to scowl. "Look, do you want to help or not?" She eyed his wear appraisingly, her lips tight. "And why are you dressed in that coat? You're not a doctor here in Japan."

Ichigo grinned. "Urahara-san asked me to help him out in the Seretei Hospital. So I'm officially working there for the time being."

Rukia snorted. "That isn't going to change my brother's mind about you, you know. He's very stubborn at times."

Ichigo smirked. "Like his sister."

Rukia took a deep breath, struggling to control her boiling anger. She'd promised herself this morning that she was going to be the old Rukia again, not the new one that Ichigo had formed out of her. And she was going to keep that promise.

"What would you like to drink, Ichigo?" Rukia asked sweetly, a friendly smile on her lips as she waved the waiter over with an elegant sweep of her hand. Ichigo looked taken aback, before glaring at her suspiciously.

The same waiter was beside them in a moment, ready to serve his biggest customer of yet. If he had known then that he was currently serving the family members of both Byakuya Kuchiki _and_ Kurosaki Isshin, cardiac arrest would not be surprising.

"Two coffees, but add extra sugar to Rukia's," Ichigo ordered automatically. "She likes that."

The waiter scribbled the order down hastily onto his notepad, before bowing and then scurrying away like a little rabbit. Ichigo looked up to see Rukia staring at him in shock.

"How… how did you know that I like sugar in my coffee?" she demanded, her violet eyes wide.

Ichigo suddenly looked uncomfortable, but he shrugged casually, leaning against the back of his chair. "A lucky guess, I suppose. Tons of people like sugar in their coffee, and a lot of them are my patients. Just a form of habit, you could say."

Rukia nodded hastily, mentally reprimanding herself for her overreaction. It was just that… _he _had used to tease her about getting diabetes one day from all the sugar she consumed.

She forced herself to scowl, and snapped, "Whatever. Tell me, Ichigo, did you come all this way to Japan just to see my sister?"

Ichigo's eyebrows rose. "Of course not. I'm here to visit my family too."

Despite herself, Rukia felt curiosity stir within her. She suddenly wanted to know more about the family of the man before her. What parents had borne such a passionate, kind, yet infuriating man? And did he treat his family the same way he treated her- mocking, yet with a certain kindness that was impossible to emotionally ignore?

"What are your family like?" she asked, her head tilted curiously.

Ichigo blinked, as if her question had come as a form of surprise to him- and it probably did. She probably had given him the impression of a workaholic with no time for anything else, including the worlds of others around her.

Rukia suddenly, for the first time, disliked her own image.

"Well," Ichigo shrugged, "I have two sisters and a father."

"Sister?" Rukia echoed softly. "Like me?"

He smiled gently at her quiet voice. "Yes. Like you."

"You must take care of them," Rukia said authoritatively. "Don't let them fall ill, and _protect_ them. Don't ever say anything you'll regret to them."

Ichigo peered at her curiously, but a knowing look came into his amber eyes. "That's what my name means, you know, midget," he said quietly. "_To protect_. Not strawberry."

Rukia's eyes were widening again. She gazed at him, abruptly seeing him in a new light once more. She had thought she had seen more of him than her brother knew, but suddenly realized that she barely knew him, after all.

All that raw emotion in him, they were not for show.

Rukia started as the waiter came back, holding a tray with two Styrofoam cups of steaming coffee. Ichigo seemed to come around from whatever _momen_t they'd been sharing, and they both jumped lightly as the waiter lowered the cups on the table. Rukia, swiftly regaining her composure, reached into her wallet from her handbag and pulled out a few bills.

"Here," she said lazily, passing him the money, "there's an extra tip in there too. Use it to treat yourself."

Ichigo shot Rukia a disapproving look, before passing his own money to the overjoyed waiter. The man practically floated off in joy with his new tip.

"What?" Rukia inquired primly, not missing Ichigo's look. "It's my money. I can use it what I wish."

Ichigo shook his head, before lifting his cup and taking a sip. "Don't spend money too extravagantly. Don't flaunt it around like that. There are bigger things in this world you should care about."

Rukia snorted. "Who are you, my father? I am Rukia Kuchiki. I've been working hard all these years, slaving away, and I think I've deserved the right to do what I want with _my_ salary." She tapped a finger on her cup for emphasis.

Ichigo gave her his characteristic scowl. "You're just a slave driver, to the point that I bet every one of your colleagues fear the sight of you."

She was starting to loathe the sight of him again. To hell with him and his stupid strawberry name! Or his sisters! Why had she even bothered to feel any understanding about him? "Shut up! If you intend to cure my sister, then I expect you to be telling me your plan, not mock me!" She spat furiously. She would do this for Hisana. She would endure this _monster_ of a man for her beloved sister.

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, Miss Kuchiki. Anyway, the plan is simple. I need to have your sister's charts and information. I can't get much from Urahara-san, even if he wants to help, because such things are confidential. Also, your brother's currently staying in the hospital, making things way harder for me."

"So what do you propose?" Rukia demanded hotly. She didn't know why she was even going with this, going behind her brother's back and against his orders just for a man she was so constantly fed up with.

She loved her sister so much, and yes- she was desperate for any help. She could pretend to be unaffected and composed like her brother, but she was still desperate.

Her brother was desperate too.

"I need everything you can tell me," Ichigo replied grimly. He put down his cup carefully. "Everything you know about your sister's medical condition, tell me."

"Sure, but will that be enough?" Rukia swallowed, feeling the sweetness slide down her throat. "I'm not a doctor, and that means I may get the facts wrong."

Ichigo looked contemplative. "If you can, bring me to your house today. Let me see your sister's room and show me her daily activities before she was sent to the hospital. I'd like to see her medicine too."

Rukia nearly choked. "What?" She lowered her voice and shot him a poisonous stare. "Do you know how dangerous that is? What if my brother finds out?" she hissed.

"Your brother is currently staying in the hospital," Ichigo pointed out frankly, unaffected by Rukia. "What is there to fear?" he stared right into her eyes. Amber met violet. "Didn't you just tell me to take care of _my_ sisters? How about you?"

Rukia glared at him acidly. "I intend to keep my own advice! I don't need you to tell me! Don't you dare!" She detested being accused of anything, when _she_ normally was the one doing the accusing.

Cleared of all her uncertainties, she rose to her feet. "Meet me tonight at seven at the entrance of my house," she stated, slinging her handbag over her shoulder gracefully and picking up her briefcase. "Don't be late."

"_Wait!_" Ichigo had leapt to his feet as well, coffee forgotten. He was eyeing her briefcase incredulously. "You're not going to work, are you?"

"Of course I am," Rukia snapped briefly, already turning to go. "I'm already late enough. See you lat-"

She gasped as a large, tanned hand grabbed her arm and reeled her back effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing.

"What do you think you're _doing_?" she whispered fiercely, staring daggers at his face. His lips were pursed and his eyes narrowed. Customers were already glancing up, and the waiter was eyeing them timidly from a corner.

"You're not going to work," Ichigo replied calmly. He met her withering stare steadily. Suddenly, his tall frame seemed very intimidating. "Rukia, I'm sick of this. I was already unhappy concerning your ridiculous desire to miraculously recover from your flu before you met your client. Now this? You've just recovered from the worst of the flu, rushed back to Japan within a day to see your sister, undergone such emotional pressure, and now you want to work? Take a day off today. At least, listen to a doctor's advice."

"You obviously don't know us Kuchikis," Rukia retorted primly. There was a small amount of pride in her voice, despite her anger. "Why do you think we're so successful? There's nothing we can't handle."

"Oh, yeah?" Ichigo inquired lazily. His words were spoken slowly, with a certain intense purpose. He still hadn't let go of her arm. "Hisana Kuchiki is very ill now. And the great Byakuya Kuchiki and Rukia Kuchiki are torn and _helpless_. Believe me, I know how it feels."

Rukia flinched, almost violently. "Let go of me, Kurosaki Ichigo. _Now_."

He was just as firm. "No."

Rukia lifted her foot and kicked him in the shins, hard. He obviously hadn't expected her to do that, and he let out a small yelp, his grip on her arm loosening.

Rukia immediately tore her arm away and dashed off, her heels clattering noisily and briefcase bouncing vigorously on her thighs. Wooden tiles creaked.

Ichigo watched her go, cursing about ingrates and devilish midgets.

**I've been so sick lately. Headaches, nausea and giddiness- I've got the whole package. It's horrid. I've never exactly been the pink of health, but man, this sucked. Anyway, everyone, take care of yourselves and don't end up like me! XD Please review, it really makes my day! **


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you for those who reviewed**. **Probably said it a million times, but yeah, it means a lot to me. About wynnsy's review, let me assure you that everything which baffles you now has a resolution to it. I have the whole plot sketched out vaguely in my head, but of course, sometimes I write things out and they turn out differently lol. But the basic plotline is there. By the way, all Senna lovers should back out of this story at once. I don't have anything against her, but this story has a lot of Senna-bashing. Some characters need to take the rap.  
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. **

The restaurant was a beautiful one, a place of one of the finest. It was a place for the financially average and poor to stand outside and watch wistfully.

A chandelier hung from the long stretch of ceiling, shining its grand, golden lights all over the place, lighting up the faces of the customers as they dined. Polished shoes treaded on the elegantly carpeted floor, and the cool air of the air conditioner wafted across the staff and customers alike. The delicious aroma of the dishes drifted. Silver cutlery clinked quietly.

At a certain table sat two men dining together. They were both dressed neatly in business suits, both sitting opposite the other.

One of the men sipped elegantly from his wine. He had thick brown hair that was carefully slicked back from the front, save for a single strand resting elegantly between a pair of narrow, hazel eyes. Those were shrewd eyes then, eyes that held knowledge and intelligence and an owner who was not afraid to use them for less than noble purposes. He was an attractive man, and women from all corners gazed at him appreciatively.

"I can't say I'm too pleased," Sousuke Aizen said slowly, taking his time with his wine. He gently lowered his glass onto the table, watching the remaining drop of wine sliding slowly back down. "Kurosaki Ichigo is in Japan."

The man opposite him was truly a unique-looking man. He was tall, thin and his long, slender fingers were currently propping one side of his sharp chin up. A Cheshire grin seemed to hang permanently on his thin lips and his eyes were narrowed to slits to the point that all an outsider could see was his wickedly curved eyelids. Silver bangs brushed his pale face as he watched his companion drink with an amused air.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, Aizen-san," Gin Ichimaru drawled cheerfully. There was something silky about his voice, something _sleek _that was enough to make the insides of anyone else crawl. However, there were a few exceptions, and Aizen was one of them.

A man who pulls the strings of even a Joker was not someone to take lightly.

"I assume you have done something _productive_, Gin?" Aizen raised his head and met the eyes of his companion steadily.

"Of course," Gin replied serenely, his head tilting mockingly. "Your lack of faith wounds me."

Aizen leaned his chin languidly on his hand. "This should be interesting."

"I befriended the best friend of Rukia Kuchiki," Gin replied, the Cheshire grin widening. "I believe her name is… Rangiku Matsumoto."

"By befriended, you mean…" Aizen's eyebrows rose. He smiled suddenly in amusement. "Honestly, Gin, I did not think you had the charisma to enable anyone to trust you."

"What are you saying, Aizen-san!" Gin's voice took on mock hurt. He fluttered his slender hand carelessly. "People love me!"

"This really is interesting, though," Aizen responded thoughtfully. He easily ignored Gin. "A woman who is not… intimidated by you exists? I have to say that this is a first."

A flicker of disconcertment swept across Gin's sharp face and his trademark smile seemed to waver for a second, but it was as gone as soon as it passed.

Gin did not feel discomfort. Discomfort was something he inflicted on people all over the world –his victims.

"She is a little… different," he admitted nonchalantly. "But if everyone was the same, then the world would be so incredibly _dull_, ne, Aizen-san?" His Cheshire grin deepened once more.

Aizen leaned back gracefully, his fingers pensively tapping the brim of his glass. "Still," he said smoothly, "Dating the best friend of Rukia Kuchiki would surely prove to be an advantage for us. This way, you, Gin, can make sure that Kurosaki Ichigo does not go near Hisana Kuchiki. We cannot allow him to cure her, or worse, find out the truth."

"Why not just reveal his real identity?" Gin sang suggestively. He sounded very content indeed. "If Miss Kuchiki finds out he is the son of Isshin Kurosaki, she will never allow him to go near her precious _Onee-san_."

"The publicity will make things harder for us to operate," Aizen replied bluntly. "Imagine the stir in the public… the long-lost, mysterious children of Isshin Kurosaki revealed. The paparazzi would go crazy with excitement. It will be far more difficult for us to make our move then towards the two families."

"A pity," Gin said, rising elegantly to his feet. "The look on the poor Kuchiki's face when she finds out his true identity would have been remarkable. Having been tricked twice… _ouch_." Gin purred the last word lazily as if it was his own guilty pleasure.

"Our target here is not Rukia Kuchiki, Gin," Aizen answered sharply. "It is Byakuya Kuchiki and Isshin Kurosaki." He watched Gin as the man moved smoothly away from the table. "Oh, and Gin?"

The silver-haired man looked back, his smile intact. "Hai, Aizen-san?"

Aizen tilted the glass back, sending the last drop of wine into his mouth. "Keep an eye on Senna, won't you?"

_Lalala~_

Rukia swallowed the last drop of coffee back into her mouth, before setting her mug down. She smiled fondly at all the Chappy sticky notes plastered over her table and laptop before writing neatly once more on her latest conquest of paperwork.

It was nearing six already… the sun's final rays flooded her office in a beautiful glow and lit her dark, glossy hair. The woman barely noticed. If not for the fact that she was meeting Ichigo at seven, she would not have even bothered to look up at her Chappy clock, and she would have kept working on instead.

Rukia was all about work.

She looked up then, as a knock tapped politely on her office door. "Come in," she said briskly, hand still scribbling away on her work.

A young secretary walked in, a nervous look on his face. There was a file tucked beneath his arm and his hands were fidgeting vigorously behind his small back, something Rukia noticed. _Such unprofessional behavior_, she thought in disapproval.

"I've typed out the file for Mr Sanetoshi's profile, Miss Rukia," Hanatarou squeaked nervously. He passed her the file with a shaking hand.

Rukia crossed her legs, and her manicured fingers lightly tapped on her desk as she browsed through the file expertly. He waited like a suspect awaiting his verdict.

"This," she said, pointing a finger at a page, "lacks the date."

Hanatarou gulped. "I'm sorry, Miss Rukia! It's just that my pet chicken died and I'm really… well… I'll retype the whole thing-"

"And waste more printing paper?" Rukia questioned dryly, eyeing him with piercing violet eyes. He stopped, still gulping wildly.

She was almost exactly like Byakuya Kuchiki. _Almost_.

"Retype this page and this page alone," Rukia instructed. She passed him the file back and went back to her work almost immediately, frowning slightly as she viewed her papers.

Hanatarou nodded, and scampered off quickly, overwhelmed with relief. The office door was just within his reach now…. Just a little closer…

"Hanatarou."

"Ye-es, Miss Rukia?" Hanatarou looked back slowly, one of his eyelids twitching violently.

"My condolences about your pet chicken." She hadn't even bothered to look up from her work, pen still moving vigorously.

Hanatarou's eyes were wide. He blushed furiously, screamed, "Thank you, Miss Rukia!" before scrambling out of the office.

It was just that she would be _most _distraught if _her _pet rabbit ever died.

_Lalala_~

Ichigo sighed as he leaned against the black gates outside the Kuchiki Mansion.

Maybe he had taken her words "Don't be late" too seriously. He was half an hour early, with no one but a few passers-byers eyeing him and the gates curiously. He was on the lookout though. The paparazzi were definitely lurking somewhere nearby, eager to pounce on the latest slab of juicy meat. This was the Kuchiki Mansion, after all, the best place to get some scoop.

This was why publicity sucked.

He ignored the appreciative glances women shot him as they passed, feeling uncomfortable, and was almost relieved when his phone rang. The young doctor straightened up, his tall, lean frame uncurling from against the gate and he fished his mobile from the pocket of his sweater. He was dressed in his usual buttoned shirt and long jeans.

"Yo, Ishida," Ichigo said, recognizing the caller ID on his mobile screen. The man moved away slightly when he spotted the security guard eyeing him suspiciously from the inside of the gate. "What's up?"

"Your sisters want to see you soon," Ishida said dryly. "Your father asked me to call, because you would most likely ignore his call, he said."

Ichigo felt a slight pang of guilt. He had not seen his sisters despite his returning to Japan yesterday, having been so busy over Hisana Kuchiki's case.

But this was important. It possibly concerned his mother as well.

"Tell Karin and Yuzu I'm sorry," he replied ruefully, his hand tugging at his orange spikes of hair. His hair was starting to get too long. "I'll meet them tonight, I promise."

"This is your promise to them, Kurosaki," Ishida's voice was cool. "Not to me."

"Yeah, yeah," Ichigo muttered. "Look, I'm at the Kuchiki Mansion now."

If Ishida was actually beside him, Ichigo would be positive that the fellow doctor's eyebrows were raised. "Oh, yes? So you're willing to take the risks?"

"Risks?"

"The risks of being recognized by the servants."

"Ishida, that was ten years ago," Ichigo retorted. "And I'm sure that if Rukia didn't recognize me, then they most likely won't either."

"How do you know she didn't recognize you?" Ishida answered, his tone doubtful. "The two of you were childhood friends. I don't think she could completely forget, Kurosaki."

"Well, she did," Ichigo said shortly. He did not enjoy talking about this topic.

"Well," Ishida responded quickly, noting the edge in Ichigo's voice, "It was a good thing your hair was dyed black back then, plus your colored contacts. I don't think that anyone could forget your orange hair for a century."

"Just shut up, Ishida," Ichigo scowled into the phone. "Maybe it's because I was under a false name back then, and that it has nothing to do with my hair."

There was a period of time when Ichigo had been ashamed of his orange hair back in his childhood, the vibrant shade of orange that he had inherited from his beloved mother, who had passed away from his grip, his biggest regret to this very day.

His orange hair was now something he wore like his badge, a proud badge that showed he was his mother's son.

"Anyway, got to go, Ishida," Ichigo said suddenly, spotting a distinguished BMW purring its way towards the gates. A breeze blew across his spikes, and they fluttered, golden against the sunset. "She's here."

"Good luck."

Ichigo grinned. "Thanks."

_Lalala~_

Rukia sniffed at Ichigo as she pushed the door open and he slid in gracefully, long legs and all. "Don't dirty this car. It's our family car."

Ichigo slammed the car door, ignoring her indignant looks. "Yeah, sure."

The black gates slowly rolled open, the elegant black metal swirls moving back. The BMW prowled in triumph as it made its way into its home.

"I don't see why we have to be in this car," Ichigo pointed out skeptically. "I can walk into the gates just fine. It's all about the grand entrance, isn't it?" He threw her a dirty look.

She rested against the leather seat, her eyes closed. The ache at the back of her head had intensified, and her limbs felt weary. "Shut up, Ichigo. Some of us may be more tired than you, you know."

"Are you alright?" Ichigo's voice immediately shifted to concern, the cynicism gone.

Rukia opened her eyes. "Yes. Look, we're here." She nodded as the chauffeur opened the door, his back bent courtly. Ichigo slid out of the car, and Rukia followed suit behind him.

She led him to the front door, her stilettos clicking on the concrete and her handbag swinging. He followed behind, hands in his pockets as he surveyed the surroundings curiously.

If Rukia had looked back, she would have noticed the glint of nostalgia in his amber eyes.

The butler pulled the large, oak door open once more, and Ichigo watched in interest as the wood creaked, grinding slightly against the concrete of the floor.

"Welcome home, Miss Rukia and …" Seiko's wrinkled eyes widened as he caught sight of Ichigo. "Mister… mister Shi-"

"It's not who you think, Seiko." Rukia cut in smoothly. If anyone had listened closely, they would have noticed the haste in her voice, hidden cleverly underneath a layer of brisk coolness. "This is Ichigo Kurosaki, a doctor who can possibly help Hisana."

Seiko bowed, but his eyes strayed to Ichigo more than it was necessary. "I see, Miss Rukia. Would you like to serve tea?"

"We're not here for pleasantries, but…" Rukia hesitated, glancing at Ichigo, who had his eyebrows raised. "A cup of tea for him would be fine."

Seiko nodded graciously, before gliding away, his white hair shining in the dim light.

"Have a seat," Rukia muttered, gesturing at the tatami mats. They were in what Ichigo supposed to be a 'living room', that was if a living room was the size of a ballroom. Shoji doors surrounded them, and Ichigo eyed them carefully.

"Nii-sama likes things in the old Japanese tradition," Rukia explained, taking the small, brown kettle from Seiko –who had rematerialized- and pouring tea into a small wooden cup. Steam rose and curled into the air.

"Who knew that Byakuya is still so old-fashioned?" Ichigo remarked languidly, taking the cup from Rukia. He seated himself in a cross-legged position. "Thanks."

"Don't address my brother so rudely!" Rukia snapped angrily. She dumped her handbag onto the mat. "You are in his house, you know."

"I can tell," Ichigo answered dryly, pointing at the golden sculptures positioned around the shelves and the long, beautiful works of calligraphy hanging from the walls.

"My brother was the one who did the calligraphy," Rukia said proudly. She rose, putting the kettle down onto a round table. "I'm going out to the backyard for a second. You stay here."

Ordering Ichigo to do something never worked. She should know.

He followed her as she stalked out of the mansion, pretending not to notice her annoyed glares.

"What's this?" he asked, his nose wrinkling slightly at a slight stench of hay. Pieces of leaves crunched beneath his shoes.

"Chappy," Rukia declared with pride, lowering herself next to a huge cage. Ichigo's eyebrows shot up as he stared at Rukia's pride and joy.

Who knew she had a pet rabbit?

The creature in question was curled next to a stack of straw, and was currently nibbling on a carrot. Rukia patted its white fur happily through the gaps of the cage. "Isn't she beautiful?"

"I guess," Ichigo was staring at her incredulously. "Who knew Rukia Kuchiki the workaholic liked animals?"

"Hey!" Rukia shot at him. "Don't call me that. And who wouldn't love rabbits?"

"I'm okay with them," Ichigo shrugged. He backed away slightly when Rukia shot him a deadly stare.

"You _what?"_ She sounded as if he had confessed to being a serial killer. "How can you not love them? You monster!"

"Whoa, whoa," Ichigo said, still backing away. "Don't murder me over a rabbit. Think of your sister."

Rukia's eyes immediately softened, and she glanced back at her pet. It stared back at her docilely, front teeth still crunching on its carrot. "Hisana bought this rabbit for me."

Ichigo cocked his head slightly. "I see."

"I always wanted to be a vet," Rukia went on, almost dreamily. "Caring for animals… now that would be pretty cool for me."

"So why didn't you?" Ichigo asked, although he had a feeling he knew.

"You wouldn't understand, Ichigo," Rukia sighed, drawn from her reverie. She stood up. "My family is famous because of the Kuchiki Corps. I have my own duty. My family wouldn't have approved."

"You mean Byakuya wouldn't have approved," Ichigo interjected calmly. He folded his arms as Isshin's face swept past his memory. "Although, Rukia, maybe you'd be surprised by how much a family respects your happiness."

Rukia smiled sadly. "You're a good guy, Ichigo. I know that. But there are some things you can't understand."

The pair moved back to the mansion.

_Lalala_~

"Right," Rukia said authoritatively. "Repeat them again."

Ichigo groaned. "That would be the third time, Rukia!"

The two were standing outside Byakuya and Hisana's bedroom door, Rukia standing just outside the door.

Ichigo sighed, seeing Rukia's persistent glare. "_Fine_. Number one, no touching of things without your permission. Number two, no looking at things that are not medically related to Hisana. Three, no snooping around, which is pretty much the same as number two to me."

"Good," Rukia commented approvingly. She turned, her hand twisting the knob. "No forgetting the three rules, you hear me, strawberry?"

"Yes, now shut up, midget," Ichigo muttered.

She threw him a final dangerous stare before they trod in.

Ichigo's eyes were wide. "What the hell," he remarked. "Why is your sister's bedroom the size of my living room back in my apartment in London?"

Rukia snorted. "Don't be jealous."

Ichigo wasn't lying. The bedroom stretched across a large area, with a beautiful double bed sitting in the center. Silk sheets covered the bed, and a few velvet curtains hung from the roof of the bed, brushing lightly against the mattress.

The floor was a smooth, polished wood and Ichigo scanned the room, observing the dressing table on one side and a study table on the other. A huge wardrobe the size of a small storeroom loomed next to the dressing table.

"The dressing table is Hisana's," Rukia said, pointing. "The study table is my brother's."

"What medicine does your sister take?" Ichigo questioned briskly.

"She has asthma, so she has tons of inhalers," Rukia replied. "Her personal maid takes care of that. Sometimes, if my brother is at home, then he'll take over. She has tons of injections too. The maid used disposable syringes."

"Your maid gives her injections?" Ichigo inquired, looking at Hisana's dressing table. Cosmetics were stacked neatly to a side; lipsticks, foundation tubes, Mascara and etc.

Rukia nodded. "That's right."

Ichigo knelt down next to the trash bin. "Look, there are some syringes still tossed in the bin."

Rukia's pretty features were etched with disapproval. "In all the confusion since Hisana was sent to the hospital, the servants must have forgotten to clear the trash."

"Do you know what medicine was injected into Hisana?" Ichigo asked, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket.

Rukia looked reluctant. "Well I do, because my sister told me the name once, but I was busy then and I may have forgot-"

"The medical name too confusing for you?" Ichigo teased. He grinned at her, revealing white teeth.

Rukia flushed. "No, of course not! I have a photographic memory!" Her voice rose indignantly. "Don't accuse me of things you don't know."

"There should be traces of the medicine left in the syringe. I'll take it to the Seretei Hospital to have it checked. Urahara-san can hel-" Ichigo scooped the syringes up into his handkerchief when Rukia suddenly grabbed his arm.

Her voice was loud with alarm. "Ichigo! The needles! They nearly pricked you!"

Ichigo's eyebrows were arched. She was staring at his hand apprehensively, the syringes rolled up in the cotton of his handkerchief.

"Well, well, what's this?" Ichigo chuckled. "Were you concerned about me?"

Rukia had recovered from her shock, and her cheeks were now burning. "No. I don't want you ruining the syringes with your germs if you're going to check them."

"You know what I think?" Ichigo's breath was suddenly hot in her ear, his voice husky. He had leaned down, his lips near her ear. She shivered, and not because she was cold.

"I think," Ichigo continued, in the same sultry voice, "that Miss _Kuchiki _is scared of needles."

Rukia flushed, all the anger boiling in the pits of her stomach. Suddenly, all her shivering turned into trembling of rage. "_I am not_-"

Her words of denial were cut off when she saw in horror, from the window, another BMW rolling into the yard outside. A very, very familiar, elegant man was stepping out from the car, the chauffeur bowed beside him.

"What's wrong?" Ichigo demanded, catching sight of her horror-stricken face. His amber eyes abruptly widened when a familiar voice spoke from downstairs, echoing up to the room. "I will be heading to my quarters."

A deep, calm baritone.

"Shit!" Ichigo hissed. "Your brother's back! And he's coming here! What do we do?"

Rukia did the only thing she could. She flung the wardrobe door open, and shoved Ichigo with a strength she did not know she possessed into the huge space inside, some of it taken up by Hisana's dresses. He went in half-willingly, his eyes glaring at her.

With that, she pulled herself in next to him into the darkness, slamming the wardrobe shut as silently yet as swiftly as she could, just as the bedroom door opened.

Byakuya walked in.

**I love GinRan. Woohoo. Anyway, please review, REVIEW! It's such a wonderful fuel for us fellow authors, so I'm sure you guys can understand! xD**


	9. Chapter 9

**I love everyone who reviewed, even the review which gave me constructive criticism, I guess. I'll repeat again**_**: everything which baffles everyone right now has a resolution to it**_**. So about Ichigo not telling Rukia that he's a childhood friend and his old disguise…. Just stay tuned! Thanks for reading, you awesome people!  
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.**

Well, this was awkward.

Rukia could never remember when she had felt so undignified before, unless she counted those days before she had been adopted into the Kuchiki family at age eight. The proud lawyer was now curled up in a dark wardrobe with Ichigo, her body squashed up against his side due to the limited space available. It looked like Hisana's wardrobe was not as big as she thought, especially with such a tall, lanky man like Ichigo in it. Layers of silk draped her face and she tried to push the fabric to one side. The smell of wood was thick in the air.

She didn't know why she had jumped into the wardrobe alongside Ichigo. Her reaction had been made at the spur of the moment, and one part of her had been panicking at the thought of Byakuya's disapproval on her intruding disrespectfully into his quarters.

While she was most displeased at being caught in this situation and her heart was still racing with fear and panic, she couldn't deny that lying against Ichigo felt nice…

He was deliciously warm, and she could feel the firm, sleek muscles ripple along his clothed shoulder (where she was propped against) as he shifted slightly. She felt the silky tips of his overlong hair along his neck brush against her forehead. It was so much softer than his spikes implied. His scent bordered on sexy, of _virility_, yet comforting as well. She held back the desire to lean closer and take in more of his warm, masculine scent…

Rukia suddenly became aware of all the sensations pouring over her, and shame at once threatened to engulf the lawyer. She quickly reeled herself away from Ichigo as much as possible (which was about a few centimeters), her body stiffening. She couldn't see a single thing from the pitch black darkness in the confines of the wardrobe, but she heard him snort and mutter something so quietly she nearly couldn't catch. Nearly.

"_Am I so repulsive?"_

His words sent a tinge of unexpected guilt shoot through her body. How could she tell Ichigo that the reason she moved away from him was because he was _too_ attractive?

The petite woman started when Ichigo suddenly leaned forward from beside her (she could feel his shoulder brush lightly against her head, accompanied by a new streak of his warm scent) and a tiny ray of light peeked through the darkness from before her. ..

Horror curled in Rukia's gut when she realized just what he'd done.

"The door!" She whispered furiously. Her hand shot out to slam the door back fully, to close the tiny gap he had opened between the doors. _What if Byakuya saw them?_

But Ichigo's far bigger hand caught hold of her small wrist in an iron grip, and he shook his head. She could make him out better now due to the mild light slithering through the gap of the wooden doors. His bright orange hair might have also been another reason.

He was mouthing something then. "Oxygen."

Rukia's eyes widened. How could she have forgotten such a crucial point? It was his entire fault. Slumped next to him, she had completely forgotten everything else on her mind, with only _Ichigo, Ichigo_ ringing in her dazed brain.

This would not do. The self-sufficient Rukia seemed to crumble beside this… this… man.

He seemed to sense her shock at having forgotten about the air supply, and his lips curled a triumphant smirk at her, amber eyes gleaming slyly.

She ignored him, and shoved his stupid head to one side with her hands. He yelped almost inaudibly as he ended up having his head stuffed within a pile of Hisana's undergarments hanging above him. Rukia chuckled inwardly at her revenge before positioning en eye before the gap in the wardrobe doors.

The sight before her nearly made her cry.

Her brother, the beautiful, majestic man that was Kuchiki Byakuya, was currently holding her sister's picture from which was originally placed on his study desk, and gazing at it with an unmistakable look of sorrow and pain, his grey eyes soft with melancholy. The way he held the picture resembled the way one held a diamond.

It occurred to Rukia then that her stoic brother could possibly be taking this harder than she did.

She looked up when she realized Ichigo had repositioned himself above her, his sharp chin just hovering at the top of her head as he gazed out from the gap as well.

This time, his scent did not distract her, but rather it comforted her. She inhaled the masculine, assuring warmth that was Ichigo and told herself to calm down.

His large hand descended on her shoulder lightly, and she looked up to see him gazing down at her with sympathy.

The pair continued watching as Byakuya stared at the photograph. Finally, he pressed the frame tenderly against his lips, and Rukia's heart throbbed as he lowered the photograph back onto his desk, still looking softly at it. Hisana smiled cheerily up at him from within the frame, her violet eyes dancing.

Rukia wouldn't deny that her brother was a cruel man at times. He had made a lot of her life miserable at with his insane expectations and crushing words. He was far too devoted to his work, and was fiercely keen to uphold the family name.

He loved just as fiercely.

Rukia had never seen a man love a woman so passionately before, but like everything Byakuya did, he was unwavering. What Hisana wanted, Hisana got.

Rukia remembered when her sister had once absently pointed out to Rukia that the ambassador of Japan had seen every single one of Hisana's dresses at parties and meetings, and Byakuya had been nearby. The man had not shown any outward reaction, but the next day, Hisana was running down the stairs and happily telling Rukia how 'Byakuya-sama' had bought her a complete new wardrobe of gowns.

When Hisana had pointed out her melancholy at seeing animals mistreated, her brother had instantly set up his connections to the SPCA and opened a new branch right in Japan under the Kuchiki name.

Rukia knew her brother would be willing to do anything to save Hisana, to have his beloved by his side once more, and there were times when she wondered…

_Is there a man willing to do the same for me?_

Kuchiki Byakuya straightened himself elegantly, and he removed his long, black coat gracefully, his dark silky tresses flowing on his lean shoulders. Rukia watched, with bated breath, as her brother strode regally into the bathroom, the door closing behind him silently.

Ichigo and Rukia waited until the trickling sounds of rushing water echoed into the room from the bath, before they pushed the wardrobe doors open, and slid out stealthily. Rukia was busy straightening out the creases on her blouse when Ichigo grabbed her, causing her to let out an indignant squeak. He opened the bedroom door and they ran out, trying not to make noise. Her muscles felt slightly cramped from being squashed in the wardrobe.

The two made their way down the spiral staircase, and came across Seiko perched at the base of the staircase, bowed.

"Thank you, Seiko," Rukia said breathlessly. She brushed back the dark bang hanging between her violet eyes, which simply swung back. "For not telling Nii-sama about Ichigo."

The old man had never looked slyer than he did. His wrinkled eyes twinkled and he smiled innocently. "Not telling Mr Kuchiki about whom, Miss Rukia?"

Ichigo laughed, running his hand through his thick, orange bangs. He stood beside Rukia, stretching his long, lithe form like a cat. "Well, I guess I'd better be going."

"Wait!" The word slipped from Rukia's lips before she could stop it. There it was again, that reluctance to part with him. Only this time, it felt far stronger.

He glanced at her lazily. "Yeah?"

"Where do you live?" She demanded, pacing alongside him as they headed to the entrance of the mansion, Seiko trailing obediently behind them.

"Why do you want to know?" He asked teasingly, his lips curling into a smirk. "Do you want to stalk me?"

"Of course not!" Rukia had to fight the urge to throttle him. Why was she feeling so attached to this guy anyway? "Is it wrong to want to know where my sister's doctor lives?"

Ichigo raised his eyebrows. "I live in an apartment Urahara-san provided for me."

Now it was Rukia's turn to look surprised. "You don't live with your family? I thought you came to Japan to see them."

"That…" he abruptly hesitated. Rukia could make out the whirl of raw emotions swirl through the amber eyes. How could he tell her that living in the same mansion as Isshin would only attract attention from the paparazzi? How could he tell her that he _was Isshin's son_? "It's… complicated."

Rukia flushed. This was the first time that Ichigo had openly denied her information about him, and she felt… disappointed, and if she would admit it, hurt. Mentally she berated herself for even feeling such things. Ichigo was no one to her, and he was under no obligation to tell her anything about himself. Only… she had told him her dreams of wanting to be a vet, revealed to him her insecurities about her sister and yet _hardly knew anything_ about him.

It was _him_ all over again.

"I understand," she replied stiffly, as they paused while Seiko pushed the large, oak door open with the usual _creak _that reverberated across the grand hallway. Rukia folded her arms primly.

"Jeez, Rukia," Ichigo said awkwardly, rubbing his neck. "I'm sorry."

Before she could reply however, a sudden rumble echoed across her belly. Her face turned a deep scarlet as Ichigo stared at her incredulously, his guilty look gone, before bursting into laugher.

"Shut up!" She hissed, still humiliated by her body's betrayal. Seiko's head was lowered to hide his smile. Rukia hadn't even realized how famished she was. The woman had not eaten since her 'lunch' with Ichigo, and it was nearly eight now.

Ichigo wiped his eyes, his laughter ceasing, although his expression was still teasing and amused. The man lowered his hands into his sweater, and hunched slightly over her. "Look," he said smilingly, "I'm going to cook dinner at home. You want to come?"

"Why should I?" Rukia snapped, still affronted by her rumbling tummy. "I can eat a far better quality dinner here in my home."

She regretted her words as soon as she said it. Ichigo stiffened and she could vividly see hurt smear across his golden eyes as he straightened up. "Well, sorry for asking then, about my low-class offer," he replied coldly. The doctor turned and strode out onto the front porch. "See you, Miss Kuchiki."

The fact that he called her _Miss Kuchiki _hurt her more than anything else, not forgetting the mocking tilt in his voice as he said it.

She looked at Seiko, who nodded at her –as if giving her his consent- as Ichigo walked on. Away.

Rukia didn't want Ichigo as a professional acquaintance. She wanted him as her friend.

"Ichigo!" She shouted, running forward. Her stocking clad feet bounced on the hard concrete. "Wait!"

He looked back slightly, his head tilted to the side. "What?"

"I would like to come to your place and eat dinner," she responded steadily, grabbing hold of his sleeve. His eyes flashed in surprise. "May I?" She added shyly.

The doctor finally grinned then, and Rukia knew she was forgiven. "Yeah."

If only she knew he was the happiest man in the world right then.

_Lalala~_

Rukia had not dared to take the family BMW, for it was far too suspicious. Byakuya had definitely noticed the family BMW when he arrived at the mansion, and its sudden absence would have registered on his sharp mind. Also, the use of the family BMW for going to Ichigo's place would have definitely attracted attention from the public, and Rukia wasn't going to bet on the paparazzi being absent. They were vultures, capable of springing anywhere.

So they had taken the cab.

Rukia had flatly refused Ichigo's insistence to take the subway, and the poor cab driver had had to endure their bickering throughout the whole ride.

"I'm telling you, the train is far more environmentally friendly!"

"Can you imagine me, Rukia Kuchiki, on the train? The public will go crazy!"

"Are you saying your reputation means more than the environment?"

"Are you calling me environmentally unfriendly?!"

"So what if I am?"

"Well, then you had better watch out, Kurosaki Ichigo! I won't forgive you for this!"

"Oh my, I am so scared!"

"You should be!"

"Yes, I'm scared of someone nearly half my size!"

"Shut up, you berry-head!"

The driver coughed politely, his eardrums starting to ring. He turned back reluctantly, hands clutching the stained steering wheel until his knuckles were white, as the couple behind him continued to yell at the other.

_Married couple these days_, he thought disapprovingly, _so much bickering and sexual tension._

"Excuse me," he called politely, leaning back against his driver's seat.

The pair looked up hotly from their argument, and glared at the cabbie. "What!?"

The man gulped. He made a mental note to never pick up married couples again in his little cab. "We've reached. Since ten minutes ago."

At least they had the decency to look embarrassed. The tiny woman's face was slightly pink as she coughed primly and handed the cabbie a few bills. The young man handed the cabbie a fair share of his own money and scowled.

Then he said stubbornly: "If we've taken the train, none of this would have happened."

And it all started again.

The cabbie popped a few aspirins into his mouth as the couple argued and got out of the cab at the same time.

Even after they were gone, he could still hear them yelling a distance away.

Yes, he was definitely going to stay away from married couples.

_Lalala~_

Rukia followed Ichigo crossly as they entered a block of apartments. It was a fairly decent place, she noted, with walls that were painted a light, tranquil blue and granite floors. The air was fresh and pleasant, not to mention a huge, green garden that stretched out from just outside the block. Tall trees stood proudly around the block, explaining the freshness and coolness of the air. Leaves flew across the walls from the breeze.

Rukia's eyebrows rose as Ichigo sauntered past the elevator. "Oi, Ichigo! You just passed the lift!"

Ichigo nodded. "I know, midget. I don't use lifts unless I can help it. I use…" He pointed at something horrifying before Rukia. "The stairs. It's far healthier, you know."

"What?" The lawyer squealed, her violet eyes huge in shock. She nearly dropped her handbag. "Just what floor do you live on?"

"The eighth," Ichigo answered nonchalantly as he strode on, his black shoes clicking on the smooth granite. The doctor stopped when he realized Rukia hadn't moved at all. "What's wrong, midget? Don't you have a glamorous staircase of your own at home?"

"You expect me to climb _eight floors_?!" Rukia screeched, taking a step back. She swiped an indignant hand at Ichigo. "Forget it! I'm taking the lift! You have fun with your beloved stairs!"

Ichigo's eyebrows shot up and Rukia realized he was looking very amused. "It's healthier to take the stairs, Rukia. That's why I hardly fall ill. I take the stairs every time, even back in London." Rukia inwardly noted the small reason for his impressive physique.

"Well, have fun being healthy, Ichigo," she said smartly, stalking towards the elevator, her stilettos jabbing the floor viciously, "While I take the lift."

Rukia slammed her manicured hand onto the button, and stared as the elevator doors refused to open. The empty lift faced her mockingly, the metal doors still as firmly closed as ever. "What's going on?"

"I forgot to mention," Ichigo went on, sounding like he was enjoying himself very, very much, "that the lift is out of order as well."

Rukia nearly passed out. "ICHIGOOOO!"

_Lalala~ _

Rukia swore she hated Ichigo Kurosaki very much.

As she heaved herself up the stairs, her legs aching, she glared at Ichigo's back as he effortlessly scaled the steps. He was already one floor above her, and Rukia knew that this was with him slowing down for her sake. It was his long legs, damn it!

Her heels tottered, and she grabbed onto the peeling railing. "I hate you."

"You shouldn't wear those shoes, you know," He frowned down at her, amber eyes filled with concern. "They're bad for you. Especially with such incredibly high heels."

"Shut up! I wear what I want!" She retorted weakly. Honestly, she'd just finished an exhausting day of work, and Ichigo was sending her on such torture already.

He seemed to notice the exhaustion on her face, and he climbed back down to her side.

She waved him away desperately. "Get lost! This is nothing to me!"

He snorted, his usual scowl on his face, and she shrieked as he scooped her up effortlessly. "Put me down!" Rukia screamed, her voice colored with shame. "I'm Kuchiki Rukia, for heaven's sake! I don't need to be _carried_!"

God, it was embarrassing. Rukia was the one who was with authority and power, and she prayed that no one from the Kuchiki Corps would see her like this.

"Shut up, midget," Ichigo shot back. He began climbing the stairs again, and Rukia noted in annoyance that he was still climbing with the same ease and grace despite the fact that he was carrying her. "Has anyone told you how light you are? It's freaking me out. Have you been eating at all?"

Rukia scowled. With all her workload, getting by with even two full meals was a feat. What would he understand about the responsibilities a Kuchiki had?

But her heart unconsciously warmed at his concern.

"And stop wearing the heels, for heaven's sake," Ichigo ploughed on, ignoring her poisonous glares, "At least not the six inches, my god. You're so tiny I fear you'll fall over anytime. Not to mention it's bad for your health."

"Oh, please," Rukia muttered. "At least you're not short."

She had mostly been talking to herself, and certainly did not expect Ichigo to catch her words. He was eyeing her in surprise, and much to her chagrin, dawning comprehension.

"So it's like this, huh?" he commented. They had reached the eighth floor, it seemed, as he walked away from the stairs, still carrying her bridal style. She hadn't even been keeping count of the stairs, too distracted by him. "You feel insecure about your height without them."

Rukia scowled at him.

"Honestly, Rukia," Ichigo asked disbelievingly. "Do you really think people care so much about your height?"

"You call me midget all the time," Rukia said heatedly. She looked away from him, despite her body being curled against his hard, warm chest. Her cheeks were flushed.

"Well… yes," Ichigo admitted reluctantly. He sighed, and she could feel it reverberate right through his chest. "Look, I'm sorry about that. I'll try not to call you that too often in the future. _But…"_ he adjusted his hold on her as he fished for his keys from the pocket of his sweater. "I want you to know that it wasn't those heels or your height that brought you to where you are now. It was your hard work, wasn't it?" He smiled down at the lawyer, who was staring at him. "Thousands of taller people work under you. I think you should be proud of your height, because it shows that shortness doesn't mean a thing."

He finally lowered Rukia onto the floor gently, and she balanced herself, suddenly unused to the lack of the warmth his body had provided her. They stood outside a long door along the corridor, and Ichigo inserted the key into the lock.

"I think," Rukia mused slowly, "that I should call you 'strawberry' less often too. You told me what your name really means, right? To protect." She smiled slightly. "I like that."

It seemed they had come to their first compromise.

_Lalala~_

Rukia's jaw dropped open as Ichigo casually threw his sweater onto the couch, ignoring his coats' rack standing neglected next to the door. She removed her heels, appalled by the messiness of the place.

Magazines and books were strewn all over the coffee table. A few jeans and some coats lay scattered all over his couch, now with a fresh addition of his discarded sweater. An empty cup, thankfully clean, sat on the table.

"What is this?" Rukia demanded, distaste in her mouth. "And don't just throw the sweater so carelessly, my sister's syringes are inside!"

Ichigo looked at her strangely. "What do you mean, what this is? This is my apartment."

"I'm surprised I can even see it underneath this mess," Rukia fired at him, her head shaking in disapproval. She was already walking to the couch, picking up his sweater and then proceeding to dust it with her hand. She secretly relished his lingering warmth on the fabric.

Ichigo's lips unconsciously formed a smile as he watched her from behind. His voice was, however, far from soft. "What are you, my housekeeper?"

Rukia wheeled around on her heel as she stared daggers at him. "Even a housekeeper wouldn't be enough for you!"

Ichigo sighed, reaching out and taking the sweater from her. "My sister Yuzu used to do all the housework. She's amazing, really. Now I'm useless without her." He smiled, and Rukia could make out the soft nostalgia in his expression. And she knew.

He missed his sister, and he didn't love her any less than how much Rukia loved Hisana.

A sudden ripple of hunger ran through her stomach, and she winced. She was so hungry that it was bordering on painful. "Oi, didn't you say that you'll cook?" Rukia demanded, pushing Ichigo slightly and grabbing the sweater from him. He looked down at her in surprise. "I'm starving!"

He laughed. "Right. Look, I'll just go change. Do you think you can go start the stove?"

Rukia stared at him blankly. "…Sure."

Ichigo wasn't fooled, however. He leaned down, eyeing her incredulously. "Please… don't tell me that the great Kuchiki Rukia doesn't even know how to light a stove?"

Rukia flinched, before crossing her arms haughtily. "The chiefs do that, anyway!"

Ichigo sighed again, though she could make out the amusement in his golden eyes, much to her irritation. "I'll go do it then. You stay here. Sit down and relax."

He left the living room, leaving Rukia standing alone in humiliation. She shook her head vigorously. Rukia Kuchiki did not stand idle in the company of others aside from her servants back home.

She looked at the living room, her lip curled. It was time to do something about the mess.

Rukia fished her hand into her handbag, a small grin on her face.

_Lalala~_

"Dinner's ready!" Ichigo called from the kitchen, turning off the stove and ladling boiling miso soup into a bowl. Steam curled from the ladle. The long white sleeves of his buttoned shirt were rolled up above his elbow, and he brushed stray strands of his orange locks away from his eyes.

Ichigo piled steaming rice from the rice cooker into more bowls, wondering why Rukia had not replied to him. Was she ignoring him?

He shook his head, smiling softly.

The doctor picked up the two bowls of rice, and placed it carefully on a tray, along with the large porcelain bowl of miso soup. The food smelt delicious and he inhaled deeply.

Speaking of nice scents…

He couldn't forget Rukia's scent of _strawberries_, of all things. She obviously used strawberry shampoo, and she smelt absolutely _delicious _every time she was near him.

It made him want to hold her closer and just feast on her scent.

"Dinner is ready, Rukia!" he shouted again, walking out with his tray, the aroma of miso wafting.

His jaw dropped and he nearly dropped the tray.

His living room was… neat. Books were lined in his shelves and his coats were hanging from the rack. His jeans were neatly folded to one side. The coffee table was spotless, save for the cup. She had obviously wiped it with a handkerchief or something.

But that wasn't what shocked him. It was the sight of all the Chappy sticky notes plastered over his shelves, table, coat rack and some even on the top of his couch. Rukia stood before her 'masterpiece', smiling in self-satisfaction.

Ichigo set down the steaming tray onto the dining table, glaring at her. "What did you do?"

Rukia stared at him, her violet orbs affronted. "Well, excuse me for tidying up your living room for you. Is that dinner? It smells good."

"Goddammit, Rukia, I'm talking about those rabbit notes all over my living room!"

"Oh, those," Rukia smirked smugly. She pointed a red nail at one of the chappy sticky notes. "They're to remind you where the things should go. They're labels. Let me show you."

She walked up to a sticky note on a shelf. "This is your medical section, where you keep all your medical books." The sticky note was clearly written, "Medical" in her neat handwriting.

Ichigo's eyes were wide as he stood behind her. "I don't remember having a section like that."

"That's because I set it for you," Rukia replied triumphantly. Her pink lips smirked. "And those are for your magazines." Her voice held a tinge of contempt and disapproval.

Ichigo didn't need to hear her voice to know she disliked the magazines. On the chappy note attached to another shelf was written, "Unwanted trash. Advised not to read."

"Of course," Rukia added, currently in her element. She barreled on happily. "As for your sweater…" She nodded at a note attached to the sweater which was hanging from the rack, "… I labeled the syringes as 'IMPORTANT' so you can't forget to bring them to the hospital tomorrow."

Ichigo smiled at last, his head shaking in disbelief. "You're one of a kind, Rukia Kuchiki."

"Of course," Rukia replied confidently, her arms crossed with the air of the victorious. "This way you'll never make a mess again." She suddenly shot him a suspicious look. "You'd better have meant that in a nice way, Kurosaki Ichigo."

"Of course I did, Rukia," Ichigo was still smiling at her. "While these Rabbit things are annoying, they are a help, I suppose." Who was he kidding, he was never going to remove those Chappy notes.

He could bet that if he sniffed the paper, the sweet scent of strawberries would be there.

Rukia nodded smugly, but the smile quickly faded when she saw a flash of purple from beneath the bottoms of his jeans, which had lifted slightly as he moved.

She didn't understand why she hadn't noticed it before.

"Let me see that," Rukia demanded, dropping down and grabbing at his jean from below.

Ichigo yelped, trying to shake her off. "What are you doing?!"

"There!" she announced, holding the fabric of the jean up, revealing his shin. She forced herself not to admire the long, lean leg, and jabbed a finger at the bruise. "I did this to you when I kicked you at the café, right?"

He looked down. "I guess. It doesn't matter."

"It does," Rukia insisted. "I don't want to be responsible for any trouble. Let me take a closer look at that. I have some ointment in my bag."

"I'm a doctor, Rukia!" Ichigo retorted, reaching out and trying to haul her off his leg. She held on stubbornly. "I know when it's nothing."

"I'll solve whatever I cause!" She snapped, clawing at the sides of his leg as he grabbed at her shoulder. "Let-me- _oof!_"

Rukia let out a gasp. Ichigo had succeeded in pulling her off but had underestimated the amount of force at which she had been clutching his leg, being a little too strong himself- causing her to fall extremely violently in the direction he was pulling her to –_towards him_.

Her sudden weight surprised him and he toppled backwards as she fell sprawled over his body. They landed on the floor with a heavy _thud, _with him cushioning her blow from beneath her.

They lay there for a while, unmoving.

Rukia and Ichigo stared into each other's eyes. She was just on top of his chest, straddling him, her fingers splayed on his shirt. Her face was only a few inches away from his, and she could feel his hot breath on her skin.

The masculine warmth she had been so attracted to came back in full blast, washing over her body like a slight sedate. It dulled her senses, and simply drew her in like a moth to flame.

For his part, he held her, arms over her waist, holding her soft, petite form to him. She felt so tiny in his embrace, so vulnerable, and yet so sweet-smelling with her strawberry scent. Her dark locks brushed against his chin.

It was like holding her all over again ten years ago.

Violet met golden as they continued staring. They were so caught up with each other that they failed to hear the door of the apartment open.

Lips automatically drew towards the other.

They could both fight about it, but Rukia Kuchiki and Ichigo Kurosaki were attracted to each other.

The lips were so close that their breaths mingled…

"Ichi-nii?"

"Onii-chan?"

**Really sad I couldn't put GinRan in this, but hey, there's still next chapter! –comforts myself- Anyway, reviews make my life worth living!**


	10. Chapter 10

**I want to thank all the awesome reviewers, because you guys have no idea just how much your reviews mean to me! I've finally hit the tenth chapter of my first fic, and I seriously couldn't go so far without **_**any**_** one of you! I know some people have been complaining about the cliffhangers, but it's just that I like ending my chapters fashionably. I'll try my best not to overdo it though, so please bear with it, my awesome reviewers! I love you all!  
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.**

Behind several bushes sat two men on a few wooden stools. Moonlight illuminated their silhouettes. They were dressed casually in black jackets and faded jeans, and slightly dirty loafers from touching the soil for so long. One man, well-built and of medium height, with a huge video camera clutched in his hand, had his beady eyes feasted hungrily on the block of apartments before him.

The other man beside him, still in his teens, wore a cap and he was watching the building before him just as intently. His long hands were stuffed in the pockets of his jacket.

"Did you see that, Yukio?" Ginjo spoke enthusiastically to his younger companion, a smirk dancing his lips. "Rukia Kuchiki going into a _man's_ apartment? Looks like her days of being single are numbered!" He waved his video camera happily.

"I saw that, Ginjo," Yukio responded calmly. He tapped his foot on the earth pensively, but Ginjo could easily sense the growing excitement in the boy. "This could definitely hint at a non-platonic relationship. In fact, this could be huge."

"Huge?" Ginjo repeated disbelievingly. "Yukio, this could be _it!_ The scoop that everyone's been looking for! If we manage to get this, all the other reporters are going to be livid with jealousy! This little treasure here…" He triumphantly tapped the cool metal of his camera. "…could be the very thing! I don't care if we have to camp here all night, because if she spends the night in this man's apartment, then… well, I'll be dammed!" His voice rose in anticipation. "No one has gotten a thing from the Kuchiki family lately, what with Kuchiki Byakuya hushing anything up cleverly!"

"Still, that man she was with…" Yukio frowned. He tugged at his blonde locks in mild frustration. "Who is he?"

Ginjo glanced at his companion, frowning as well. "Well, he does look familiar…. Wait. That orange hair… if I'm not wrong, he was standing outside the Seretei hospital with Ishida Uryuu on the day Hisana Kuchiki was sent there!"

"He was with Ichida Uryuu?" Yukio replied in surprise. His frown deepened. "Who is this man? To have connections with both the Ishidas and the Kuchikis, he can't just be anyone random. Yet his face doesn't ring a bell."

"Kuchiki Rukia and him were arguing really loudly when they walked into the block," Ginjo recalled. He shifted on the stool lightly, brushing a leaf from his broad shoulder. "I think she called him Ichigo or something like that."

Yukio fished a smartphone from his pocket, and began dialing a number. "I'm going to make some calls." He pressed the mobile to his ear, looking at Ginjo seriously. "We need to find out who that man is."

_Lalala~_

It took Rukia and Ichigo a few seconds to register the voices. During those few seconds they remained frozen in their positions- Rukia straddling Ichigo, him holding her tightly, their lips _slightly_ apart. The spell did not break too easily.

Then Rukia let out an undignified shriek, and heaved herself hastily up by pressing both hands heavily onto Ichigo's chest, causing him to gasp in pain. She quickly balanced herself, straightened the creases on her clothes, before bowing politely at the two intruders.

Karin Kurosaki and Yuzu Kurosaki stood together, their mouths open. Karin was a little taller than her sister, with long black hair that cascaded down her back, and had a face structure similar to Ichigo's. Yuzu was of a slighter form, and her face was softer, more feminine, with huge, round eyes that spoke of innocence. Her hair color, however, resembled more of Ichigo's, albeit a lighter shade of orange, more like brown. Both sisters were slim and apparently in their late teens.

Rukia smiled at the pair sweetly, her voice going high-pitched in sugary tones. "Judging from what you called the strawberry, you must be his sisters. It's such a pleasure to meet you. I'm Rukia Kuchiki." She ignored Ichigo's dirty looks as he lurched himself to his feet beside her, his tall frame looming in contrast beside Rukia's small form.

He rubbed his neck. "Yuzu. Karin. How did you guys even get the keys to come in?"

"Urahara-san gave us the spare keys. But I think we interrupted something, Ichi-nii," Karin replied, her thin, black eyebrows wriggling suggestively. "Give it a few hours and I would have been on my way to becoming an aunt."

"Karin-chan!" Yuzu cried indignantly, reeling in horror. Her cheeks were slightly pink. Ichigo flinched, his face scarlet.

Rukia, too, was blushing slightly, but she straightened herself daintily. "I assure you that Ichigo and I were not doing anything… of that nature," she said firmly, forcing herself not to look at said man beside her. Rukia herself secretly knew that without the sisters' arrival, Ichigo and she would have definitely… _kissed._

It was mortifying, that she would have so easily given in to such carnal temptations. What would her brother say?

"We came here to join you for dinner, Onii-chan," Yuzu added, peering joyfully up at her big brother with huge, brown eyes. He smiled fondly down at her. "Ishida-san told us you promised." She turned to look at Rukia, a friendly smile gracing her lips. "Hello! I'm Yuzu Kurosaki, and that's my sister, Karin Kurosaki! We're both delighted to meet Onii-chan's girlfriend. He hasn't had one, you know, for over a decade, and Karin-chan and I were really worried!"

"_Yuzu_!" Ichigo blurted out, his cheeks still red in embarrassment. Rukia couldn't deny she was enjoying this, watching him squirm.

"I'm sorry, but he still hasn't got a girlfriend now," she answered casually, her voice still sickly sweet, though glee was threatening to penetrate her voice. Ichigo threw her a disgusted look. "I'm not his girlfriend. I'm merely a friend he invited over. And yes, please, let's have dinner together. It would be such a pleasure. Ichigo just finished cooking, and I'm famished."

The group trooped to the dining table, and Rukia watched with a small smile as both girls threw themselves at Ichigo, chattering excitedly. He regarded them fondly, and Rukia could tell that Ichigo loved his sisters very, very much.

Rukia could hardly remember the last time she and Hisana had interacted in such a way. Hisana was often ill, and Rukia herself dedicated to much time to her work. All these regrets were starting to overwhelm her as she watched Ichigo laughing with his sisters.

Kurosaki Ichigo. Just who was this man? Why did he make her _feel _so much? Was this what her brother-in-law had experienced when he met Hisana- that had caused him to go against everything he believed in to be with her?

She mentally shook herself. Her relationship with Ichigo wasn't like that. Perhaps they shared a certain physical attraction, but there was nothing outside of that.

They sat down, except for Ichigo, who went into the kitchen to get more bowls of rice for the twins. Rukia smiled lightly at the sisters, whose eyes were fixed curiously on her from where they sat opposite. "Can I ask you something?" the lawyer said, pulling in her chair, which scraped inaudibly against the floor.

"Sure!" Yuzu piped up excitedly, tapping the table. "Ask us anything! It's an honor for us to answer someone as famous as you!" Karin shot the girl a warning look, but Yuzu ignored her.

"If you say Ichigo doesn't have a girlfriend, then can you tell me why he wears a woman's necklace?" Rukia inquired curiously. She waved some of the steam away from the bowl of miso soup beside her. "He was holding it the first time I met him."

"Oh, that." Yuzu's enthusiasm seemed to die down. Her gaze turned sober, although her smile remained intact. "You see… that necklace is special to all of us. It's our mother's. She died some years ago."

"Oh." Rukia suddenly felt terrible. She had shouted at Ichigo in his clinic, accused him of being a terrible doctor, when he had only been late for a few minutes to claim his mother's necklace back. She had been so wrong.

Ichigo was an amazing doctor.

"I'm so sorry," Rukia added quietly. "It must have been tough for all of you." Why was it that all her precious male friends had to lose their mothers? _He_ had also been terribly heart-broken ten years ago… It was the first time she had seen him so desolate before.

"Oh, don't apologize," Karin waved her hand nonchalantly, although Rukia knew that what the girl felt was far from nonchalant. "It's not your fault. Can I ask you something now?"

Rukia liked this girl. She reminded her of Ichigo somehow. She was blunt, straight to the point, and seemingly unfazed by Rukia and her fame.

"Of course you may," Rukia answered warmly.

Karin jabbed a finger at the Chappy stickers plastered all over the living room. "Did you do this?"

Rukia snickered. "Yes, I did. Ichigo seems to be very messy, and I thought I should help him out."

To her surprise, Karin started grinning. "I like you."

"Alright, alright!" The trio looked up as Ichigo made his entrance from the kitchen, carrying two steaming bowls of rice. His customary scowl was fixed on his features as he made his way to the table. "Karin, you don't have to encourage Rukia to bully me."

"She's cooler than you," Karin informed him bluntly, taking the bowls. His scowl deepened. "You should learn a thing or two from her."

"Thank you, Karin," Rukia chirped, sending Ichigo a smug look as she tucked into her rice. He snorted at her, before seating himself beside the woman, still scowling venomously.

Rukia didn't notice the slight glint of happiness in his amber eyes though.

"How's it?" he asked her, nodding at the rice.

Rukia swallowed thickly, as the delicious taste of fresh rice made its way down her throat. "It's fine. Doesn't beat the food I usually have, though."

Ichigo scoffed. "Thanks for showing your appreciation."

Rukia didn't tell him that what truly made the food delicious was the sense of family that came with it. Watching Ichigo laugh with his sisters, bickering with him, and just basically being with them lit up something warm in her chest.

She hardly got to eat with Hisana, who was often bed-ridden, and Byakuya was occasionally away from home due to work. Heck, she hardly ate full meals herself, as it were.

She badly wanted to introduce this to Hisana and Byakuya. This feeling of _family._

"Oh, Onii-chan," Yuzu spoke, swallowing mouthfuls of miso. She picked at a blob of tofu on her rice. "Guess what! Inoue-san is coming to Japan too! She wants to join us. She closed the clinic temporarily, so no worries about your patients."

Rukia watched as Ichigo broke into a smile. "That's great."

"Inoue…?" She murmured. The lawyer took in her last gulps of rice and seaweed. "Is that your nurse, Ichigo?"

Ichigo nodded. "She's very nice. In fact, she's been a family friend for quite a while. You should meet her properly one day."

Rukia felt something like bile form in her throat. She didn't like it. Didn't like it that she was feeling unhappy over Ichigo talking about another woman that way.

"I'm sure I'll love to," Rukia commented serenely, forcing herself to look casual. Rukia was a first-class actress after all, and she prided herself for that.

The woman stood up, picking up her empty bowl. "Well, I'm done. That was good."

"Ehhh…" Yuzu looked up, her eyes widening. She pulled at the ladle poking out from the bowl of miso soup. "Have a second bowl, Rukia-san! You're so thin, you should eat more!"

"Yuzu's right," Ichigo added, moving away from his bowl. "I'll get you a second round-"

"Oh, no," Rukia cut him off casually. All mention of Inoue Orihime had wiped away her remaining appetite. The nurse was coming to Japan. Ichigo was going to spend time with her. Just picturing the auburn, busty girl laughing and giggling with Ichigo made Rukia' stomach twist.

This wasn't jealousy. It couldn't be.

"I'm full, thank you," she finished. The Kuchiki treaded into the kitchen. "Where's your basin?"

Ichigo followed her closely behind. "You should eat more, Rukia. You barely weighed anything when I carried you just now. Listen to a doctor."

Rukia ignored him, dumping her empty bowl into the basin. It clanked noisily against the cold, wet metal, and the chopsticks rolled beside it. Suddenly, all her weariness of the day seemed to weigh on her shoulders once more. Her initial happiness was rapidly draining away, as if into the very basin before her.

Hisana, in the hospital, possibly dying. Rukia, going against her brother's back. Another long day at work.

"I'm a little tired, Ichigo," Rukia said. She pressed her fingers tightly on the coolness of the top of the basin, black bangs brushing over her eyes. "Can I sit on your couch for a bit?"

Ichigo's amber eyes immediately flooded with concern. "Of course. Are you alright?"

"You're talking to Rukia Kuchiki here," the lawyer retorted, turning around and pushing past him gently. "I just need to sit for a while. Don't mind me and eat your dinner."

Ichigo's eyes remained on her the whole while as she brushed past him, the top of her head grazing his shoulder lightly. Another whiff of the strawberry scent blew past his nose, and then she was out of the kitchen.

He hadn't missed the sadness in her eyes, and suddenly, all he wanted to do was to hold her and embrace her with all the love he could give someone.

_Lalala~_

Rukia heaved an inaudible sigh as she watched the scene before her. Ichigo and Yuzu were fighting to give the other the last slice of carrot, while Karin watched them in amusement from her chair.

"Just take it, Ichi-nii!" Yuzu's cute voice drifted from the dining table to where Rukia sat curled on the couch. "Or I'll get angry!"

"I'm the one who's going to be angry, dammit!" Ichigo fired back. Rukia's eyes grew heavy, her body still slumped on the softness of the couch. Her vision began to blur as her mind lost focus. Weariness was beginning to overtake her. "What kind of older sibling takes all the food? Besides, just cook me my curry next time!"

Their words seemed to be slurred then. Rukia was so sleepy that her surrounding noises seemed muffled to her ears and she could feel her small head sinking onto the soft material of the couch. She felt safe and protected in the warmth of Ichigo's family, and her full meal was not helping her alertness either. Her eyes closed.

Kuchiki Rukia had fallen asleep.

_Lalala~_

Karin and Yuzu stood near the door, full from their meal and ready to leave. They were staying in a hotel that Isshin had booked for them.

They now watched Ichigo as he tenderly gazed at Rukia's sleeping form. Her body lay curled on the couch, with one of Ichigo's coats draped over her as she slumbered. He stood up from where he was originally kneeling beside her by the couch, straightening out the coat over her body.

"Do you still love her?" Karin asked softly.

He finally turned and looked at her, a sad smile on his face. "Do I still love her? Karin, for ten long years she's been doing nothing but haunting my mind." He walked up to the twins and drew them into a deep hug. They pressed their heads against their brother's chest, relishing the warmth only an older brother could provide. He ruffled their hair. "One doesn't stop loving a person just because the person has been gone for a while."

"I don't think she's forgotten you as easily as you think," Karin continued, after Ichigo had released them. "She may not show signs of recognizing you, but that girl is a good actress. Don't forget you do look different."

Ichigo chuckled, but his sisters could make out the wistfulness in his amber eyes. He scratched at an orange spike from his head. "We'll see. Take care, you guys. Remember to wear something warm; the weather's turning cold. Also-"

"Oh, shut up_, Dad_," Karin interrupted in exasperation, whacking his back good-naturedly. "We're going now. _You_ take care. I expect Rukia to be my sister-in-law, so you know." She trod to the door with Yuzu, reaching her hand out for the knob.

"That's right, Onii-chan!" Yuzu exclaimed cheerily as the sisters stepped out of the apartment, pulling on their shoes. Ichigo watched them with a small smile on his lips. "I accept only Rukia-san! Because…" At this, Yuzu smiled an uncharacteristically sly smile, before turning away down the corridor with Karin.

"She's the only one you like."

_Lalala~_

Ichigo dried the last of the bowls before arranging them carefully back into the kitchen cupboard above the basin. He wiped his hands with a towel, shaking off his overlong orange locks hanging over his face, before he pushed the towel to the side.

The doctor finally stepped out of the kitchen, and stopped before Rukia, who was sleeping so deeply that he could hear her slow, deep breathing. Her mouth was slightly open, her face pressed against the material of the couch, legs curled below his coat. Dark hair brushed against her face. Moonlight streamed through the windows, illuminating her body. He could make out the long shadows beneath her eyelashes stretching out on her white skin.

She looked tiny and beautiful.

Ichigo smiled. He stooped beside her, his expression gentle. He could, of course, wake her up and send her home by a cab, but that was not an option he would even consider. She had ignored his advice and went to work, despite her stress and the fact that she had just recovered from a cold, and now he was not going to allow her body to miss out on anything it needed.

If he was going to be perfectly honest, that was not the only reason. Perhaps…

He wanted her by his side.

Of course, her expression when she woke up and realized she had fallen asleep in his home would be priceless too.

Ichigo carefully lifted her up into his arms, making sure not to wake her up. She automatically leaned into his touch, seeking his warmth. He grinned slightly before walking to his bedroom, holding her protectively to him. She was so incredibly light.

He pushed his door open with his foot, and then proceeded to lower her cautiously onto his bed, not bothering to switch on his light. The moonlight flowing from his windows were enough. He propped her head up gently with his palm, before placing it softly onto his pillow. She rolled against it, sniffing slightly before falling back into deeper slumber. Ichigo removed his coat from over her, only to replace it with his blanket. He pulled the long fabric over her body, making sure it wrapped her petite form snugly.

Ichigo watched her for a while. He was always a protective person by nature, especially around Rukia. With Rukia, his protective instincts were always on the alert, and right now they were roaring as he gazed at her sleeping face. She was so pale and thin, and surprisingly child-like as she slept.

He suppressed the ridiculous urge to just grab her and run far, far away from the Kuchiki Corps, the Kuchiki family, and everything else that demanded her responsibilities.

He wasn't a fool however. These responsibilities were what made up Rukia's life and also what he respected her for. She would never forgive him for taking them away from her, and he would never forgive himself.

Ichigo dropped a kiss on her forehead, deeply inhaling her sweet scent.

She was going to raise hell the next morning.

_Lalala~_

_She laughs._

_He always makes her laugh. With him, she's always more aware of the beauty of the world, and somehow, the ugliness of everything seems invisible. _

_It's just him and the beautiful, beautiful world._

"_You know," he says, his green eyes shining, "you could come with me."_

_She laughs again. "I won't leave my sister."_

"_Yes, you can," he replies recklessly. She has never seen anyone live life with so much abandon before, and she loves it. She loves him. "I have money. All the money to support you."_

_The green leaves flutter across her face, the same color as his_ _eyes. "What's so great about money?"_

"_I could buy you a garden," he says. "With violets everywhere. The color of your eyes."_

"_I don't need violets," she tells him, "I just want trees. Lots of trees."_

"_Trees?" he scoffs. "What's so great about them?"_

"_They have leaves," she says dreamily. And that's all she's willing to reveal. _

_He gets it though, and suddenly he looks uncomfortable, as if he's guilty of something. He brushes his eyes with his fingers, as if trying to hide them. _

_She giggles, and pries his hands away. _

_He is thirteen and she is twelve, and they are in love. Or whatever love children their age have for each other._

_He cradles her hands and abruptly laughs, tossing his head back. Dark spikes of hair wave in the air. She bashfully observes the slender column of his neck, admiring the sun-kissed skin. _

_Suddenly, he pins her down, and she squeals. His face hangs over her, and she stares at the green eyes, the black bangs framing his thin face, and the smile on his lips. _

"_I love you," he says, and she can hear the wild passion in his voice, and she believes him._

"_I love you, too," she whispers. _

"_Kaien."_

Rukia opened her eyes, and her eyelids seemed to serve as a filter. The face before her was different, but similar.

The black hair was now replaced by a vibrant orange. His green eyes were now a shade of amber, and his features seemed to have sharpened, become older, and more mature. But the same smile was there, the similar features, and he looked down at her softly.

"Ichigo?" she whispered drowsily, blinking.

"Hey there, sleepy head," he greeted her.

Bright rays of sunlight flooded the room, and she winced, vaguely wondering why Ichigo was in her bedroom. And why did her bed sheets seem to smell differently? Instead, a familiar masculine scent wafted into her nose. Unconsciously, she edged nearer towards her new favorite smell. It smelt… like Ichigo!

Reality immediately sank upon her, and her eyes widened. This… wasn't her room at all! Rukia flew up, sending the bed sheets flying, and her head immediately banged into the forehead of Ichigo Kurosaki (who had been leaning over her), causing him to yelp and clutch his head.

"What was that for, midget?" he shouted angrily, his voice edged with slight pain.

Rukia didn't answer. Couldn't answer. She was staring at him.

He was topless. _Topless. _Only a pair of Calvin Klein jeans hung low on his hips, and that itself was a distracting sight, watching the denim clutch tightly around his long, lean legs, not to mention the slight curve of his hips as it narrowed down to… a certain area. But if that was distracting, then his bare torso was mind-blowing.

She eyed the taut curve of his lean shoulders, and the sinuous, sleek muscles that crept along his well-built body. His body was long and lean, and sun-kissed skin was stretched out over his abs. He had obviously just taken a shower, as small rivulets of water trickled along his lithe form. The silky, orange strands of his hair curled innocently along his slender neck, the neck that was so similar to…

Rukia dropped her head into her hands. She had been fighting to act unaffected for so long, but this was going almost too far… Ichigo resembled Kaien far too much for her liking.

"Get dressed!" She screamed. "How dare you dress so indecently in front of a girl!"

He rolled his eyes. "Honestly. But fine."

Ichigo pulled on a white buttoned shirt which he had prepared for himself earlier, the fabric sliding smoothly over his tanned skin.

"Why am I here, anyway?" Rukia demanded hotly, still not lowering her voice and she pressed her palms tighter over her eyes. Her embarrassment at seeing Ichigo half-naked was starting to dissipate as she recalled her situation. "Why am I in your room?"

"Think back," Ichigo suggested, and Rukia could detect mischievous glee in his voice. He swiftly buttoned his shirt, fingers dancing over the plastic deftly.

Rukia's eyes widened from behind her fingers as memories of last night came flooding back into her previously sleep-dazed mind. She had been sitting on the couch … feeling extremely tired…

"Please don't tell me," she moaned, hands dropping from her face in horror to clutch at his blanket.

"That's right," Ichigo finished smugly, adding the finishing touches to his shirt. "You fell asleep."

Rukia jumped up from his bed, her dark hair disheveled and her breath coming out in gasps. Her blouse was heavily creased and her pencil skirt was messily bunched up to her thighs. "My brother! He's going to kill me! I didn't go home for the entire night!"

She ran out into his living room, groping his couch desperately. Ichigo followed her, his eyebrows raised. She grabbed onto her handbag, and unzipped it wildly, reaching for her Blackberry as if it was the last vestiges of her life. The Kuchiki fumbled with the mobile, dialing a number with shaky fingers.

"Hold on, Rukia!" Ichigo shouted. "What are you going to say to him?"

Rukia paused. Ichigo was right. In her desperation, she had forgotten how she was going to explain things to her brother. It was too late though. Seiko's familiar voice croaked into the phone. "Hello? The Kuchiki Residence here."

"This is... is Rukia." The lawyer answered, her voice shaking.

"Miss Rukia!" Seiko's voice was polite but shocked. "If I may ask, where have you been? I have been very concerned."

"Is Nii-sama…?" Rukia's voice trailed off, but the question was clear.

"Worry not, Miss Rukia," Seiko croaked in reply. "Mr Kuchiki left almost immediately after he came home last night. He only returned to the Mansion to pick up a few more personal belongings before heading back to the hospital to stay with Mrs Kuchiki. But where have you been, Miss Rukia, if I may ask?"

"I'm in Kurosaki Ichigo's apartment," Rukia responded quickly, relief seeping into her. Her pulse had finally stopped racing, and she could suddenly breathe again. "No, it's not what you think! I'll explain things to you later. Please cover for me while you can, Seiko. I would truly appreciate it."

She hung up, before turning to face Ichigo. Now that she was relatively safe from being exposed to her brother, she was aware of the sudden bashfulness welling up within her. Rukia was honestly mortified that she had surrendered to her own body needs, especially in front of Ichigo!

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, her cheeks red. She refused to look into his amber eyes. "I didn't mean to fall asleep here at your place. But honestly, you should have woken me up!"

"Nah, seeing your face now is priceless," Ichigo chuckled, sounding very amused indeed. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, seemingly a habit for him. "Anyway, go take a bath or something. Don't you have work today?"

Rukia gasped, nearly dropping her handbag. "That's right! But first, I need to go to the hospital to see Hisana."

Ichigo shrugged. "I'm going there anyway, to work on the syringes with Urahara-san. We'll go together."

Rukia nodded. "Hold on. Ichigo, if I slept in your bed, then where did you sleep?"

Ichigo immediately looked uncomfortable, and he shrugged again, scratching at his orange hair. "On the couch."

"I see," Rukia answered, too caught up in the current situation to notice anything amiss. "Sorry for intruding."

He couldn't tell her that he had spent the night cuddled next to her on his bed and just mostly watched her sleep, could he?

Somewhere outside the apartment, two men took out their phones.

_Lalala~_

Rukia and Ichigo stepped out of the cab, and he slammed the door shut behind him. The car shot off. They stood before the towering building that was the Seretei Hospital, before striding towards the glass doors. The sun shone down brightly on the two figures.

Showering in Ichigo's bathroom had been embarrassing. She couldn't help but secretly rummage through his storage of soap and shampoo, wondering what kinds he used. It was purely curiosity, she told herself, just human nature. She also couldn't help but sniff herself, detecting slight but existent traces of his masculine scent along her skin, probably from lying on his bed. He had only stayed in that apartment for one night, and his scent had already marked itself on his bed, and now on her.

She had never been more reluctant to take a bath.

Rukia made a mental note to go back to her home and change later, as she was still wearing her clothes from yesterday. All of Ichigo's clothes were far too big for her, at least twice her size. She needed to pick up her briefcase and paperwork too.

He had insisted on cooking breakfast, stating that it was the most important meal of the day, and in her opinion, had wasted time. She needed to go to the office soon.

They entered the hospital, and the familiar smell of antiseptic drifted. Cool air blasted as the doors closed behind them. Ichigo pulled out a small plastic ziplock bag from the pocket of his doctor's coat, and Rukia could make out the syringes lying snugly inside. The needles glinted, and she suppressed a shudder.

He grinned. "What's wrong, Miss Kuchiki?"

She snorted, turning away. "Shut up."

A nurse suddenly walked up, and she bowed before Ichigo, white cap bobbing. "You must be Dr Urahara's assistant, Dr Kurosaki. We have news."

Ichigo nodded. "Do you happen to know where he is? I have some things to show him."

The nurse opened her mouth, but a voice cut her off.

"Aah, Dr _Kurosaki,_" the voice purred. A tall, thin man appeared, his silver locks glinting as he strolled leisurely towards Ichigo. A wide smile seemed to be imprinted on his face. Beside him stood a familiar woman, grinning cheerily.

"Matsumoto!" Rukia gasped.

"Hello there," Gin Ichimaru drawled serenely, his smile deepening cheerfully. "I'm the new intern here. You see, Urahara-san isn't here anymore. So whatever you wanted to show him…" The man raised a slender arm, his long fingers outstretched.

"Why not let me help?"

**I love Gin**. **Anyway, not too pleased with this chapter, but since my birthday's coming, send me a review as my present! XD**


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you for all your birthday wishes and reviews! I think reviews are the best presents I can ever receive. By the way, this story might be becoming M-rated soon due to certain scenes in the future. I'm still considering, tell me what you guys think. Anyway, onwards!  
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. **

Ichigo was a man who had always trusted his instincts. If someone had lost his belongings, his weapons, and his senses, he still had his instincts to guide him forward.

And right now his instincts were tingling warningly.

The man before him was bad news. He had no evidence. But somehow… he felt.

"What do you mean that Urahara-san is gone?" Rukia took a step forward, her voice rising challengingly. It was clear that she didn't trust the silver-haired man either. The long, mocking smile that stretched his thin lips, not to mention the narrowed eyes, gave off an intimidating and jeering aura that threatened to envelope everyone around. Everything about him sent a prickling sensation of discomfort down Rukia's spine. His outstretched arm with the long, long spidery fingers was ignored. The nurse was trembling faintly, her eyes lowered.

He looked like a man who enjoyed playing with his toys, and his toys were no other than people.

"Rukia!" Matsumoto Rangiku grumbled. She stood next to Gin, shaking her thick, luscious honey-blonde waves of hair. The gorgeous woman leaned forwards, and her huge breasts threatened to bob out of her tight suit. "Don't be so mean to him! He is my boyfriend, you know?"

Rukia's jaw dropped, her violet eyes huge and her thick eyelashes quivering. "_This _is your new boyfriend?"

Gin's smile remained, and it seemed to widen maliciously. Ichigo's eyes narrowed.

"Of course!" Matsumoto announced animatedly. She clasped her hands together, and her blue eyes immediately roamed over to Ichigo, studying his lean, sinuous frame appreciatively. He flinched, suspecting that she was just like one of the many women he knew who made sure their duties in life were to ogle him.

"And so this is the hot doctor you were talking about, Rukia?" Matsumoto demanded wildly, looking as if she was going to pee her pants, she was so excited. "He is hot! I knew it! Are you two dating yet?"

"_Matsumoto! _Don't talk nonsense!" Rukia blurted, her face glowing crimson with horror and mortification. Her eyes darted furtively to Ichigo, whose amber eyes were wide with what she suspected to be a mixture of amusement and alarm. He met her glance, a smirk on his face. She instantly looked away.

Matsumoto giggled persistently. "So are you guys dating or not?"

The embarrassed lawyer stomped her heels loudly, enough of the crap that had been going on. She ignored Matsumoto and instead directed her stare at the ever smiling Gin. "I believed I asked a question. Where is Urahara-san?"

"Ah, I ain't sure, that," Ichimaru Gin replied smilingly, dropping his outstretched hand. He leaned over forward to the petite form of Rukia slowly, intently, and Ichigo instantly took a step nearer to her protectively. "Why don't you ask the good doctor himself, if you can find him, that is?" Rukia inhaled deeply, attempting to pull an unfazed front.

Ichigo didn't like this man. He was certain of it now. He also suspected that the man knew a lot more than he was letting on, but he was going to play around with them just for the fun out of it. Just for _his _fun.

Where the hell was Urahara-san?

The orange-haired doctor tucked the bag of syringes back into his coat pocket, making sure it lay safely inside. "Thanks, but no thanks for your help, Doctor…?"

"Ichimaru," the silver-haired man answered silkily. "Gin Ichimaru." He lightly tugged at the doctor's coat that he, too, was wearing, observing it with a sort of a detached air. "And are you sure you wouldn't want my assistance in examining those… syringes?"

"I'll help," a familiar, cool voice chimed in indifferently. Everyone looked in the direction of the new voice, and Ichigo grinned as he caught sight of Ishida, striding towards them along the white corridors and adjusting his glasses. His dark hair was arranged as neatly as always, and he was dressed spotlessly and professionally.

"Hey, Ishida! What are you doing here?" He asked, waving at his friend. Ishida ignored him, choosing to bow politely at the others, who bowed back, including Gin, who was still smiling.

"Kuchiki Rukia," Rukia introduced herself graciously, offering her hand. He shook it amiably, a polite smile on his lips. "It's such an honor," she added, "Nii-sama respects Ishida Ryuken-san a lot."

Ichigo scowled. He had a feeling that Kuchiki Byakuya wouldn't be too full of respect at _his_ father.

"Ah, thank you," Ishida answered, shifting his glasses carefully once more. "In fact, it is because of Ryuken that I'm here. He called from the Karakura Hospital, informing me to stay in the Seretei Hospital to help out now that Urahara-san is no longer around here."

"What the hell happened to Urahara-san, Ishida?" Ichigo demanded. "I'm really in the dark here."

Ishida looked grim, his features twisted solemnly. "You don't know? Yoruichi-san was assassinated yesterday, back in London. She was shot. Urahara-san immediately went overseas to see her. Just wait, it should be all over the news by now. Check today's newspaper."

A shocked murmur rippled through the small group, although Gin remained unaffected, his Cheshire smile still blissfully intact.

"Yoruichi-san was _shot?_" Ichigo repeated in disbelief. Ishida nodded somberly. Ichigo's amber eyes were wide in horror, and beside him, Rukia looked just as flabbergasted. Matsumoto's initial excitement had immediately died down.

This was Yoruichi. The renowned martial arts master who was known to be the quickest and swiftest woman in Japan. She was also the same person who had taught him martial arts along with his father. Ichigo heard that she had taught Kuchiki Byakuya martial arts too.

The martial arts expert had been shot? Ichigo wasn't even aware that there was a bullet in the world fast enough to catch up with her.

"Is she okay?" He asked urgently.

Ishida sighed, brushing a long, dark bang with a slim hand. He looked tired and weary. "I don't know, Kurosaki. I heard that the bullet had just missed her vital organs, but she's not out of the woods yet. We can't determine why unless we get to examine her properly and Urahara-san's not telling us anything."

"But this is Shihoin Yoruichi," Rukia spoke, her voice tight. She exchanged grim glances with Matsumoto. "She's incredible. She's the Flash Goddess. How could she have been shot? The sniper who shot her, has he been apprehended yet?"

Ishida shook his head. "We don't know who he is. Nobody has caught him yet, but the police are still investigating. But let me tell you this. Someone who has the ability to shoot down the Flash Goddess…"

"He isn't going to be easy to catch, is he?" Ichigo finished heavily.

There was a long, pregnant silence.

Then Matsumoto piped up, breaking the dark tension. "Oh, cheer up, you guys! Urahara-san will have her treated in no time! He's a genius himself, that man." She beamed, although her pretty blue eyes looked faintly saddened. Everyone nodded, exchanging glances. Ichigo made a mental note to call up Urahara soon.

Yoruichi was always annoying him, but she was his friend and mentor.

Gin continued smiling, as if savoring something only he knew.

The nurse then bowed meekly, her hands clasped over her white uniform. She finally spoke at last, her voice trembling faintly. "As Dr Gin Ichimaru has said, he is our new intern here. He happens to also be the new doctor supervising Hisana Kuchiki's case."

Another bomb had dropped on the group.

"_What?_" Rukia exclaimed, her pale, oval face darkening. Her eyes narrowed. "No offense, but he's only an intern! How can an _intern_ be in charge of my sister?"

"No offense taken," Gin replied brightly. He certainly did not seem to mind the group's reaction. If anything, he looked as if Christmas had come early.

The nurse shook her head. "I do not know. Urahara-san was the one who instructed it to be so. He himself handed the case over to Dr Ichimaru."

Ichigo took a step forward, his lips twisting mildly and his golden eyes flashing. "What is that Mr hat-and-clogs thinking?! Leaving such an important issue to an intern?" His long coat whipped behind his long, wiry frame as he swung his hand.

"I believe in Gin," Matsumoto countered confidently. Rukia's anger immediately faltered, and she thought Gin looked slightly surprised; his smile dropped a little.

It must have been her imagination.

Ishida turned away abruptly. "In any case, I will be in Urahara's room, Kurosaki. I'll wait for you there, I'm sure you know where it is."

The slender man strode away quietly along the long stretch of corridors, his own coat billowing lightly behind him. Ichigo hadn't missed the look Ishida had given him before leaving.

There was something going on.

Gin waved a slender hand carelessly, the same crafty smirk seemingly sculpted onto his face. "Well, I have to go too, so see you, _Dr Kurosaki, Miss Kuchiki."_ He drawled. The man turned gracefully, Matsumoto trailing after him happily. The busty woman waved at Rukia, honey locks spilling and curvy hips bobbing. "I'll see you at the office later! Oh, there's no need to tell Hitsugaya where I am either, by the way!"

Rukia rolled her eyes.

Gin looked back one last time, his jeering gaze directed at Ichigo. He tilted his head to one side, the silver bangs brushing his narrowed eyes. "Don't forget to show me anything… _interesting _you find about the sick lady, will ya?"

_Lalala~_

"I need to find out if Nii-sama knows about this," Rukia seethed, heels jabbing the floor as if she held a personal grudge against it. Her neatly tied bun bobbed, and her handbag swung almost violently against the angry movement of her petite body.

Ichigo followed behind, hands in pockets as he observed her. "Don't worry, Rukia. Ishida and I will manage this just fine, even with that intern. I'm sure he isn't all that bad as you think."

Inwardly, Ichigo was more than disturbed about Gin Ichimaru. The guy just seemed to be _wrong _somehow.

"I don't care," Rukia snapped viciously. "I appreciate it, Ichigo, but that man… he gave me the creeps. Why is Matsumoto dating him? I can't believe he's in charge of my sister. I need to see Hisana now."

The pair came to a stop just outside Hisana's room, the white door facing them innocently. Ichigo could just lightly make out dark silhouettes from the tiny window of the door. Naturally, Hisana's room was the best and biggest one in the hospital, with more facilities anyone would need.

"I think I should stay behind," Ichigo volunteered. He glanced at the dark-haired woman, scratching his head awkwardly. "I don't think your brother would want to see me."

Rukia nodded, suddenly feeling a certain awkwardness as well. She shifted her legs slowly, feeling the fabric of her stockings rub against each other. "Ichigo. I just wanted to…" She bit her lip tightly as he raised his eyebrows at her curiously. Why was it so hard to get the words out? She was Rukia Kuchiki, for goodness' sake! There was nothing in the world that she couldn't say confidently and with ease.

"Thanks," she forced out, feeling her cheeks redden. Her fingers pressed onto the smooth leather of her handbag with so much force that she believed there would be indents later. "For bothering to go through all the trouble to try to treat my sister. I believe I haven't thanked you yet… Well, now you can't say I didn't!" Her voice rose defensively, although he hadn't said a single thing.

He was staring at her in surprise, his mouth slightly open. His golden eyes seemed to be radiating shock and... perhaps, happiness.

Ichigo finally broke into a grin, flashing perfect rows of white teeth. "I'm a doctor, aren't I? If I just stood by and watched someone suffer from an illness before me, then what would that make me?"

Rukia felt a sudden pang of guilt as she remembered accusing Ichigo of being an incompetent doctor during their first meeting.

_Kaien… with his tears… and wailing for his mother…_

Impulsively, she moved towards him, reaching her small hand out. Ichigo stared at her, eyes widening, and now it was his turn to blush. "What are you-?"

She pressed onto the silver chain around that beautiful, slender neck that was so like Kaien's. The metal was smooth and hard beneath her fingers, and she could feel his warmth drifting around her.

"This necklace must mean a lot to you, huh?" She murmured.

Ichigo glanced down, his gaze suddenly sober. "Yes," he replied quietly.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking up at him and gazing softly into his amber irises. "For what I said, back at your clinic."

Ichigo's lips instantly curved into a smile, and the lights from the ceiling seemed to catch his eyes, making them glow a beautiful orange gold. Her breath caught. She was falling… falling... "To be honest, Rukia, I wanted to tell you-"

A sudden creak sounded as the door was pushed open, and a pair of heels strode out, clicking on the smooth granite.

Ichigo and Rukia immediately jumped, before shifting apart at once, the moment broken.

Senna stood before them, staring at the pair. The door closed behind her.

"Ichigo?" she exclaimed.

"Senna!?" Ichigo murmured in disbelief. His eyes lit up.

Rukia's violet eyes darted from one person to the other, her features filled with shock. "You guys know each other?"

It was as if she hadn't spoken. Senna started giggling, staring adoringly at Ichigo. "I'd never thought I'd see you again! You did miss me, did you?"

"Of course I did," Ichigo answered warmly. He smiled at her, and Rukia's stomach churned when she saw the elation in his smile. "What are you doing here though? We never saw you again after you left-"

"I work for the Kuchikis now," Senna cut him off hastily. She tugged at her purple locks almost flirtatiously, winking at him. Rukia wanted to throw up. "I'm Hisana's personal servant, and I'm here to take care of her."

"You mean Mrs Kuchiki," Rukia interrupted sharply. Senna sounded almost …rude. She was never rude. She had always been docile and obedient during the few times Rukia saw her in the Manor. Yet, here she was, making eyes at Ichigo. Rukia noticed that she seemed to keep thrusting her chest forward at the doctor, as if trying to bring attention to her breasts. Rukia could just make out the small line of cleavage from below her unbuttoned collar.

Rukia felt a sudden surge of hatred at her own small breasts.

Ichigo didn't seem to notice Senna's actions, however. He continued smiling at the purple-haired girl. "I hope I can see you around soon."

"How do you guys know each other?" Rukia finally demanded, determined not to become the third wheel. She stared at Ichigo, who finally looked back at her, blinking.

It was if the shutters had suddenly closed behind his eyes. He shifted away, looking awkward, and avoided her eyes. "It's not important. Anyway, I need to go. Ishida's waiting for me."

Rukia drew in a breath abruptly, not noticing the malicious smile on Senna's face. It was like before, when he had denied her information about why he didn't live together with his family. She had accepted it, decided to respect his wishes.

But this was worse. It was about… _a girl._

Rukia refused to acknowledge the significance behind her sentiment. She wanted to know the truth from him, _now._

"Why can't you tell me?" Rukia insisted. She grabbed his shoulder, her arm raised. His muscles seemed to stiffen from beneath her grip. "First your family, now this? What's going on with you, Ichigo?" He remained silent, his eyes burning with emotions. "Why can't you tell me, Ichigo?"

He suddenly wheeled around and shoved her hand off. She flinched when she saw the annoyance on his face. "Why can't _you_ ever keep your nose out of my business?" Ichigo snapped. "Jeez, for a small body, you sure have a big nose, midget."

Rukia froze. For a few seconds, no one spoke. Senna watched, almost breathless, her golden eyes gleaming with barely concealed sadistic joy. She turned her head away to hide her smirk.

"Rukia-" Ichigo finally spoke, reaching out to her, but she backed away swiftly, her handbag swinging along her small shoulder. Guilt weighed heavily on his heart. How could he have said that?

"I was right," Rukia said tonelessly. She stared at Hisana's door. "People are all the same. They're nice to you, but in the end, they can be just as unkind."

"Rukia, that wasn't what I meant-" Ichigo stepped towards her desperately, his shoes clicking on the ground as his white coat flapped behind him. His orange bangs brushed over his wide amber eyes.

"Enough," Rukia replied coldly. It was the same cold and emotionless voice she used with her colleagues and subordinates. Her _usual_ voice. How long had she discarded it since she met him? "Here."

She threw him a few wads of cash, but it simply fell to the floor in a heap of notes as he made no move to catch it.

"This should be enough payment for what you've done for Hisana so far," Rukia remarked dispassionately. "You may abandon everything else you've done. I don't need you anymore."

She pushed open Hisana's door, and hastily stepped in, ignoring him as he ran after her and shouted her name. Senna remained outside.

_Kaien had once told her he loved her. But does someone who love you leave you without a word; leave you standing alone, waiting for him in the rainstorm?_

She had hoped that Ichigo would be different, maybe not as a lover, but at least as a friend.

_Lalala~_

Gin Ichimaru strode down the corridors, humming serenely under his breath. He was very happy, indeed.

Seeing the faces of the others when they heard the news about the Flash Goddess and his internship had been like a delicious, tasty snack.

His smile widened.

Behind him, Matsumoto bounced cheerfully, her hair flying. He glanced at her, his smile almost dropping again.

She was such an enigma. He had done everything he could to intimidate her upon their first meeting, to show her that he was _not_ the typical boyfriend, and unlike everybody, she had been completely unaffected.

He didn't know whether to be frustrated or amused.

"You don't have to stay, you know," Gin finally spoke, the usual drawl apparent in his voice. "I'm sure you have to go the office soon."

"I know," Matsumoto beamed. She fished out something from her pink purse, her red nails gleaming. He peered at the object with a sort of detached air, observing the small paper bag she held in her hand. "Dried persimmons," she announced with relish. "They're my personal favorite."

Gin's silver eyebrows rose with genuine surprise. "_Yare yare_, what a coincidence." She shared the same favorite food as him?

"Here." She pushed the bag into his long, slender hands. It crinkled slightly as he slowly looked down at her gift. "Being an intern isn't easy, you know. It's quite tiring. Have these persimmons, and eat them whenever you feel peckish."

"I don't remember asking you for this," Gin pointed out wryly.

"I don't need your permission to show you I care, you know," Matsumoto replied, smiling. She folded her arms over her gigantic bosom. "I'll see you later! Make sure you eat them."

He watched her go, his face devoid of its usual smile.

_Lalala~_

Ichigo punched the wall, his fist slamming against concrete with devastating impact. A few cracks unfurled on the poor white paint, and a shelf nearby shook. Several flasks wobbled dangerously on the shelf.

"Before you attack the wall again, Kurosaki," Ishida commented dryly, peering into the lens of the microscope, "Let me tell you that I refuse to be held liable for broken walls."

The pair was in Urahara's hospital room, supposedly examining the content of the syringes. Suffice to say, Ichigo had been in a savage mood the whole time throughout the examination, and had finally lost his temper and lashed out at the pitiful wall near him.

"Why did I say that?" Ichigo snarled, his head lowered against the wall, fist still pressed against it. "_How could I have said that to her?"_

Ishida finally looked up from the microscope, a finger lifting his glasses as usual. "It isn't really your fault. You know you would be revealing the truth about your family if you told her how you knew Senna. Still, why didn't you simply fabricate a story, Kurosaki? It could have saved you so much trouble."

Ichigo glowered at Ishida, finally moving away from the wall, his legs striding towards the table with long, graceful paces. "You know I hate lying, Ishida. Especially... especially to her." The doctor sank onto the chair heavily, his eyelids slightly lowered in defeat. "In fact, Ishida, I'm considering just telling her the truth. Everything about me, that I'm Kurosaki Isshin's son."

Ishida's eyes widened and he stared incredulously at Ichigo. "You have to be joking, Kurosaki. You know the consequences. She'll hate you. You'll never go near her sister at this rate. And have you forgotten about all the publicity?"

"I don't want to lie to her anymore," Ichigo said flatly.

Ishida tapped his gloved fingers on the metal table, his gaze sharp and serious. "This isn't the time to lose your head, Kurosaki," he stated grimly. "I understand your pain, and I think I understand Kuchiki-san's, but right now there's something going on and I don't like it."

Ichigo glanced at Ishida, his lips pressed tightly. "I knew you felt something was wrong too. Has Urahara-san picked up any of your calls? He's been completely ignoring mine."

Ishida shook his head quietly. "He hasn't picked up mine either. Now I know Urahara-san isn't the most open man in the world, but it's not like him to completely ignore us. Especially how he knows that Yoruichi-san's our friend, and that we're worrying for her." His dark eyes met Ichigo's amber ones, their gazes somber.

Ichigo frowned. "A bullet that didn't hit her vital organs… Yet it seems her condition is so serious." He picked up a piece of newspaper lying on a nearby chair, scowling at the bold headlines: **Flash Goddess Yoruichi Shihoin Loses Race Against Bullet; In Critical Condition. Who Is Our Mysterious Sniper?**

"There's something that more than meets the eye here," Ichigo concluded, slamming the paper back onto the chair angrily. He didn't bother reading the article; he had read it with Ishida so many times a few hours ago that he could memorize almost every word. "I don't believe that someone like Yoruichi-san could suffer so seriously from a bullet. She's tough stuff, not to mention it didn't hit her vital organs. There would be internal bleeding, some scars, but she won't die from it."

"And the new intern," Ishida added gravely, watching Ichigo as the orange-haired doctor walked over and slowly pulled out a piece of paper rolling out of the printing machine. Beeping noises filled the room. "He doesn't exactly seem …decent. Call it intuition if you would like, but his presence... irks me. It also strikes me as odd that Urahara-san would entrust Hisana Kuchiki's case to an _intern._ And I really don't believe that Urahara-san would trust him either, at least not any more than we do."

Ichigo dropped the printed paper onto the table in front of Ishida, and it fluttered beside the microscope. The orange-haired man's face was grim and Ishida could make out a hint of melancholy in Ichigo's narrow golden eyes. There was nothing happy or gentle in his expression anymore; his attractive features were twisted sharply and his mouth was pursed in a hard line.

"There wasn't a lot," Ichigo said calmly, watching Ishida as the bespectacled doctor lowered his gaze onto the medical report before him. "But it was enough. The remaining traces of substance in the syringes… What do you think that was?"

Ichigo picked up his tweezers and carefully adjusted-with professional expertise- the object of experiment, which was a tiny stained sheet of glass, on the stage of the microscope.

"I'm freaked out, Ishida," he announced grimly, shaking his head to send the silky orange locks of hair out of his eyes. "In all my field of medical knowledge, this is…"

"Completely unknown," Ishida finished morosely, dropping his hands lifelessly onto the piece of paper. "You are not the only one perturbed, Kurosaki." The black-haired man narrowed his eyes. "Please don't forget that this substance was the very thing injected into Hisana Kuchiki. And what did Kuchiki-san say about the person who carried out Hisana Kuchiki's injections? Oh yes, it was her personal maid."

Ichigo's eyes widened. "You're not saying- Senna?!"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Kurosaki," Ishida replied calmly. "I agree that some of the traces of the usual vaccines were left in the injections as it should, but this second substance-"

"Shouldn't be there," Ichigo deadpanned. He leaned against the wall, his long, gloriously sinuous form propped against the concrete, and his orange locks pooled around his head. His doctor's coat hung from his body. "But there are no traces of any poison in it. No potassium cyanide, no arsenic, nothing. I don't like to suspect my friends, Ishida."

"Neither do I," Ishida said dispassionately, "But the facts are overwhelming right now, Kurosaki. Besides, I believe Senna sees you as more than a friend, am I wrong?"

Ichigo tensed. "That was a long time ago. I already made things clear to her, back then, that I love Rukia. She understood. My mother helped me tell her too." Almost unconsciously, his hand lifted and gently touched his chain necklace.

"You should stop viewing all your friends through rose-tinted glasses, Kurosaki," Ishida snapped. "Just because you rejected her doesn't mean she understood. All of us saw how crazy over you she was back then."

Ichigo rose from the wall, sighing. He pulled off his white, plastic gloves, and tossed them into the bin nearby. "I'll ask her what's going on, and I'm _not _going to accuse her of anything," he finally answered, his amber eyes intense. "But let me go buy some lunch first."

Ishida's eyebrows rose. "Not a problem, I suppose. But the lunch isn't for you, is it?"

"Knowing Rukia, she's probably going to skip her meals," Ichigo responded crisply, striding over to the basin nearby. Ishida knew that Ichigo was forcing himself to sound casual. "I'm going to buy her lunch and give it to her at her office whether she likes it or not."

"I see," Ishida sighed. "You just can't get over her, it seems. Still, if you did, then you wouldn't be Kurosaki Ichigo." He directed his steely gaze at Ichigo, who was rinsing his tanned hands below the tap. "You haven't forgotten it, have you? Hisana Kuchiki's link to your mother?"

"Of course not," Ichigo replied, meeting Ishida's look meaningfully. "Something tells me this is all linked together; my mother, Hisana Kuchiki's case, Yoruichi-san's assassination, the new intern and now this mysterious content in the injections. Something bad, very bad, is happening, and it's not going to stop. Not yet."

"I agree," Ishida nodded. He shook his head wearily. "But there's nothing we can do right now, except to do what we should."

Ichigo shrugged off his doctor's coat, and draped it over his arm. "Sorry for leaving, Ishida, but I'll be back soon. Someone's got to take care of Rukia, because she obviously doesn't. I'll ask Senna about the injections too. And when I came back…" His gaze met Ishida's, and they understood.

"We'll find out just what that mysterious substance does to the human body."

_Lalala_~

Rukia Kuchiki felt sad.

She herself was startled at this choice of description. The words _sadness_ and _Rukia Kuchiki _did not go together often. Words like _diligent, confident, _and_ authoritative_ fit the bill more. Sadness was a vulnerability she had denied herself for ten years.

Until now, that was.

Right then she was busy typing away on her laptop in her office, body sitting snugly on her office chair, legs crossed and Chappy mug near her on the large oak table. Shelves surrounded her, with endless number of files and books neatly placed inside, not to mention the certificates of her various awards and accolades.

She was back in her prime.

Only she didn't feel like it. There was a painful knot in her stomach even as she busied herself with her files, fingers flying over the keyboard.

She had rushed into her sister's hospital room in a hurt frenzy, and had felt the doors swish behind her as they closed, effectively muting Ichigo's voice desperately calling her name.

The lawyer had stood there, slightly breathless, and fervently prayed that Ichigo wouldn't follow her into the room. He didn't.

The beeping noises in the suddenly tranquil room soon brought her attention back to her surroundings, and she flinched when she saw her brother sitting calmly on a chair, cradling Hisana's tiny hand in his own large one from where she lay motionless on a vast bed next to his neatly poised form seated beside. A nurse bustled about, pouring water into a glass cup from the kettle.

''You made quite an entrance, Rukia,'' Byakuya Kuchiki observed dryly, not looking up from his wife. The machine continued beeping. ''Surely you have a reason for disturbing your sister?''

Rukia flushed, feeling shame begin to creep up within her. She had allowed her emotions to get the better of her about Ichigo, and had stormed off into her sister's hospital room -where she rested- momentarily forgetting about Hisana.

Her sister's hospital room had been more of a refuge to her at that moment, rather than a place where her sister lay, ill and possibly dying.

Only Ichigo could bring about such unacceptable behaviour from her. Him, and someone else.

Rukia dipped her head respectfully, her huge violet eyes lowered. ''I'm sorry, Nii-sama,'' she said meekly. ''It will not happen again.''

''It had better not,'' Byakuya replied, finally looking up at her with cool, grey eyes. She fought not to squirm under his cold gaze, to maintain her Kuchiki tall man was elegantly dressed in his usual suit, covered with a trenchcoat. ''Who was that man calling you just now? Was that not Kurosaki Ichigo's voice, the doctor from the other day?''

Rukia was impressed that her brother had remembered Ichigo's name. Still, it was not like his surname was hard to forget, and Byakuya wasn't chairman of the Kuchiki Corps for nothing.

''Yes...'' She replied hesitantly, knowing it was pointless to lie. She wrestled the urge to bite her lip. Her brother would naturally disapprove. ''He has come to me before to request examining Hisana.''

It wasn't a lie, really. But she was definitely keeping the whole going-to-his-house-and-staying-the-night fiasco from Byakuya.

Byakuya narrowed his eyes. ''Why is that man so interested in Hisana?''

Rukia swallowed. ''He just wants to help, Nii-sama.'' Inwardly, she berated herself for defending Ichigo even after how he had been so rude to her, and how he had kept things from her despite everything she had confided in him.

''But I told him no,'' she added quickly, looking at her brother with some effort as his eyes narrowed further. ''He won't be bothering us again, I promise, Nii-sama.''

Byakuya turned to a small stack of papers on his lap. No doubt, they were forms from his work; contracts to sign. There was no one more efficient a worker than Byakuya, not even Rukia.

Still, she noticed that his hand never left Hisana's.

The nurse bowed, and offered Rukia a chair and a cup of water. She accepted both gratefully, and gazed down tenderly at her unconscious sister, trying to distract herself from the tension in the room.

''How long have you and the Kurosaki boy been in contact?'' Byakuya inquired briskly, the long fingers of his free hand signing his signature with elegant writing on the papers.

Rukia swallowed, her hands clasped primly over her handbag. ''Only today. I saw him today.''

Little did she know how soon her words would backfire.

Rukia reached out and gently touched her sister's other hand, where a UV drip was attached to. The patient's skin was so very cold and soft. Rukia's fingers closed over Hisana's thin ones, wanting to squeeze them, to tell her sister that she was there.

But she remained unmoving beneath the thick white sheets.

''Nii-sama,'' Rukia said slowly, but firmly, ''Do you know about the new intern supervising Hisana?''

Byakuya's eyebrows went up, but he did not stop signing his papers. ''I am not as ignorant as you may presume, Rukia.''

''I ... would never dare presume such things, Nii-sama!'' Rukia blurted, her hand tightening on her sister's limp one. Of course her brother would have known; in fact, he would have been the first to be informed. ''It's just that... you are fine with it, Nii-sama? An intern?''

''It hardly makes a difference,'' Byakuya said icily. He put down his ballpoint pen, directing his steely eyes at Rukia, who flushed slightly. ''I never planned to rely on that incompetent man that is Urahara Kisuke. Other veteran doctors from many countries and places will be attending to Hisana. The intern will merely be making sure that Hisana receives proper treatment in the hospital.''

By proper, Rukia knew, her brother meant the best treatment.

Afterwards she had rushed home for a shower and a change of clothes, with the ever remaining painful churning in her stomach at knowing the lack of improvement in Hisana's condition and also that Ichigo might possibly be in a relationship with Senna. Or had been, at the very least. Why else would he be so secretive?

She knew she was being childish- to be more worried about mundane things like relationships when more important things demanded her attention... but she couldn't help it.

It was time, she realised, to acknowledge the growing feelings she had for Ichigo.

Acknowledge it, and quickly find a way to dispose of it.

She was appalled at herself. Rukia hadn't fallen for a guy this fast in... a long time. She had been denying her feelings to herself for the past few days since she met Ichigo, but now the significance behind her sudden rage at his hiding things from her about Senna was too obvious even to the self-denial she had clung on.

She liked Ichigo.

Oh, but she wasn't going to take this lying down. Her body was playing traitor right now- at least, her heart was, and she was going to teach it how to be obedient.

If Rukia Kuchiki didn't have self-control, then she simply wasn't Rukia Kuchiki.

There was a reason why she hadn't simply asked Senna about her relationship with Ichigo. She didn't want to know.

Well, of course she did, but knowing it would only make Rukia more jealous -and let's face it, this was jealousy, this horrible feeling in the pits of her stomach like when she had heard about Inoue yesterday night. The last thing she needed right now was another catalyst on her feelings for Ichigo.

When one is a Kuchiki, inferiority is the last thing on your mind. But Rukia had never felt more inferior right now, after such a long time.

Everything about Senna, a _servant_, looked beautiful. Her huge golden eyes with the thick eyelashes. The silky purple hair, the curvy figure. Her breasts.

Rukia had always felt insecure about her breasts. She was the sad owner of a pair of A-cups, and even her older sister, despite their resemblance, had far bigger breasts than her.

Had Ichigo often gazed adoringly at Senna, admiring her appearance, back in those days when he was in whatever relationship with her?

Judging from the elation in his expression when he had seen her earlier, she bet he did.

Bile seemed to form in her throat. Rukia grabbed her Chappy mug, her lips fastened on the cold porcelain as she swallowed mouthfuls of cold coffee, trying to drown out the horrid taste at the back of her mouth.

God, she had to stop this.

The lawyer's head jerked up from her laptop when a knock rapped politely at her office door.

She cleared her throat, making sure her voice was devoid of any shaking or trembling. ''Come in.'' Even if her heart betrayed her, her acting skills did not.

The office door swished open, the tinted windows swinging, and a certain crimson-haired man strode in, grinning at her. His suit was slightly crumpled, as usual, and his loafers pressed onto the carpeted floor. The door swung shut behind him.

''Renji,'' Rukia gasped, eyes widening as she lowered her mug back onto the table. She hadn't seen him for quite some time, she realised.

Her heart leapt when she realised how much she had missed her friend.

''Are you okay?'' He demanded, his grin fading as he took in her pale face. ''Is it about your sister? Is she okay? The news hasn't said anything-''

''I'm fine,'' Rukia replied, forcing herself to sound casual. She smiled a watery smile at him as he reached forward in front of her table and touched her cheek from across with long, thin fingers. Her own hands had ceased typing on her keyboard at his touch. It was so warm. ''Hisana's fine too. For now.''

''Bet you haven't had lunch,'' Renji declared, eyeing her with concern, his heavily tattooed features creasing slightly.

Rukia laughed. ''It's lunch hour already?''

Renji rolled his eyes. ''Typical. You didn't even realise.''

She smiled wanly, tapping the floor with her heel. ''Sorry, Renji, but I'm busy as it is-''

''You, young lady, had better get away from this table before I drag you,'' Renji cut in firmly, his muscled arm reaching around and pulling her arm.

She squealed, her mouse drooping from her hand with a noisy clang onto the table. ''What are you doing?!''

''What does it look like?'' Renji answered dryly, walking over to her side at behind the table, not letting go of her arm. The tall man leaned down and whispered huskily in her ear. ''You free tonight?''

Rukia wouldn't say she was proud of it. Oh yes, Renji and her were friends. Maybe even best friends. They definitely did not stray to the lovers' category, as she had made it clear to him.

They were also friends with benefits.

Rukia was a woman, and she was perfectly sure that as a grown adult it was more than normal to have needs. She hadn't liked this arrangement, but it satisfied her.

Right now, she needed a distraction more than ever.

The lawyer allowed Renji to wrap his arms around her, sighing to herself as she sank into his embrace, head against his hard chest.

''I'm free,'' she whispered.

Tonight, she was going to forget about everything. Hisana. Byakuya. Senna.

Ichigo.

He leaned down and they kissed, lips pressed tightly, their tongues entwining along each other, warmth against warmth. An appetizer before tonight.

Something felt empty though. Kissing Renji did not feel as good as it usually felt.

Then the door suddenly flung open for the second time that day, and a tall, lean, orange-haired man stepped in, a paper bag hanging from his hand.

He stopped short.

Rukia gasped, tearing her lips off Renji's, and looked into the shocked and hurt eyes of the very man she had been trying to forget.

''Ichigo?''

**Please don't think Rukia overreacted to Ichigo's callous remark. Maybe she did, but you see, she hasn't had someone so loving to her for so long, plus Ichigo has Kaien's face (because yes, they are the same person) and she's been hoping so bad that he would be different from Kaien. She's opened up all her emotions to him, even more so than to her few close friends, and so his remark struck on cruel to her, not to mention her jealousy of Senna might have added fuel to fire. Anyway, I know some things are confusing right now, but I promise that an explanation of everything will ****come in due time. Please review, and thank you for supporting me so far, all of you!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.**

Rukia gasped as she stared at Ichigo, who stood there before her at the door, his tall frame frozen in shock. His amber eyes slowly drifted to where Renji's arms were wrapped around her tiny waist. Hastily, she pushed the red-haired man's arms away.

What was Ichigo doing here?

Rukia didn't know why, but a pang of guilt assaulted her, as if she had let him down somehow.

_This is ridiculous,_ she told herself indignantly, _I do not owe Ichigo any explanation for anything I do!_

It was so fast that she barely realized what had happened seconds after it did.

Ichigo was quick to the point that he seemed to have teleported. One minute he was standing there, paper bag in one hand, and the next he was right in front of Renji, fist plowing into the man's face, paper bag on the floor.

Renji let out a pained cry as his long body tumbled back, legs stumbling. He crashed into a shelf, crimson hair flying, sending heavy tomes smashing onto the carpeted floor with a reverberating _crash_.

Ichigo could pack a punch alright.

He wasn't done with Renji yet though. The doctor strode up to Renji and grabbed him by the collar, effortlessly hoisting his slumped form up from the crooked shelf, his golden eyes burning.

"Stop it!" Rukia screamed, running up to the pair. Ichigo's strength was terrifying; she had never seen Renji so easily taken down before. Never once had she expected the doctor to be so powerful, especially during those times when she had bickered with him and called him names.

She pawed at the orange-haired man's black coat, long nails digging into the fabric. "Stop it, you stupid jerk!"

Ichigo's head whipped to face her, hands still on Renji's collar, and she flinched when she saw the molten fury in his amber eyes. His orange locks seemed to dance over the fire in the flickering, golden orbs, and his lips were twisted in a hard line. "_Who is he to you?"_

Before Rukia could reply however, Renji's fist shot into the air towards Ichigo. She gaped as Ichigo ducked swiftly, and he then violently shoved Renji against the tinted windows behind Rukia's desk. The impact sent a huge noise of cracked glass ringing through the air, and Rukia's dark head turned in panic to her door, where she knew her co-workers were outside.

Surprisingly, no one came in.

_Enough was enough_, Rukia fumed silently. It was time she ended this.

The lawyer stalked up to where Ichigo stood over Renji, his fist pulled back for another savage blow, and she quickly grabbed hold of his arm with both hands, feeling the hard muscles beneath.

He glanced back angrily, but the fury on his face immediately vanished when she reached up and began pinching his ear, her fingers right beneath the silky orange locks. She twisted it a good three hundred-and-sixty degrees, and he yelped immediately, his grip on Renji loosening.

"Oi, Rukia, stop it!" He yelled, swiping her hand away and releasing Renji.

She glowered at him, huge violet eyes burning with anger. "Whatever you have against Renji, just take it out on me if you want later! Don't touch him. I know what you're trying to do. Playing some sort of kindly saint, trying to protect my virtues!"

Ichigo's mouth dropped open, and for some reason he looked furious again. "Is _that_ what you think? That I'm trying to protect your virtues?"

"I know what kind of person you are," Rukia snapped. "You're kind, so I admit it. But quit this, Ichigo, I'm not your charity case and neither is my sister."

Ichigo shook his head, his silky orange spikes waving slightly. She resisted the urge to reach out and touch it. Ichigo wasn't hers, no matter how much she wished he was. He was a sort of beautiful beast on his own with raw flames of emotions leading him on, and despite his kind heart he wasn't tame. She'd seen what he'd done to Renji. "You don't understand me at all," he said quietly. "I'm not trying to protect your virtues."

"How can I, with the things you hide from me?" Rukia retorted, stalking off and helping a groaning Renji up, and at the same time ignoring the stab of pain that had come with Ichigo's words. At least, if he was trying to protect her virtues, it had showed he cared about her. But she was wrong, wasn't she? The woman didn't notice the flash of jealousy in Ichigo's eyes and how his fists tightened as she gently slung Renji's limp arm over her shoulders. "I wanted to be your friend, Ichigo," she added, looking impassively at him. "But apparently that feeling wasn't mutual."

"Rukia-" Ichigo's desperate voice was cut off by Renji's slightly slurred one.

"Who the fuck is this guy, Rukia?" Renji demanded acidly. He wiped traces of blood from around his nose with his free arm. "Let me take him out, I'll-"

"Shut up, Renji!" Rukia fired at him, tugging at him lightly. "He nearly took _you_ out, and you're still full of all that big talk. Keep quiet and let me get a doctor-" She faltered as she caught Ichigo's eye.

He glared at her. "I'm not treating him."

"Who says I need you?" Rukia shouted, almost violently. Her purple eyes seemed to glow with rage, and Renji turned his head weakly at the sound of her loud voice. Sudden cold fury seemed to erupt from within her. Ichigo had completely messed up her neat and organized life, and this was _it._ She had had enough. "You've been doing nothing but wreaking havoc since you came into my office! Injuring one of my best friends-" Ichigo flinched. "…and then picking a fight with me. I don't need your help! Why are you here anyway? Get the hell out!"

"Fine." Ichigo's voice was suddenly very soft, and yet she realized that he wasn't sad or resigned. His voice was instead hard with a quiet determination; the very voice she had heard him use when he had asked to let him treat her sister.

"I meant to bring you lunch," he nodded at the sad little crumpled paper bag lying on the carpeted floor. "But I guess you can't eat the pork buns I bought for you now." Ichigo looked up at her. "Go buy yourself some, and also drink some hot chocolate if you have any. You look far too pale. Don't forget to drink plenty of water as well."

Rukia was abruptly frozen.

"Who are you?" Renji snarled, lurching on his feet but Rukia's hand held onto him. His disheveled red hair fluttered. "You've no right to tell her what to do-"

"I have every right," Ichigo replied, his voice steely. "You'll find out soon enough." He gazed at Rukia, the fire in his gold eyes flickering. "I'll see you again."

With that, the doctor turned on his heel, pushed the door open, and left.

Rukia could only think: _How did he know pork buns are my favorite?_

_Lalala~_

Ichigo stormed out of the large building, the glass doors swinging violently behind him, and swiftly entered the car he had gotten from Ishida, his long legs sliding into the space before slamming the door shut. Emotion swirled within him; anger, hurt, and …resolution.

When Ichigo had first seen Rukia again after the time gap of ten years, he had been happy. The kind of happy that had made his heart pound and his body ache to just wrap her in his embrace like old times, and bury his face in her sweet-smelling hair. To listen to her giggle and agree with everything he said.

But this Rukia had changed, just like what he had seen throughout the ten years. He had watched the news everyday within the decade in hope to see her face again on the television, and prayed she was doing well. And she was. She had been propelled to fame as quickly as ever, not just as a Kuchiki, but also as one of the best and most self-efficient lawyers like her brother. As he watched her hard, cold face answer questions thrown at her from the reporter, he could feel a pang of pride at his beloved's success.

However, the feeling was bittersweet. This Rukia which he had so meticulously followed the news of did not seem happy. She was not the giggly, sweet girl he had known ten years ago. Instead, she was hardworking, diligent and good at what she did, but he also noticed the grim set of her mouth, the hard and weary look on her face and pale skin as she spoke with the reporters.

He felt no pride in that.

He had looked at her pale face and small stature then as she reprimanded him, and simply bickered back. She obviously did not recall him, or if she did, she was ignoring him. Well, it had been, after all, her choice not to acknowledge him anymore after he'd left for London to study in medical school. He was just the mysterious boy she had had a fling with in the woods every evening ten years ago.

And Ichigo had left it at that. He had stood by her, as a mere friend, throughout their second encounter ten years later, and a huge part of him simply burned for her to remember and acknowledge him, and then they could go together again.

But the kiss he had witnessed just now had shattered his illusions. Rukia, in a passionate lip lock with another man, as they stood entwined in each other's embrace in the middle of her office. Hurt and fury had soared through him, and he truly saw red. He had immediately been consumed by the overwhelming urge to break every bone in the insufferable man's body, the man who was holding her the way he had held her ten years ago.

The man who had held what _belonged_ to Ichigo.

The incident had opened his eyes. Rukia was not going to obediently stick by him, and he was not going to stand there idly and pray she return to him and expect results.

He was going to make her his again.

Technically, he strongly believed she was already rightly his in the first place, but he only needed to make her realize that.

He turned the steering wheel violently, and the car swerved as it screeched through the streets. Pedestrians stared and women crossing the road blushed as they caught sight of the driver, his head propped against his raised lean arm on the window with a mutinous look on the attractive planes of his face, and the other hand steering the wheel expertly.

His mobile phone abruptly rang, and he picked it up from his jeans pocket, scowling. "Hello?"

"ICHIGOOOO!" Isshin trilled, his usually deep voice going up an octave. "What's wrong? You sound so angry!"

Damn, he hadn't noticed his caller ID. "What is it you want now?"

"Oh, my, so COOOOOLD!" Isshin wailed theatrically. "I am no longer loved in this world! I am alone and desolate, and I shall die lonely-"

"Dad." It was a single word, but the intensity and emotion were immense in his tone.

Isshin stopped his rant, becoming apparent to him that something was not right. Ichigo rarely sounded like he was… in pain. At least, it rarely managed to escape his voice.

"What's wrong, son?" He asked gently.

"It's nothing much," Ichigo said quietly. "I've made up my mind about something, that's all."

"I see," Isshin replied softly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Ichigo smiled faintly, stepping on the gas, and steered the wheel with his free hand. "Nah, too troublesome. But I know what to do now."

"Good luck," Isshin tapped his smartphone lightly from his side of the line. "But like everything you've made up your mind to do, I'm sure you'll do it right."

"Thanks, Dad," Ichigo murmured quietly.

"ANYWAY!" Isshin once again regained his vigor. He grinned widely, despite the fact that Ichigo could not see him. The father's two companions watched him from a corner in his office, sighing to themselves. "YOU HAVE A JOB TO DO, BELOVED SON!"

"What?" Ichigo groaned , running a hand through his orange locks and abandoning the wheel temporarily. "I can't do anything now, okay? I need to return to the hospital and carry out a further examination on the content in the syringes. Apparently, something that shouldn't be there is there."

"Inoue-chan is reaching the airport in twenty minutes from London," Isshin reprimanded him, unfazed. Ichigo's eyes widened. "I told her you'll pick her up!"

"Dammit!" The doctor snapped. The car sped down a lane. "Why can't you go pick her up, since you have all this time to waste talking to me?"

"Now, now," Isshin responded reproachfully. "I am a busy man, you know. The Kurosaki Corps is going to hold a meeting soon, and I need to attend a press conference. Our clients are waiting. Besides, I already promised Inoue-chan you'd go. You are her employer too, you know." One of his two companions snickered.

Ichigo sighed, but he knew his father was right. "Fine. Where is she going to stay?"

"With your sisters in the hotel," Isshin replied. He lowered his voice. "Listen, Ichigo, I understand you want to work on the syringes, especially how it may concern your mother. I encourage it. In fact, I want to know the results as badly as you do." His voice was dark with sorrow. "But you mustn't forget yourself in the process."

"Will do," Ichigo answered irritably. "Didn't you just say you trust me to do things right?" The man changed course, the car shooting over a U-turn. "I'm heading to the airport now."

"Right," Isshin said. He chuckled sadly. "Well, you can't blame your father for worrying sometimes. What concerns you concerns us."

"Dad, too mushy," Ichigo snapped. "This is not a drama, okay? In any case, I'm hanging up. See you." He pressed the 'End Call' button and shoved his phone back into his pocket.

He would head back to the hospital as soon as he dropped off Inoue at the hotel.

Isshin was still chuckling as he hung up. He lowered his smartphone, before gazing at his companions. They stood beside his office's bookshelf; a large, muscular Mexican man and a lady with long black hair.

"I need you guys to do me a favor," Kurosaki Isshin said, more seriously now, his chuckles gone. His eyes were dark and narrowed, and he strode towards them, his loafers grazing the carpeted floor. "It's not something lawyers normally do, but then…"

"It's about Kisuke Urahara and Shihoin Yoruichi, isn't it?" Chad Yasutora intoned, his deep voice rumbling in the suddenly sober atmosphere.

"Yes," Isshin agreed. "Something's wrong. Kisuke is silent about what's going on, and we need to find out."

"So…" Tatsuki Arisawa, the woman who had snickered before, cracked her knuckles in anticipation. "We head to London, where they are, and get to the bottom of this."

Isshin nodded grimly. "I'll be counting on you two then."

_Lalala~_

The BMW purred elegantly along the road, its polished black hood gleaming proudly. Reporters and the paparazzi swarmed like hungry bees around the luxurious car, predatory looks on their faces and their cameras flashed, white lights blinking vigorously.

From inside the car, Renji glanced nervously at his employer, his tattooed hands struggling not to fidget.

Byakuya would disapprove.

The man seemed to be made of stone, Renji thought. Nothing fazed him.

And it was somewhat true. Byakuya sat poised on the leather seat, indifferent to the onslaught of reporters crowding outside his car, and their screams.

''Is Hisana Kuchiki going to make it out of this alive? Is her condition stable?''

''Are you prepared for her death, should it happen, Mr Byakuya?''

At the last question, Byakuya's steely grey eyes seemed to flicker and Renji gulped as the aura in the automobile turned dark and heavy.

Byakuya nodded at the chauffeur. ''Pick up the speed.'' He ordered calmly.

The chauffeur obeyed, and the huge car sped up, its engine purring. Reporters cried out as the car nearly knocked into them, and many ran hastily out of the way. Some remained stubborn, clutching their cameras and microphones as they resumed their chase after the car.

Byakuya had left the office after picking up some important files and was on his way back to the hospital again. The staff had gone a little crazy, not to mention mixed in with much nervousness, upon his arrival at the quarters of the Kuchiki Corps. Despite being the Chairman, Byakuya hardly went there. He spent much of his time at work overseas.

''Do not slouch, Renji,'' Byakuya said quietly. ''It is ever so ungraceful.''

Renji gulped again, and quickly straightened his back so much to the point that it felt as if a rod had been jammed up his spine.

Only Byakuya could make a car ride so uncomfortable. Or anything, really.

''You were telling me about your injuries, Renji,'' Byakuya said impassively. He crossed his long legs regally. ''And your other colleagues, as well, informed me about this... intruder.''

''Yes, sir!'' Renji exclaimed, feeling the familiar indignation and anger welling up within him. The bandage on his forehead still reminded him of his humiliating defeat, not to mention how his whole body ached painfully from his onslaught of bruises. ''This man... this orange-haired man, barged into Rukia's office when I was in there and promptly attacked me. I... well, was taken by surprise, sir, so... I took the brunt of it.''

That was one way to put it, Renji thought sullenly. But he was going to salvage the remains of his pride, no matter what.

''Orange-haired man?'' Byakuya repeated pensively, his grey eyes narrowed.

''Rukia called him Ichigo, sir,'' Renji added meekly.

Byakuya's eyes narrowed further and his long, dark hair fell slightly over his face, but the man brushed it back elegantly. ''So I see. Kurosaki Ichigo has made his appearance once again. And he's wreaking havoc in my own firm now, no doubt.'' Renji didn't miss the unmistakable trace of anger in Byakuya's cold voice. ''You said he entered Rukia's office?''

''Yes, sir,'' Renji said politely. How had Rukia known that crazy guy anyway? Sure, he was good-looking (much as Renji wanted to deny it) but he was obviously off his head. ''Rukia seemed familiar with him.''

Byakuya's eyes were narrowed dangerously, and Renji suddenly hoped he hadn't gotten Rukia into trouble. She seemed as stressed as it was. He worried about her. She had been distant and distracted since the psycho orange-haired man left.

''Do you know why the man attacked you?" Byakuya inquired calmly.

Renji shook his head. ''I have no idea, sir. That was my first time meeting him. You know him, sir?''

He sure wasn't going to tell Byakuya that he had been kissing Rukia. He wasn't sure how the man would react, but happy certainly wasn't going to be the reaction. Not to mention he did not want to make things even more awkward between him and Byakuya, being the Chairman's personal assistant.

Now that was not an easy job.

''It is none of your concern,'' Byakuya replied smoothly, and Renji wanted to shrivel up and die. ''However, you can be assured that your medical bills will be handled by the Kuchiki family.''

Renji's eyes widened. ''Sir-!''

''My employees are my responsibility,'' Byakuya responded coolly, the perfect features of his face expressionless. ''Now kindly please vacate the car, Renji.''

The red-haired man turned as scarlet as his hair when he realised that they had long reached the entrance of the hospital, and that the chauffeur was standing patiently by the open door of the car, waiting for him to get out.

He scrambled out of his seat, thinking, _oh lord, can't I see my boss without embarrassing myself at least once? _

Renji whipped around when a few reporters went diving towards him and Byakuya, but a few bodyguards decked in suits and sunglasses (they had been waiting at the glass entrance of the hospital for the car to arrive) fended them off. The reporters screamed out questions from where they were helplessly held down, to which Byakuya ignored. Renji knew for a fact that Byakuya didn't need the bodyguards. He had once been a disciple of the Flash Goddess herself, and was now about as formidable as the woman, loathe as he was to admit being once the student of the person he hated most.

He followed his boss along the long, quiet corridors in the hospital, the files in his arms, feeling uncomfortable as the bodyguards trailed silently behind, while a nurse escorted them to a large door on the top floor. She blushed wildly as she gazed at Byakuya and hastily pulled open the door with a slight _creak_, only to see another nurse finishing up an injection on Hisana's bedridden form, Senna standing beside her.

The very nurse nearly dropped her empty syringe, her gloved fingers twitching when she was met head on with Byakuya's icy stare. _Poor girl_, Renji thought sympathetically. It was never nice to be on the receiving end of the Kuchiki glare. He knew from personal experience.

The first nurse scampered off, while the bodyguards remained stationed outside obediently despite the dangerous atmosphere.

"I leave for a few hours, and what is this? May I ask who gave you permission to administer injections to my wife?" Byakuya inquired pointedly, his frosty gaze narrowing down at the girl.

"I gave her, sir," Senna chimed in hastily, before the poor nurse nearly collapsed. "It happens that Dr Ichimaru issued the injections personally himself-"

"Who pays your salary, Ichimaru or I?" Byakuya cut her off smoothly.

Senna shifted uneasily, her gold eyes darting around furtively. "You, sir."

"Precisely. So who do you listen to?"

"You, sir." Her voice was as docile as ever, but Renji thought he noticed a faint trace of anger in the girl's voice. Her face was currently lowered to the floor however, and her expression hidden.

"And did _I_ issue an order for Hisana to receive her injections?"

"N-no, sir." The woman's voice was definitely shaking now, Renji noted, but it wasn't from fear. Was it… anger?

Something was amiss, Renji realised. Something not quite right.

"So why did you act without my permission?" Byakuya's voice was emotionless.

"I apologize, sir." Senna replied quietly. The nurse was bowed, and she turned slightly to wrap up the needles and syringes. Plastic crinkled, and Renji watched as she rolled up her cotton swabs. The scent of alcohol was strong in the air.

"One more mishap on your part, Senna," Byakuya stated acidly, striding up to the bed elegantly, "And I will no longer require your employment. I do not care what Hisana would say, since you appear to take her life a lot less seriously than she did yours." Beeping filled the room.

Renji shuddered. His boss was as ruthless as usual.

Senna bowed, her body trembling. "Yes, sir. I apologise, sir."

"You are dismissed," Byakuya nodded indifferently at the servant, and she dipped her head respectfully before fleeing the large room. The door closed behind her with a soft _thud_.

Byakuya stared at the motionless form of his wife. Her breathing mask clouded up every now and then as she breathed slowly, and the heart monitor beeped consistently. The woman was even paler and thinner than Renji recalled, and her uncanny resemblance to Rukia still unnerved him.

The man lowered himself gracefully on a chair beside Hisana, his long coat flapping lightly, and Renji watched uncomfortably as he reached out a large pale hand and stroked the woman's dark hair tenderly. "How is she?"

The nurse lowered her head humbly, her white cap bobbing. She seemed to have somewhat recovered from just now, and she now looked at her clipboard. "Mrs Kuchiki's condition has been somewhat stable since her surgery. However, her blood pressure is dangerously low, not to mention that she has a serious low count of blood cells. Dr Urahara at first suspected that her bone marrow was not functioning properly, but after being closely monitored these few days, it seems there is nothing wrong with it. Her blood count has increased since her surgery, and just a few minutes ago, I was instructed to inject Mrs Kuchiki's usual vaccines. "

Byakuya narrowed his eyes, although his gaze remained fixed on his wife's blank face. "I am already aware of this. So what _is_ the cause of my wife's low blood count? None of the other physicians seem capable of telling me."

The nurse shook her head regretfully. "I do not know either, sir. But we can ask Dr Ichimaru-"

"There is no need," Byakuya cut in sharply. "I do not require that man's advice." He finally looked up, his elegantly slanted grey eyes dark, and Renji felt a pang of something that he never thought he would ever feel towards his employer. Sympathy. "My wife has been unconscious ever since the surgery, even after her sedatives wore off. What are the chances of her surfacing from her coma?"

"Unfortunately, only time will tell, sir," The nurse answered timidly.

Byakuya leaned back, his eyes closing calmly. "You may go."

Renji politely moved aside as the nurse shuffled out of the room, carrying her small plastic kit and her clipboard. Her rubber gloves, which she had removed, dangled from her fingers in a small white, shrivelled chunk of rubber.

"Renji." Byakuya's deep voice intoned.

The lawyer immediately spun around, and he fought the urge to salute like a soldier in front of his sergeant. "Yes, sir?"

The Kuchiki caressed his wife's limp fingers, the pads of his long fingers stroking gently on where the needles of the tubes met her icy flesh. "I have a task for you. However, it is not within your job criteria, and therefore I would understand if you should refuse."

"What is it, sir?" Renji asked, trying to hide his curiosity.

"I would like you to investigate Kurosaki Ichigo's whereabouts."

Renji grinned and whooped inwardly. Oh, yes! He was actually given a chance to stalk that pyscho! And if he was lucky, to beat the shit out of that orange guy for what he did to him.

Byakuya seemed to read his mind, however. "Do not act rashly, Renji. I want no further violence from either of you. I simply want information about the boy. Normally, I would hire a private detective," he paused with what Renji would call a regal, tranquil pause, "but for now, I shall put my trust in you for the job. As a lawyer, collecting information is what you do best, no?" He looked at Renji dispassionately.

"I won't let you down, sir!" Renji nodded importantly.

Oh, that Ichigo guy was _so _going to get it from him.

_Lalala~_

Senna fumed. Steam nearly sprouted from her purple locks as she stomped angrily into Gin's office, her heel smashing the white floor violently. The door slammed shut behind her, and wind chimes tinkled.

The office that had once been Kisuke's had not changed at all. The room that was littered on the shelves with the oddest objects like wooden orbs, small figurines and even his medical files which were plastered with comical cartoony stickers remained. The only thing wrong was the presence of the tall, slender man with the Cheshire smile sitting at the centre of what was once Urahara's universe.

"That _bloody, fucking_ Kuchiki Byakuya!" She screamed, her shrill voice echoing off the walls. Gin peered up from where he was serenely perched on his chair, his thin eyebrows arching. "How dare he threaten to fire me? Who does he _fucking_ think he is!?"

"Uh," Gin smiled languidly, "Your employer and one of the most powerful men on Earth?"

She glared at him, her dishevelled purple locks falling over the twisted features of her face. The girl stormed up to the intern, wagging a finger at his smiling face. "I've been taking care of his _stupid_ wife since I joined ten years ago! His silly, weak little wife, who doesn't even _work_, who doesn't do anything but spend gazillions of money every day! _I_ slave away, not to mention having to face the bitchy Rukia Kuchiki as well, _every day!_ And he doesn't even bother to show a single shred of appreciation!" She breathed heavily, her dainty nostrils flaring, as she struggled to control herself.

"Yes, yes, he doesn't show appreciation that you have to face his bitchy sister and silly wife every day," Gin remarked lazily, staring at his desk, bored. "How terribly cruel of him, indeed."

Senna narrowed her eyes. "Just whose side are you on, bastard?"

"Any side that offers cookies," Gin cheered. He paused, and added on an afterthought, "Though persimmons are good too."

Senna seethed, her gold eyes burning, and her round face red with anger. "If it wasn't for my Ichigo, I wouldn't even consider putting up with you people."

"Hey," Gin pointed out defensively, "what's wrong with persimmons?"

She slammed her hand on the desk, almost frothing with rage. Papers rustled and Gin's eyebrows arched. "Excuse me, but the bitch Rukia Kuchiki and Ichigo are together! Didn't you guys say they wouldn't meet again? Didn't Aizen? Ichigo belongs to _me_! I did not slave away for ten years just for all of you to _fail_!"

Gin's IPhone suddenly rang, and he fished it out of his pocket delicately with long, thin fingers, seemingly unaffected by Senna's tantrum. " 'Ello!" he drawled, his grin broadening. "Oh? You want to talk to her? Certainly. She seems to be in a talkative mood today."

Senna grabbed the piece of cold metal from his fingers, seething and breathing loudly with barely controlled rage. "What?" She snapped savagely into the phone, her fingers clutching it so tightly that the screen nearly cracked.

Gin's lips curved sardonically.

The woman flinched when a male voice tsked. "Senna, Senna," the voice drawled disapprovingly.

"What do you want now?" Senna demanded coldly. How she loathed that repulsive silky voice, and his narcissism, the way he thought the world of his existence.

What a slimy, disgusting man he was.

"Is that any way to talk to me?" Szayel Aporro inquired softly. She could already picture his fingers wriggling suggestively, and how his stupid pink hair was probably draped neatly over his repulsive, lewd face. "Especially after how you let us down, allowing Ichigo Kurosaki and Ishida Uryuu to find _my perfect_ drug in the syringes thanks to your carelessness."

"I admit I was careless," Senna said through clenched teeth. "It won't happen again, so get the fuck off my back."

"Oh, it's not me you have to worry about," Szayel Aporro purred, venom dripping off his voice. "It's Aizen-sama I wouldn't want to get the bad side of, if I were you."

"Look," Senna snapped viciously. "I want my Ichigo as much as you guys want whatever you guys want. But it's not just my carelessness that's the problem now. The bastard Byakuya Kuchiki doesn't allow any more injections to be administered to Hisana, at least not from the Seretei Hospital. He doesn't trust Gin. Still, who would? This guy has _untrustworthy_ written all over his face. Couldn't Aizen have chosen someone else here?"

"Hey," Gin chimed in defensively, his fox grin widening in mock hurt.

"I suppose that is a problem," Szayel sniffed delicately. Senna tried not to puke. "But not one _I_ have to deal with. My issue is that Kurosaki Ichigo has found my drug. There is no second one like it in the world, unless you count my other stores of it, but as much as I abhor admitting this, that pesky doctor and his other doctor friends might figure out something to it."

"Don't call Ichigo pesky," Senna snarled violently. Her gold eyes were narrowed with anger and annoyance. "This matter will be handled accordingly. I won't let the bitch ruin my plans to be with Ichigo."

"Aah, love," Szayel sighed. "What fools these mortals be."

_Lalala~_

Inoue Orihime fidgeted uneasily as she stood in the centre of the bustling airport, her bright pink luggage leaning against her long, shapely legs. People swept past, their luggage clacking noisily against the cold air of the building. Air stewardesses sauntered daintily in clusters, chatting and giggling amiably amongst themselves. Announcements blasted over the speakers on incoming flights, echoing across marble walls.

Inoue sighed, and sank down on one of the many, many rows of black benches, pulling her fluffy luggage with her. Her green scarf rustled slightly from around her slender neck, and she smiled slightly at it. Ichigo had gotten it for on her birthday a few years ago, and she treasured it to no end. The nurse glanced at her reflection from a mirror of a nearby pillar. She looked beautiful, as always.

Well, to the guys she had no interest in, anyway.

As for the guy she had interest in, not so much…

She wasn't a fool. Ichigo could have come to Japan partly because of his family, but for him to agree to do so had definitely been due to the existence of Rukia Kuchiki.

Rukia Kuchiki… how had Kurosaki-kun known her? He seemed to have recognized her on a personal level, and she had noticed how distracted he had been when the lawyer had left the clinic before.

Inoue was a nice person at heart, and she felt guilty for holding such antagonistic feelings towards Kuchiki Rukia, who had done nothing against her. But…

Perhaps it was time she acted more decisively to win Kurosaki-kun over.

_Yes!_ Inoue puffed up her already enormous chest in resolution as she stood up, newfound courage running through her. She would win Kurosaki-kun's heart!

"What are you doing, Inoue?" A familiar, amused voice sounded, and she let out an embarrassed squeal as she caught sight of Ichigo's arched eyebrows. He stood before her, holding his car keys, and she struggled to hold back a blush at his messy, orange locks, the long coat that swept down his lean body, and his mesmerising amber eyes which were currently filled with amusement.

"Aah, Kurosaki-kun!" Inoue trilled cheerily, hastily maintaining her composure as she grabbed her fluffy pink luggage. "How are you?"

"Sorry for being late," Ichigo replied, scratching at his head with his free hand. He smiled warmly at her. "Yeah, I'm doing fine. Let me help you with that."

He easily hoisted up the pink luggage she had been struggling with using one hand and she fought not to swoon. The nurse glanced at him, and noticed, much to her disappointment, that he was looking distracted again.

Couldn't he ever stay focused on her, just once?

"How's the clinic doing?" Ichigo wanted to know. "And you, of course." He grinned at her.

She smiled shyly. "The clinic is fine right now. I closed it for a while, and thankfully back then you made sure all our patients were cleared. And yes, I'm fine! So, Kurosaki-kun," she added casually, the two of them beginning to stride out of the airport. People walked briskly past. "Where am I staying?"

"Oh, right," Ichigo suddenly said, coming out of whatever deep thoughts he'd been immersed in, "You'll be staying with Karin and Yuzu at a hotel. Dad booked it for you already. In fact, I'm driving you over there now."

The glass doors opened automatically, and they stepped out, the warmer breeze blowing across their hair gently. Their shoes clicked on the concrete as they strode out. Cars zoomed by, sending fumes and grit into the air and some of it hit her skin.

"Eeeh, Kurosaki-kun," She exclaimed in disappointment, not noticing her skin being under assault, "You're not taking me out to have fun together?"

"Not today, sorry," Ichigo smiled at her apologetically. "Maybe some other day? By the way, that's a nice scarf you have."

It was flapping vigorously alongside his face, and she quickly pulled it down, her cheeks burning. "But it's your scarf, Kurosaki-kun! You gave it to me on my birthday two years ago, remember?"

Ichigo's face looked blank. "I did?" He guided her across the car park, not noticing her crestfallen expression. "Here's the car. Technically it's Ishida's."

Suddenly, her tummy growled audibly and she flushed even redder as the noise reverberated through loudly in the space of the car park. Ichigo raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Did you miss lunch, Inoue?"

She nodded bashfully, her long orange locks falling over her cherubic face.

He chuckled, and opened the car door, before gesturing at her to get in. "You stay here, okay? I'll go back to the airport to buy a sandwich or two for you."

The doctor then moved to the back of the small car and hoisted the pink briefcase into the boot. Metal thudded against metal as he finally slammed the boot shut.

Inoue clambered clumsily into the car, her long legs flipping over the front of the seat. She carefully adjusted her scarf and waved at Kurosaki as he headed off.

Kurosaki-kun … he was so distant. She could feel her heart tearing at his lack of romantic interest in her.

It was all Rukia Kuchiki's fault.

That sudden thought trooped into her mind and she flinched violently at the mixture of guilt and savage satisfaction that came with it. _No no no! _

She believed in being nice to people. This was what her deceased older brother had taught her, after all. It was just getting a little too hard…

The sounds of a phone ringing assaulted her train of thought and she glanced down curiously. That wasn't her Elmo's World ringtone. She peered towards the sound and caught sight of Ichigo's mobile vibrating on the driver's seat, an unknown caller ID flashing on the little screen.

Inoue reached out uncertainly, and pressed the 'ANSWER' button, before pressing the phone against her ear.

A familiar, female voice snapped out, sounding a little uncomfortable but otherwise angry. "Listen here, Ichigo, don't think that this is an apology about what happened in my office earlier, because it's not! I just feel that maybe we should talk things out-"

"Hello?" Inoue said softly, feeling her heart pound.

It was Rukia Kuchiki.

This was Inoue's only chance to possibly get Ichigo. Here, on the other line of the phone, was the root of all her problems. Perhaps… she could…

Rukia's voice came on again, and shock filled every inch of her tone. "You're… not Ichigo. You're … a woman."

"Yes," Inoue agreed, her hear still racing and she fought the urge to shudder. "Maybe Ichigo can call you back later? He's kinda busy right now, he-" Inoue deliberately stubbed her toe at the side of the car door, and let out a squeal. Only in Rukia's ears, from where she could see nothing, it sounded like a different squeal than one of pain. "_Ooh… _I'm sorry. We're heading to a hotel right now, maybe later?"

"It's fine." Rukia's voice responded, and this time it was unwavering and cold. "I won't call back again, and neither will he need to. Goodbye, and have a …pleasant time."

With that, Rukia Kuchiki hung up.

Inoue felt horrible. Technically she hadn't lied at all, but she knew what she was doing was wrong. The phone slipped out of her hands.

She felt even more horrible when Ichigo came back, smiling warmly at her as he held up a bag of sandwiches.

_Lalala~ _

The night lamps gleamed down on the highway as cars sped down the road. It was long after ten at night, and a certain BMW raced along, its engine purring.

Rukia Kuchiki sighed as she propped her throbbing head back against the coolness of her seat. She had been working like a maniac all day in her office, and that was all she allowed her mind to focus on; work. Normally, such long hours of work meant nothing to her, but her life was getting more and more distressing by the minute and all that was not helping her headache. She could feel the weight of the files and books on her knees.

Rukia was beginning to get it now. Senna was probably Ichigo's old girlfriend, but now he was seeing his nurse, whose voice she had recognised over the phone. Rukia gazed at her Blackberry. She had not told Ichigo, but she had saved his mobile number after he had called her house number that night at which his caller ID was visible.

Rukia had unconsciously felt somewhat… guilty, that he had bought lunch for her and then had it ruined. _It was his own fault_! Rukia screamed inwardly. After all, it was none of his business who she kissed or slept with. Yet he had attacked Renji.

It was now the same for her, especially after what she had heard over his phone. Her stomach twisted and her lungs constricted agonisingly.

She had been so dumb to try to talk things out with him. She had wanted them to at least be friends again, because, being the stupid emotional cow she was, she craved his company.

Rukia bit her lip. He obviously didn't care for hers. After all, judging from all his lady friends, Rukia just seemed to be one of the many women begging for his attention.

A sudden crackle over the radio caught her attention. Her head rose slowly, as a reporter's voice abruptly sounded from the car radio.

"_Rukia Kuchiki's famous indifference towards relationships has perhaps been compromised? The young lawyer has been reportedly seen entering an unidentified man's apartment last evening and only leaving it the next morning together with the man, who is noted to have distinctive features such as orange hair. Is romance finally brewing for our well-known single woman? Here we have Kugo Ginjo with a videotape of the scoop…"_

"Turn it off, please," Rukia ordered, and the chauffeur obeyed, his gloved hand turning the switch.

Her hellhole of a life had only just got worse.

She didn't have to wait long. Fifteen minutes later, her Blackberry vibrated from where it lay nestled on her lap. She didn't need to check the caller ID to know who it was. Rukia picked the phone up.

"Hello?" Her voice was cracked, and her whole body felt strangely numb, except for the pulsing agony at the back of her skull.

Her brother's icy, calm baritone spoke.

"Rukia. We need to talk."

**And now everybody and everything is on the move. The plot is finally stirring and things are gonna be seriously dramatic now! I'm really so honoured about you guys' support so far, (THANK YOUUUUU!) and I also realised I haven't updated for about a month, wow. I'm so sorry, but school is just… not a piece of cake. But now that my term break is starting again soon, I'm happy to announce that I won't be MIA for as long as a month. **

**I'm not exactly sure when my next update will be, but then there is no greater motivator than you guys' reviews! I love you all! Please review, and tell me what you think!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. **

Rukia walked slowly to the large door situated before her, her bare feet treading heavily on the timber tiles in her mansion. Smooth wood rubbed against her soles. She felt tired and empty, to the point that the dread which was supposed to consume her being simply didn't. The pain at the back of her head continued throbbing. She felt sick, and the one meal she ate today threatened to resurface.

Seiko peered at her with sympathetic wrinkled eyes, his small back bent almost apologetically. The butler turned unhurriedly and raised a shriveled, gnarled hand before rapping politely on the door. The oak rumbled echoingly.

"Come in," Byakuya's chilly, stone-cold voice intoned from inside.

The servant pulled the doors open, his gloved knuckles straining slightly, and the massive oak pulled apart with a loud _creak. _He moved respectfully to one side for Rukia to enter. She went in through the vast doors, her eyes dim and her lips tight.

The room was enormous, with a golden chandelier hanging grandly from the wide ceiling, and looming shelves stood clustered around the spacious and luxurious area, declaring their territory. A large, black glass-crystal table was positioned elegantly in the back of the room, long dark velvet curtains framing it from behind. And seated composedly in between them on a large chair was her brother-in-law, his slate grey eyes resting on his files, his ringed hand briskly writing away.

Currently, he seemed to elude an unruffled and serene aura, but Rukia knew how quickly it could turn terrifying within a bat of the eyelid.

Byakuya lifted his head regally, his gaze arrogantly insouciant, before nodding dismissively at Seiko. The servant bowed once more, before departing the room, closing the large doors behind him softly. The long shadows stretching out from the door across the room shifted.

She was now alone with her brother in his study room.

He put down his pen, and looked at her, his face expressionless. "Rukia."

She inclined her head civilly. "Nii-sama."

"Sit." His voice was cold and dispassionate.

She pulled out the chair placed in front of the table, and seated herself neatly, her hands folded demurely on her knees. She was in deep shit, and she knew it.

"I am certain you know why we are here," Byakuya intoned, his tone glacial. His grey eyes pierced her like daggers before her and she resisted the urge to flinch. The cool air sent goose bumps erupting on her skin.

"Yes, Nii-sama," Rukia answered humbly. "It's about the news, isn't it?"

"I must say I am very disappointed in you, Rukia," Byakuya said bluntly, his voice hardening and freezing even colder than usual. "Your sister is in a critical condition right now, and you fool about, dishonoring the family name?"

Rukia felt a stab of hurt, and her mouth opened hastily. "If I may speak, Nii-sama-"

"No, you may not," Byakuya cut in icily. She winced this time, realizing that he was truly angry. The kind of anger that would have reduced a normal man to lose his temper. "I happen to have, fortunately for you, bought over the videotape involving the scene and also paid the media quite a sum not to play the news report again." Rukia swallowed, wishing desperately that she could explain herself. But one did not interrupt Byakuya Kuchiki.

"However," Byakuya's cold eyes rested on her face as he set his papers to one side, "The damage is already done. If Hisana was conscious right now, I am sure she would agree that you have disappointed all of us. I expected more of you, Rukia."

_You always expect more of me_, Rukia thought resentfully. _Even if I climbed Mount Everest, you would look at me and say, why didn't you reach Heaven, Rukia?_

She knew, of course, that her brother did somewhat, albeit detachedly, care for her. He had funded her throughout her life, and that was something huge in itself considering the kind of abusive lifestyle she and Hisana had shared before.

But it _hurt,_ to be under the care of a man who merely took her in because she came along as a package with his beloved.

"You lied to me," Byakuya stated quietly, the sculpted lips pursed in a straight line. His dark hair brushed against the flawless features of his face. "This very morning, you stated that you had been in contact with the boy only today. Do you or do you not deny that?"

"I lied, and I am sorry, Nii-sama," Rukia said softly. "But I swear that I didn't sleep with Kurosaki Ichigo or anything else that the public seems to think. We don't have that type of relationship." _Sadly,_ a sly voice chirped in her head and she hastily threw the traitorous thought away.

Byakuya observed her carefully, and she could see a light tinge of incredulity in his narrow steely eyes. "You expect me to believe that nothing indecent happened between you and that boy that night?"

"Yes, Nii-sama," Rukia said bravely, forcing herself to stare into his piercing eyes. It was not easy; she hardly dared to challenge him, but she was innocent and he had to know that. "I merely fell asleep at his apartment that night. We do not view each other that way at all."

She missed Hisana so badly then, for her sister would definitely have trusted her. While there was no doubt that Byakuya was a just man, he was not a compassionate one. Everything to him revolved about facts and honor; Hisana remained to be the only sentimental exception to him.

Byakuya's eyes were narrowed slits on the sophisticated planes of his sharp face. "Are you aware that the man whose apartment you _slept_ in assaulted my own assistant in your office?"

Rukia gulped. Shit, it seemed that Byakuya had already been informed about that. Apparently, all her co-workers had heard the commotion from inside her office but had merely thought that they were fooling around inside. Without Matsumoto around the quarters to sniff out what was going on, no one's interest was truly piqued until Ichigo stormed out of the office, and when Renji followed suit soon after, badly injured.

"Ichigo-he… can be a little reckless," Rukia stuttered nervously. "He's really not that bad."

_Why was she defending him?_

"Oh? Reckless?" Byakuya repeated calmly, a long eyebrow arched. "That is one word for it." He looked at Rukia contemptuously. "I am afraid I feel no respect for anyone who disrupts my company or assaults my employees."

"Nii-sama-"

"I do not care what your relationship with that boy is," Byakuya continued coldly. "What I do know is that you are fraternizing with someone who poses as a threat to my firm, and it must end." Rukia's heart was thumping wildly with hurt and anxiety beneath her chest; all she had wanted was to help Hisana. Why had it come to this? "It is quite a shame for me to acknowledge that my own sister, a member of the Kuchiki family, is under such close terms with that boy, to the point that she actually deliberately tried to deceive myself with lies. Therefore, if I ever should catch you with Kurosaki Ichigo again…" Byakuya's slate grey eyes were apathetic and bleak. "I no longer want you as part of my family."

Rukia's insides seemed suddenly to freeze as coldly as his demeanor, and her nausea deepened drastically. Her only meal was making its presence more prominent than ever in her stomach, and her windpipe seemed to be on fire. Her neatly tied bun suddenly felt as if it was hovering on her head, ready to fall off anytime. Just like her composure. Her status.

Her brother was threatening to disown her.

"Nii-sama," she murmured faintly. "Hisana…"

"Hisana would be upset by my decision, of course," Byakuya replied unaffectedly, already returning to his work. His file flipped smartly beneath his long, pale fingers. "But I'm afraid your behavior has been just as upsetting, Rukia. Do not disappoint me again. Spare a thought for your sister's current condition as well."

Rukia's face was numb. "Yes, Nii-sama. I promise I will not go near Ichigo Kurosaki again."

_Lalala~_

The moonlight gleamed as it shone its rays down onto the tall, white building standing by the now virtually empty road aside from the occasional car. Its multiple dark windows glinted as the moon rays reflected off the glass, and from inside a certain window stood two doctors.

Ichigo slammed the table with such power that a dead rat bounced from where it lay strapped to a small metallic contraption. A small sample of crimson blood sat next to it, nestled in a test tube rack, along with an even tinier sample of a clear transparent substance.

"Calm down, Kurosaki," Ishida said from where he stood next to his friend, but his usually calm voice was restrained and his own fists were tight, the rubber gloves strained over his thin fingers.

"You ask me to calm down?" Ichigo demanded violently, his amber eyes burning beneath his thick lashes. "Hisana Kuchiki is being poisoned and I'm to calm down?"

"There's no doubt about it," Ishida agreed sadly, his expression grim. "The rat has proven everything."

"That's right. This chemical, when injected, immediately blends into the blood plasma, making it almost impossible to detect. It's nearly ingenious," Ichigo snarled bitterly, his orange locks drooping over his forehead. His white coat rustled over the metal table. "Then it begins to destroy blood cells within a span of a few hours. If this tiny bit-" he jabbed a gloved finger at the small sample of the clear substance, "… can kill a rat, can you imagine what it's doing to that poor woman's body? She receives daily injections of this shit every day!"

"Didn't Senna hold responsibility for Hisana Kuchiki's injections?" Ishida reminded him, his glasses glinting, momentarily concealing his eyes. "Yet you still haven't interrogated our main suspect. The evidence was overwhelming before. Now it's just obvious."

"I will, I promise," Ichigo said quietly, some of his anger deflating into a kind of silent despair. "But I still don't think Senna would do something like this. She might have been set up."

"Kurosaki," Ishida responded patiently. "Your mother passed away due to a mysteriously severe low blood count. That is a very obvious link, isn't it?"

"Shut up. I know." Ichigo snapped viciously, but Ishida was aware that the venom in his voice was empty. The orange-haired man looked away, his gloved fingers shaking almost invisibly.

"And who happened to be one of the servants in the Kurosaki Household then who gave her injections ten years ago?" Ishida continued bluntly, his dark eyes resting sympathetically on Ichigo's long frame.

Kurosaki Ichigo finally looked up, his gaze meeting Ishida's almost defiantly. "Senna." His voice was hard, and also slightly shaky.

"Yes, Kurosaki, and you know perfectly well that it's near impossible for her to be set up twice, unless she's really that stupid."

"I wish she was," Ichigo glowered belligerently. His fist tightened painfully, to the extent that his knuckles were white. The man glared at the dead rat as if it was his enemy. "Then we wouldn't even need to suspect her at all."

Ishida's head tilted indifferently as he walked up to a water cooler and pulled out a paper cup from the corner of the machine. "I'm just glad we have someone to suspect. It's better than being in the dark."

"You don't like her, do you?" Ichigo deadpanned. "You never liked her."

"Let's just say that among all our friends, she's the only one I'd rather suspect of murder," Ishida replied quietly, watching the clear swirl of water gushing down his outstretched cup. "Because if she was the one responsible for your mother's death, then that's what she is. A murderer."

"We still don't know, okay?" Ichigo nearly shouted, his deep voice cracking slightly. "Maybe the real murderer _did _use her twice as the scapegoat by adding stuff into the syringes when she wasn't looking. _Or maybe my mother wasn't murdered at all and we're just overthinking things!" _He slumped slightly, breathing heavily, but Ishida didn't miss the wet glint in Ichigo's amber eyes.

"Do you know how it feels like?" The orange-haired man added in a whisper, some of the fire fading from his golden eyes. "To know that someone you loved so much was possibly killed by someone you trusted? I feel so guilty towards my mother, and yet at the same time I don't _want _to believe it!"

Ichigo's long fingers curled up towards the silver chain around his neck, but they simply lingered over the metal, refusing to touch it.

"No, I don't know how it feels like," Ishida answered softly, his voice insouciant. He adjusted his spectacles, looking unfathomably into his now filled cup. "I've never gone through what you've gone through, Kurosaki. I'm not you. However, I _do_ know that we're both not going to just stand here when we've already gone so far. We're going to finish off what we started, Kurosaki. Because I know you're aware that this isn't just about your mother. This is about a lot of other innocent lives. Hisana Kuchiki, Yoruichi-san, Urahara-san and a lot more people are victims here. We _need _to find out what's going on, and stop it. But I don't need to tell you this, do I?"

There was a long, pregnant pause, broken only by the hum of the electric lights.

Ichigo finally straightened up, gazing at Ishida. Some of the dimness in his expression was fading, only to be replaced with life once more. The sharp features in his face loosened slightly as a sigh escaped his lips. However, it was not a sigh of resignation. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. We need to tell Rukia this too, whether or not she's mad at me. This concerns her sister, after all." He stared into mid-space, his expression growing intense as usual at the thought of his beloved. "I hope she's fine."

He then glanced back at Ishida, a small grin on his lips. "Thanks, by the way."

Ishida sniffed as he sipped his water. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Ichigo's grin simply widened. A companionable silence followed them; a contrast to the awkward one just now.

The bespectacled man lowered his cup, and suddenly stared curiously at Ichigo, coughing politely. "By the way, I had no idea that you and Kuchiki-san have already … gone all the way. It's all over the news that she stayed the night in your apartment. What a nice job trying not to attract publicity to yourself, just saying. Your father will be pleased."

Ichigo choked, the grin wiped from his face.

"WHAT?!"

_Lalala~_

Tatsuki and Chad left the airport, and headed to the nearest taxi-stand, their suitcases rolling behind them. They were dressed as casually as they could get, unlike their usual business wear. Tatsuki was wearing a simple blue polo shirt matched with long pants, her handbag swinging over her shoulder. Her partner was decked in a gigantic buttoned shirt, and long trousers. The bustling crowds of people immediately shifted aside upon sighting the large, intimidating dark-skinned man coming their way. Children, however, were surprisingly not overcome with fear like their parents, and they smiled warmly at the big man and his smaller companion, ignoring their parents' angry hushing.

Chad looked down, and a small smile too formed on his gigantic lips. He raised a muscular arm and waved lightly at the kids, to which they giggled adoringly. The adults looked terrified, clutching both their luggage and offspring tighter. Many hastily shoved themselves into the bright yellow cabs; their feet bouncing off the dirty grey concrete.

Tatsuki smiled inwardly. Chad always had a way with kids.

"So this is London," She commented airily, her long dark locks whipping the air behind her. "Who knew Ichigo survived here on his own for ten years without us to look after him, eh?"

"Ichigo is highly independent," Chad murmured calmly. He hoisted their suitcases into the boot of a cab effortlessly, and Tatsuki gave an envious sigh. The Mexican man slammed the peeling yellow metal lid down, the noise reverberating across the air.

They got in the cab.

"This address, please," Tatsuki said, swapping effortlessly to English. She waved a small piece of paper at the cabby, who glanced at it before igniting the engine with grimy fingers. The car wheezed into life.

"Right you are," he replied obediently, scratching his greying beard, before stepping on the gas.

The pair settled back onto the seat. Tatsuki lazily propped one leg onto the seat, the soles of her Converse pressing onto the torn, black leather. Dust rose into the air.

Chad glanced at her, the single eye beneath his thick mop of curls glinting with disapproval. "You should sit properly."

"Details," Tatsuki replied breezily, staring out at the surroundings whizzing by the cracked car window.

Around an hour later, the cab finally came to a stop before a small, old-looking motel. Tatsuki and Chad stepped out of the car, gazing expressionlessly at the red brick building which stood sturdily before them. A man walked past, wearing dirty slacks and flip-flops, staring at the two.

"Thanks plenty!" Tatsuki called at the driver, as Chad closed the boot once more. They hauled their briefcases along the pavement as the car finally soared off, the tires rolling along the gravel.

"Let's go," Chad intoned, and his partner nodded. They strode along the corridors of the motel, surveying their surroundings. The place was none too luxurious, and was also at the same time none too shabby. The dully painted walls; yet the paint were not peeling or cracking, and all the furnishings seemed to be in decent shape. They continued treading on along the rows of white doors, Tatsuki staring at the same piece of paper she had shown the cabby.

"Here," she said suddenly, her sandaled feet coming to an abrupt halt. The pair stared at the door before them, before she rang the doorbell, which came in the shape of a small button located on the wall.

The door creaked open, and a burly man with neatly plaited black hair and a curly mustache appeared. He was comically wearing a fluffy, pink apron on his heavily-built frame, but no one laughed. The man showed little surprise upon seeing them.

"Tessai," Tatsuki said calmly, peering up at him. "Let us in, please."

There was a short pause, before the man nodded politely and opened the door wider. The newcomers trooped though the doorway, Chad having to stoop slightly in order not to end up banging his head on the ceiling.

They walked through the long corridor, Tessai right behind them, and finally stopped.

Urahara Kisuke sat cross-legged next to the motionless form of Shihoin Yoruichi lying on a futon, his wrist flicking as he fanned himself. He turned languidly towards the pair.

Tatsuki stared at Yoruichi. The normally gleeful and mischievous woman looked as if she was on her deathbed. Her dark skin was now pale, her lips as white as paper. Her purple hair pooled on the pillow like a violet halo.

"Aaah, looks like you found me after all," Urahara remarked casually, but Tatsuki didn't miss the haggard appearance of the man. Urahara was not well-known for looking groomed and proper, that much was true; but this haggardness spoke of someone who was going through hell. She noted the slight eye bags beneath his eyes. Now if there was one thing she knew, it was that Urahara never missed his sleep if he could help it. "Isshin-san truly is an impressive man. Now I assume he sent you two here?"

"Let's not play games anymore, Urahara-san," Tatsuki replied shortly, waving away Tessai's offer of tea. "What's going on?"

"What makes you think something is going on?" Urahara continued waving his fan lazily. He lowered his head to the point that his eyes were hidden cleverly beneath his hat.

"You haven't replied our calls at all," Chad rumbled calmly. "And if I'm not wrong, Yoruichi-san was hit by a bullet that did not even graze her major organs. Why is her condition so serious?"

"Spit it out, Urahara-san," Tasuki added, her voice taut. "We didn't come all the way to London just to watch you fan yourself."

Urahara snapped his fan shut abruptly, before pressing the object against his stubbly chin. "Well, as you can see for yourself, nothing's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong?" Tatsuki said incredulously. She took a step forward. "You passed Hisana Kuchiki's case to an intern! Not to mention an intern like Gin Ichimaru! Everyone, including Kuchiki Byakuya, cannot believe you did that! Why didn't you choose someone else? Please," her voice dropped lightly, and she stared at Urahara beseechingly, "…tell us what's going on."

Urahara tapped his fan silently against his blank face.

"Urahara-san," Chad started, his deep voice rolling against the suddenly cold atmosphere, but Urahara cut him off by throwing the fan violently at him. The large man caught it, looking startled and Tatsuki's eyes widened as she stared into Urahara's suddenly livid face.

"_There's nothing wrong!"_ Urahara snapped, in a rare fit of anger. He whipped away, his green coat flapping, one hand on his hat. "Please leave."

Tatsuki and Chad stared at each other, and Tessai nodded his dark head dismissively towards the door, his gaze apologetic and yet beseeching at the same time.

The duo finally gave in reluctantly, and after a final look at Yoruichi and Urahara, they allowed themselves to be ushered along the corridor, their suitcases swinging. Tessai opened the door quickly, and he then bowed as Tatsuki and Chad walked out of the doorway, heaving their suitcases along.

"I'm sorry," he said solemnly. They looked back from where they stood outside. "It has to be done this way."

With that, the door closed in their faces.

A few seconds later, the pair was swiftly making their way out of the motel, feet bouncing off the veranda. Chad looked down silently as he unclenched his huge fist. His companion quickly reached out to grab the crumpled fan out of his tanned hand.

She pulled apart the green-and-white folds of the fan, and a single tiny note fell out.

All that was written on it with Urahara's messy handwriting was an address.

It was all they needed.

_Lalala~_

Rukia woke up, gasping for air.

It took her a while before she registered her surroundings; she was in her room. She shakily looked down at the long silk blanket that draped her legs, and realised that her tiny fists were clutching the smooth fabric as if it was her lifeline.

Slowly, she released it from her trembling fingers. The crumpled cloth fell back onto her shuddering body. The woman inhaled sharply, struggling to calm her pounding heart.

She had been having nightmares again.

It had been a flashback of her terrifying past, and then followed by another scene -where her sister had passed away.

Rukia dropped back heavily onto her pillows, her small hand clutching her sweaty forehead. She couldn't lose her sister. She _couldn't._

Since she was born, Rukia had lived in a family consisting of a pair of angry, violent parents and a kind, loving sister. She could never forget the kind of hatred they had emitted whenever she and Hisana were around; whenever their _own children_ were around.

In the flashback of her dream, it had been one of the many incidents that happened long ago when Rukia had been five.

Her parents had just returned home then, drunk and bitter. Alcohol and drugs had always revolved around their lives. It seemed that those things meant much more to them than their children. Her father had lit a cigarette with stained, pudgy fingers, and caught sight of his younger daughter staring at him curiously.

''What you looking at?'' He snarled, spittle bursting forth from his filthy mouth. He threw a ragged beer bottle at the toddler, the glass edges glistening dangerously, and at that moment Hisana had intervened.

''Father! No!'' She had cried out, grabbing the tiny Rukia out of the way just in time for the bottle to erupt into millions of glass shards on the grimy floor.

Rukia had been pressed against her sister's warm body, hearing the throbbing sounds of Hisana's heart racing beside her small ear.

She hadn't understood what had happened; all she knew was that her older sister had saved her from something.

Her father scrambled clumsily up from his moulding, flea-bitten armchair, plump body swaying slightly, as he glared at Hisana through furious, blood-shot eyes. ''Who told you to interfere?'' He screamed. ''Women are all the same! _Interfering, nosy hags!_''

The man had reached out to grab her terrified older sister, his filthy hands pulling at the struggling girl's dark hair, and had then endlessly slammed the end of his lit cigarette onto her creamy white skin.

Her sister's agonized screams that night would haunt Rukia for the rest of her life.

And in the final part of her dream she had been screaming and sobbing at her sister's funeral. There had been no one, no Ichigo, no Byakuya- just Rukia and Rukia alone. She had been crying and clutching at the glassy surface of Hisana's coffin, staring into her sister's lifeless face...

Both of Rukia's hands now clutched at her damp face. She could feel her dainty nostrils flaring every now and then as a shaky breath escaped them. Dim sunlight shone comfortingly on her visage through the gap between her fluttering silk curtains, but it did nothing to improve her spirits.

She missed Hisana so badly.

Her sister had lived with their abusive parents for about all her life until she had married Byakuya in her late teens, while Rukia had only her short childhood as a toddler with them. Hisana hadn't run away simply because she loved Rukia too much to desert her with their violent parents; not to mention she didn't have the ability to take care and support Rukia on her own should they run away together. Not that their parents actually supported them much financially, but they gave the sisters cruel labour to do which at least gave them adequate pay.

So Hisana had stayed in the slums with her family, protecting her little sister from the hell their parents brought them, before Byakuya Kuchiki appeared.

This easily led to severe consequences for Hisana; her health began to deteriorate and her body weakened. The slightest of viruses defeated her crumpled immune system. Her brother had therefore always been very protective of Hisana, knowing his wife's past and poor health.

Until this very day, Rukia had always felt terrible guilt whenever her sister fell ill. If she passed away now, especially after Rukia's last words to her...

Rukia didn't want to think about how she was going to live with it.

The woman was still staring into mid-space when the sounds of her phone ringing noisily penetrated her mind, and she jumped slightly. Rukia hesitantly sat up on her large bed, the soft mattress crinkling, and her pale, clammy hand groped for her Blackberry. She glanced at her golden clock by her bedside and her huge violet eyes widened; it was six o'clock, and it was not early. She needed to set off for work soon.

The persistent ringing of her Blackberry grasped her attention once more and she sighed, her thin legs curling over her blankets as she finally managed to grab hold of her mobile phone.

She looked down at the lit screen, and she froze.

Oh, God. Rukia had nearly forgotten her nightmare yesterday. And the worst part was that _this_ was a _real _nightmare, not something she could wake up to in the morning and try to forget about it. Not like her dreams of Hisana.

The caller ID of _Ichigo Kurosaki_ which was currently flashing on her phone screen was a reminder of that.

Memories of yesterday flooded her mind like a whirlwind of pain. How _amusing,_ that she had temporarily forgotten about it because she had been distracted by another nightmare in her life, the one involving how she might lose her beloved sister, but _no worries_, because she was now reminded on the several other momentarily forgotten agonies in her life.

Ichigo, sleeping with Inoue.

Byakuya, threatening to disown her.

Vehemently, Rukia slammed onto the "REJECT" button and tossed her phone savagely on the other side of her bed. It bounced innocently on the silk, the screen dimming now that the call was cut off.

Rukia's petite body was trembling violently, and she took sharp, wavering breaths, one of her hands clutching the edge of her Chappy embroidered night robe. The pain at the back of her head returned with a vengeance.

She had a promise to keep to Nii-sama. She wasn't supposed to go near Ichigo, not unless she wanted to be disowned. And not that she wanted to go near that orange-haired man anyway, who had been haunting her thoughts yesterday.

She was supposed to forget about him.

Which wasn't easy, now that her mobile was vibrating and ringing stubbornly again. She didn't need to peer at the screen to know that the caller ID was him again.

Rukia bit her lip. Maybe she should pick up, make it clear to the man that she wanted nothing more with him. It was the best way.

And it gave her an excuse to hear the voice she adored and hated again.

Rukia reached out with shaky fingers and held onto the vibrating metal that was her phone. She stared dimly down at the words _Ichigo Kurosaki_ gleaming on the small screen, her thumb slowly pressing onto the 'ANSWER' button

The woman pressed the phone against her ear. "What?" Her voice, which was supposed to come out as cold and indifferent just like she had trained it over the years to be, sounded hoarse and weary.

"Rukia-" Ichigo's impatient voice suddenly halted, and a second later he spoke again, only in a far gentler and calmer voice. Her heart leapt against her will. "Rukia? Are you okay? You don't… sound very good."

"What do you want?" Rukia snarled, making sure her voice radiated the hostility this time. She was sure that Ichigo was _very good_, him having slept with a very attractive woman the night before. "This is our last conversation, Ichigo, so you had better make it worth my time."

"What do you mean?" Ichigo snapped, regaining his own temper once more. "I have important things to tell you."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not interested-"

"It's about your sister," Ichigo intervened quietly. Rukia's fingers clutched her Blackberry tighter, and her lips tightened. "She could have been poisoned." Rukia's violet orbs widened. "I need you to come to the hospital now to meet me."

"No," Rukia responded sharply. "I'm not seeing you ever again. Did you not hear the news yesterday? About… us? Nii-sama misunderstood and now he doesn't want me to ever see you again."

"Like he wanted you to see me before," Ichigo retorted sarcastically. Rukia wondered if she heard a slight trace of hurt in the doctor's voice, but it was gone as soon as she thought she heard it. His tone was hard and defensive as usual. "Listen, Rukia, which matters more to you? Your sister's life, or pissing your big brother off?"

Rukia had to force herself to draw in a few more deep breaths before she answered. She couldn't let Ichigo know that she was on the verge of breaking down. "How can I trust you?" She demanded, her lips trembling and her fingers white against her phone.

"Rukia!" Ichigo snapped trenchantly. "Do I kid about a person's life? Please, at least give me that respect as a doctor."

There was a short silence. Rukia's eyelids drifted shut as she recalled her nightmares about her sister. And then she remembered _Ichigo;_ Ichigo, stuffed awkwardly with her in a wardrobe in Byakuya's room, Hisana's syringes in his pocket. Ichigo, grabbing her hand at the hotel and demanding why she hadn't turned up for her appointment in his clinic. Ichigo, being kicked in the shins when urging her to go home and rest.

"If you want, Ishida is with me," Ichigo continued, after a few silent seconds. "You can trust him at least-"

"Its fine," Rukia said quietly. "I trust you. I'll be there at the hospital in an hour."

She was about to hang up when Ichigo spoke again. His voice was gentle once more, his deep voice soft with concern. "Are you okay? You don't sound right today, Rukia."

"I'm fine," Rukia replied through clenched teeth. "How did you get my number anyway?"

"Ishida gave it to me," Ichigo said uncertainly. "You guys swapped contacts before, apparently."

"Yes, we did yesterday," Rukia answered faintly. "See you later, Ichigo."

"Rukia-" The lawyer hung up before he could continue.

She hung up, and she dropped her head in her hands, and her body shook with heartbroken sobs for the first time in ten years.

_Lalala~_

The BMW slowed down to a leisurely halt, the expensive tires rolling languidly against ragged concrete. Rukia stepped out of her the black car, slamming the door behind her.

Almost immediately, reporters swarmed towards her like enthusiastic vultures, their long coats flapping like the leathery wings. The round bulbs of microphones were rudely shoved near her face as hollers and frantic cries of inquiries were thrown to her.

"Did you sleep with that man?"

"Who is he?"

Rukia stood there noiselessly, her pencil skirt tight around her legs, and watched through aloof violet orbs as the Kuchiki bodyguards stepped forward silently, herding the paparazzi off with their bulky, powerful frames. She finally began moving towards the hospital entrance, feeling oddly detached to the almost chaotic atmosphere around her. The woman had cried everything out earlier in her own bed, and now she felt fragile- a cold, unfeeling porcelain doll on the verge of shattering onto a million pieces.

Not to mention her good friend, the time of the month, had blithely announced its entrance when she had been in her bathroom.

She pushed the vast doors open, ignoring a reporter asking the most inappropriate things about her 'sex' with the 'mysterious man'. The lawyer entered the safety of the hospital, where the paparazzi were banned in entering.

Standing before her was Ichigo.

His orange hair was still as messy and overlong as usual, some of the spikes sticking out around the back of his head, and his bangs drooping over his eyebrows. The tall doctor stood languidly with both his hands stuffed in the large pockets of his long doctor's coat, although she could clearly see his long, sinuously lean jean-clad legs. His amber eyes glowed intently as he looked at her, and she immediately felt self-conscious at the immensity at his gaze.

There was no way he could tell that she had sobbed her heart out earlier, could he? Or that she was currently experiencing a painful throb in her certain nether region thanks to her 'good friend'? Not that he would care, really. He was seeing Inoue, and she didn't need his pity as a friend.

"Hello, Ichigo," she greeted briskly, avoiding the intense golden irises fixed on her. Oh, how she prayed fervently that her brother wasn't nearby. "You were saying on the phone about my sister? Is she okay?" Genuine fear began to throb in her chest for Hisana, distracting her. "She-"

"You have something on your face," Ichigo pointed out dryly, walking towards her.

She did? And to think she had sauntered out of her car in front of millions of reporters… "What? Where?" Her fingers probed her cheek.

"Here, I'll get it for you," Ichigo said calmly, and she unconsciously felt her heart flutter madly in the bounds of her ribcage at his close proximity as he drew nearer. Her favourite musky, masculine scent shrouded her senses once more as she felt a long, slender finger rub the side of her face, his warm skin smooth against her cold flesh. She fought desperately to contain her blush, while maintaining her poker face. Only years of Kuchiki composure and her brilliant acting allowed her to pull off that act.

"Well?" She demanded coldly, once he pulled away slowly. "Did you get it?"

Ichigo looked at her stonily, his amber eyes narrowed. "I got this." He stretched out a finger, coated heavily with her foundation.

"_What?_" Rukia exclaimed furiously, her mouth pursed tightly as her hand flew up to touch her face. "How dare you smear my make-up, you jerk?"

"You and heavy make-up? That was a first for me today," Ichigo stated, still in that infuriating calm voice. His eyes were narrowed slits. "It's to hide that, isn't it?" He gestured at the small sliver of ghastly white and slightly blotchy skin revealed from beneath her layers of foundation, thanks to him.

Rukia gaped, feeling rage swirling ominously in her stomach. She shot him a malevolent glare as she pulled out her make-up kit from her handbag, her knuckles twitching angrily. "I'll get you for this, Ichigo. You had better watch out." She spat.

Ichigo watched impassively as she fixed her make-up, then suddenly reached out and grabbed her, eliciting a gasp of shock from the woman.

"What are you-" She blurted, nearly dropping her foundation tube as he crushed her to his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around her petite form. Her handbag was squashed beneath his muscly arm, but she didn't notice.

"What is wrong, Rukia?" Ichigo spoke quietly. Her face flushed as she was pressed tightly against his warmth, his scent washing over in copious amounts. She could hear his voice resonating deeply through the sleek muscles of his chest. "If you're not feeling well, you don't hide it behind make-up. You let your family and friends know." She chewed her lip. That was what Ichigo was to her. A mere friend.

His large hand lifted and gently touched the front of her scarlet forehead, resting there momentarily. "Hm, no fever. But you're freezing. _Tell me_ what's _wrong_, Rukia."

And suddenly, she almost did. She wanted to tell him everything; to pour all her troubles to him, so that he could comfort her, even if he was responsible for some of them. But this was Ichigo- who was reckless and straightforward and kind- he was someone she couldn't be with.

He broke her heart- when they weren't even together in the first place. It was so stupid.

A polite but soft cough suddenly sounded from somewhere, and Rukia's heart froze in terror- _Nii-sama!_

She hastily tore herself away from Ichigo's embrace with the strength that only fear could bring; and saw Ishida Uryuu standing some distance away from Ichigo and her, looking awkward as he straightened his glasses quickly, his neat dark hair glinting.

Relief flooded her stomach.

"Ishida," Ichigo scowled. His amber eyes flashed _This-isn't-over-yet_ at Rukia, which she plainly ignored.

"Hello there," Ishida observed dryly, walking over to the couple warily, his doctor's coat flapping. "I'm sorry for disturbing your … moment, but I was under the impression that Kuchiki-san was here about her sister."

"I am," Rukia ground out hastily. She swiftly regained her Kuchiki posture, smiling cordially at Ishida. "Thank you for having me. Ichigo said that my sister was possibly… poisoned?" Her last line came out slightly less composed, as worry seeped into her tone.

Ishida nodded grimly, his features soberly earnest. "We found a poisonous substance in the syringes which were used for Mrs Kuchiki's injections."

Rukia's oval face tightened, her violet eyes as wide as saucers. "What is this? Are you saying someone _deliberately_ poisoned my sister?"

"It is very possible," Ichigo finally spoke, his voice deep and serious. He glanced at Rukia, his gaze inscrutable. "Not one syringe- but all of the few syringes we obtained contained this poison. This means that…"

"She was injected this poison more than once," Rukia exhaled gustily, her insides knotting painfully. She clutched her handbag tightly, her manicured nails digging into the expensive leather. "This is ridiculous. My sister is the sweetest thing on the earth; why would anyone want to hurt her? She has no enemies. "

"This is definitely a problem that needs addressing," Ishida agreed gravely, his glasses glinting severely. "We understand the one in charge of your sister's injections was Miss Senna?"

Rukia's face twisted with horror as comprehension dawned. She took a step back, her feet trembling. "You're saying _Senna_ poisoned her? That's … Senna has been working for us for ten years!"

"Ten years?" Ichigo cut in sharply. Ishida narrowed his thin eyes. "You're positive she joined your household ten years ago?"

"Yes," Rukia answered vaguely, her mind spinning. Could Senna have deliberately tried to harm Hisana? Anger burned in her gut. Hisana had taken in the girl and had treated her kindly throughout the decade. How could anyone be so ungrateful? But she had no proof. There was a chance Senna _could_ had been set up; the docile girl never seemed to display any antagonism towards Hisana.

What would Ichigo feel knowing his ex was possibly a murderer though? She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, and flinched inwardly as she saw the look of consternation on his features.

So he still cared.

Not that it mattered. If Senna had hurt Hisana in any way, Rukia would never let her off. _Never._

"We need to tell Nii-sama this," Rukia announced determinedly. She stared at the two men before her. "He needs to know this. Do you still have samples of this poison you found? This way you can prove to him about this." It didn't matter what Nii-sama thought about Ichigo now; this was too important and she knew Nii-sama would more than understand, especially where it concerned his wife.

"Of course," Ichigo replied calmly. He exchanged heavy glances with Ishida, and nodded at Rukia. "Come with us."

Ten minutes later, the trio were walking down a long corridor. Nurses carrying clipboards passed them, nodding respectfully at the small group. They trooped along the smooth beige granite floors, before stopping before a door.

Ichigo fished out a key, and unlocked the door with a soft click. He pushed it open, and went in through the large doorway, followed by the rest. The doctors switched on the lights, illuminating the originally dim room, and Rukia stood helplessly as she watched them browse through a shelf of test-tubes along the test tube racks and other contraptions she didn't get. Alcohol smelled strongly in the air.

"What's this?" Ichigo abruptly snapped after a few seconds, his low voice echoing off the room. His hands rummaged through the test tube racks. "_Where is it_?"

"What do you mean?" Rukia demanded, rushing towards him.

"The samples of the poison are not here, Kuchiki-san," Ishida stated grimly, straightening up and looking into the petite woman's eyes. "Someone took it while we were gone, and if they're smart, possibly destroyed it. Someone behind this poison, I'm assuming."

"Gin Ichimaru," Ichigo spat, his amber orbs burning along the twisted, attractive features of his sharp face. "It's definitely him." His head whipped around, orange locks waving, when Rukia suddenly ran out of the room, her heels clattering. "Rukia? Rukia!"

The doctor dashed out of the small room as well, his long, lean legs moving smoothly as his coat billowed behind him. Ishida stayed where he was, his hand pressed on his head.

_How did things come to this_? He wondered morosely, his lips taut.

"Rukia!" Ichigo called loudly, hot on Rukia's heels as she sped down the hallway.

He easily caught up to her and grabbed her thin arm. She looked away, but he could easily feel the trembling iciness of her arm and how her whole body shook.

"Rukia," he said again, gently, tenderly. His other hand reached out for her face, which seemed so small and delicate that it would be more than easy for him to snap it apart with his mere fingers. "Come back with me. We'll solve this, I promise. I won't leave you alone in this."

Rukia turned at last and looked at him, her violet eyes wet, and Ichigo watched in horror as they abruptly rolled back beneath fluttering eyelids. Her head lolled limply as her legs gave way.

Ichigo let out a raw cry of utter pain and heartbreak as he caught her crumpled body.

"_Rukia!"_

Rukia Kuchiki had passed out.

_Lalala~_

The hospital room was peacefully silent aside from the beeping of the heart monitor and the scratching of pen against paper.

Kuchiki Byakuya calmly put down his expensive ballpoint pen, and set the papers neatly to one side on the table, checking his work one last time before looking at his comatose wife.

There was no change. Hisana lay beneath the thick layer of sheets, so thickly piled above her that the shape of her form was almost invisible. Her head lay draped on the silk pillows, her eyes closed serenely.

She almost would have appeared to be sleeping if not for the numerous tubes protruding out of her arms.

Byakuya gently caressed her cheek, his thumb stroking the soft, silky iciness. His long, slender finger dipped down to brush the corner of her white lip, before rising again to tenderly caress her eyelids.

He finally straightened up and glanced stolidly at the colourful flowers situated all around the room; get-well gifts from other celebrities all over the world. Just yesterday, after Renji had left, the President of Japan had visited the hospital and given his kind condolences, before sweeping away to the next venue of his busy, designated schedule. The reporters had gone wild outside.

To Byakuya Kuchiki, there was no need for condolences. His wife was going to recover, and he would make sure of that.

The man rose gracefully from his seat, his trench coat rippling elegantly, as he made his way to certain flowers sitting innocently by the window ledge, the sun's rays lighting up the petals.

They were from Isshin Kurosaki.

Byakuya lifted the small card from the side of the daisies, and opened it. On the pink paper was scrawled in blue ink:

_May the missus get well soon! Don't think there's nothing you can do- being her family and being there for her; that is everything! _

Byakuya stared inscrutably at the card for a while, his slanted grey eyes emotionless. The tall man lowered the small piece of paper, before placing it back carefully to its original place beside the daisies.

Daisies. Byakuya looked impassively at the dancing white petals for a while.

Masaki Kurosaki had loved them back when she was alive.

The lawyer finally turned back to his slumbering wife, and his steely eyes narrowed.

There was something different about the beeping of the heart monitor. It was, ever so slightly, slower. The change was so minute and imperceptible that only one with exceptional hearing could detect it; not to mention Byakuya had spent so much time here with his wife that he had grown accustomed to the monotone droning of her heartbeat.

Byakuya placed his large palm tenderly on her icy forehead, and then drew her hand out from below the blanket and brought it to his lips, tracing the small sprinkle of veins protruding from her taut white skin.

He let her appendage linger on his lips for more than necessarily, before lowering it, clasping it tightly in his own hand.

With his other free hand, Byakuya pressed a small button located at the side of Hisana's vast bed.

Less than a few minutes later, the door opened, and a nurse bustled into the tranquil room, followed by a famous haematologist which Byakuya had sent for from England a few days ago.

Dr Baker swiftly made his way to Hisana's bedside, and bowed politely to Byakuya, his stethoscope drooping slightly from the folds of his white coat. He was a man of medium height and was properly built, with messy brown hair and a small smile.

''Mr Kuchiki,'' he intoned cordially, ''Please move to one side so we may examine Mrs Kuchiki.''

Byakuya stood unmoving for a while, Hisana's hand snugly resting in his own, before nodding in silent assent. He laid her tiny hand down gently before moving elegantly to a corner of the room, his shoes sliding smoothly against the floor.

Dr Baker drew the long, blue curtain smoothly around his patient's bed, obscuring Byakuya's view, and a few tense minutes passed by quietly as Dr Baker and his nurse worked on Hisana from behind the curtain. Byakuya stood impassively, the light from the ceiling reflecting his slate grey eyes to a gleam of dark purple.

The curtain finally shifted, the blue fabric crinkling as the nurse pulled it to one side away from the bed, clipboard tucked under her arm. Baker pocketed his stethoscope and straightened up from where he was originally leaning over Hisana's motionless figure. The fresh scent of antiseptic stung the cold air.

''My wife?'' Byakuya questioned, striding over to the doctor, his silky dark hair rippling behind him.

Baker took the clipboard from the nurse's hands, his hands already free of his freshly disposed rubber gloves. The man turned to his employer ceremoniously, a polite but fixed smile on his face. "I understand that Mrs Kuchiki has faced health problems for some time, and not just now?"

"Indeed," Byakuya responded curtly, glancing at Hisana. He lowered his hand and gently brushed her dark hair with his long, adroit fingers. "My wife has never been the strongest. Throughout our married life I have always ensured that her diet and activities were closely monitored."

Baker shook his head regretfully. "I don't get it. Her condition was utterly stable before. But now…" he looked at Byakuya through sad blue eyes. "It's worsened. Her blood count's dropping again. She was fine yesterday. If this gets any worse, Mr Kuchiki…" The doctor exchanged glances with his nurse, before meeting Byakuya's stone-cold gaze once more. "I can't save Mrs Kuchiki."

"Dr Baker," Byakuya answered calmly. "Treat my wife. I do not care what the costs are; I will pay them all. Treat her and cure her. That is all I have to say. You are dismissed."

Dr Baker lowered his head, a small smile playing on his lips. It seemed Kuchiki Byakuya truly did not bow his head to anything. "Understood. We will return every hour to check on Mrs Kuchiki."

The doctor dipped his head before retreating out of the room with his nurse. Their footsteps still reverberated echoingly even after the door had closed.

Byakuya descended gracefully onto the chair, his head leaning forward to press a tender kiss on Hisana's cold forehead, the glossy strands of his dark hair pooling on her hollow cheeks. She slept on.

He would not allow her to leave him.

And everyone knew Byakuya's word was law.

_Lalala~_

Rukia felt pain pulsating through the back of her head like a crazed sledgehammer at work, intense in carving a hole at the back of her skull. She tried her best to ignore it and sink back into the ecstatic dull of sleep, but it was no use. The sledgehammer thundered persistently, pulling her out of unconsciousness.

Her eyelids stirred erratically, her eyelashes fanning her pale skin. Light peeked annoyingly between her eyelashes and she groaned slightly as she opened her eyes drowsily. She could feel soothing warmth around her hands.

The lawyer stared blearily as the image of a very, very attractive man sat before her on a chair, his large, sun-kissed hands grasping her tiny ones tightly. The orange-haired man reminded her somewhat of a panther; his lengthy, sinewy figure sprawled out on the chair, a white coat draped over his taut body. She could just make out the tanned chiselled muscles on his chest from where the opening of his tight shirt revealed, and simply stared at it before looking up into a pair of ardent golden eyes. Long orange locks framed the eyes like silky curtains.

What a blessedly good-looking man.

Rukia sighed, ignoring the pain in her head, and rolled slightly against what felt like a mattress. Was she in a hospital room? She could make the blinding white walls around her, and she felt a sudden surge of hatred ripple through her being. How she hated those familiar white walls. These walls of the hospital, which currently encased where her sister laid.

And then, right out of the blue, all her memories came flooding back savagely into her throbbing head.

Her gaze flickered back to the orange-haired man with a sinking horror.

_Oh my…_

She sprang up from her lying position on her bed, gaping, only to be held down by strong hands which had been originally clutching her own hands in a warm grasp.

She recalled feeling remarkably dizzy before Ichigo back at the hospital hallway. She recalled him calling her and holding her with those gentle arms as she fell into a dark, never ending abyss…

The same gentle arms which were currently pinning her down now.

"Let go, Ichigo," Rukia gasped, feeling the same pain pulsate intently in her head. She glared into his narrowed amber eyes as he stood over her, his large, calloused hands pinning her arms onto the bed. She was helpless in his powerful grip.

_Their position looked so wrong._

"I'll be sure to let go when you stop struggling," Ichigo responded flatly, staring back steadily at her venomous look. "You will lie back down obediently if you know what's good for you."

Rukia stilled at last, seeing the futility of it all. She sure didn't have the strength to fight against him even if she was healthy, let alone now. The lawyer still couldn't believe that of all places, she had fainted in a hospital. The fact that she fainted was more embarrassing than anything; Rukia Kuchiki _didn't_ faint. She prayed that the reporters wouldn't get wind of this.

And lastly of all her humiliation: Ichigo.

She made sure to avoid looking at him; the woman hadn't missed the flat, intent and almost angry look on his face. Rukia couldn't fathom what he was feeling right now- all she knew was that she had fainted in front of a man whom she had always maintained a strong front. Was he ridiculing her mentally now; at this girl who was so pathetic and weak and… had feelings for him? Not to mention he already had his own lover, he wouldn't care for her that way ever, and Rukia felt like a stupid simpering girl before him who couldn't even walk without fainting.

The humiliation was so bitter that Rukia almost bit her tongue in anger and shame.

But she didn't. She simply stared at the fluffy side of her pillow, avoiding Ichigo's gaze which she could feel burning into her skin.

"Look at me," his husky voice suddenly intoned right before her ear. He was so close that she could feel his hot breath grazing the side of her neck; goose bumps erupted on her skin and she suppressed a shudder.

Rukia felt a sudden stab of anger well up within her chest; how dare he play with her? Who was he to sound so commanding? He had no right over her; she was a free woman and he was a man who was already taken by Inoue Orihime, yet he was drawing himself so…. close towards her.

"Get away from me," she finally snapped, rasping slightly. Her throat felt itchy and dry.

She sensed his warmth fade as he suddenly moved away and Rukia felt a mixture of disappointment and relief. Her eyes widened however, when a plastic cup of water was presented to her face.

"Drink," Ichigo ordered, holding the cup, and her thirstiness overwhelmed her defiance immediately. She took the cup with shaky hands and gulped down the cold water, savouring the iciness licking her parched throat, and made sure that no droplets of water leaked onto her chin from her lying position against the pillows.

"Thanks," Rukia finally choked out as she lowered the cup, her thirst quenched for now. The plastic cup crinkled as Ichigo took it from her; she flinched when his warm fingers brushed against her own.

She watched in silent astonishment as Ichigo filled the cup once more from a kettle, before passing it to her again. "Drink."

"I already-"

"Drink." His voice was commanding and strict; it left no room for argument. She'd never seen this side to him before, but she was simply too tired to complain.

She drank.

A few seconds later, she swallowed the last drop before looking up and glaring at him. "Are we done?"

He nodded, looking satisfied, and she passed the cup to him quietly, feeling slight discomfort prickle in her stomach.

"How do you feel?" Ichigo asked quietly, his gaze unfathomable as he looked at her. She didn't like this Ichigo. She couldn't read him at all and he was calm and yet at the same time filled with so much intensity she couldn't even begin to predict.

"Perfect," Rukia replied crisply. Two could play this game. "So now you could let me out of this hospital room, and-"

"I'm afraid not," Ichigo answered coolly. She swallowed slowly as his hand captured her fingers gently, a contrast to the frigidity of his voice. "You're not going anywhere, Missy."

"And who are you to stop me?" Rukia demanded, violet eyes burning. "I admit I didn't feel well before, but I'm great now. You have no right to stop me."

Ichigo chuckled darkly, his lips lifting slightly. "Go ahead and try to escape then, Miss Kuchiki." His hand tightened on hers, and she felt so tiny and small in his grasp.

"_Stop this!"_ Rukia finally shouted, one of her tiny fists battering powerlessly on his hard chest. He raised an eyebrow, not moving. "Stop… being like this! You're supposed to be Ichigo!" His eyebrow arched higher and she knew she sounded stupid, but ploughed on anyway. "You're supposed to be… wild and swearing at me and calling me names like midget and… being mean! Not like this!" She gestured at his calm figure, her chest heaving emotionally.

A silence greeted her outburst, and she chewed on the inside of her cheek. Oh, hell. Why had she started yelling like that? She felt really dumb now. She stole a glance at Ichigo and immediately flinched back when she saw him staring intently at her.

She felt a little uneasy with this Ichigo. He was unpredictable, not the one she grew to know. Had he always been like this and she simply hadn't-

"Aahm!" Rukia let out a muffled cry of shock when Ichigo suddenly pounced –_pounced_- onto her body with the kind of incredible speed and suddenness that she had only seen at her office with Renji. Only he wasn't attacking her, his hands cupped her face gently but firmly as his body weight lightly pinned her down. She knew he wasn't letting his whole weight fall on her, but the fact that his long body was on top of hers was driving her insane.

With want.

His masculine, musky scent was clouding her mind, keeping her from thinking straight, and she nearly fainted again as his face loomed right in front of hers, the silky waves of his hair brushing her face. Everything about her sister and the poison flew out of her mind. She peered into his piercing golden orbs, thinking, _Ichigo, Ichigo, Ichigo…_

"Rukia," he murmured softly, and she squeaked in a rather unladylike way as he drew nearer, his hard hips pressing against her tummy. She didn't even need to think to know that her skirt had probably been pushed up her thighs again. His white coat draped and pooled over them like a second blanket. "You have driven my patience to no end… now just what should I do with you?" His eyes gazed intently at her red face. "I've been thinking this for a good while, and now I'm seriously considering it…" Rukia gasped sharply, her dark hair dishevelled and scattered wildly around her small face, when he suddenly pressed his lips on her earlobe, hot mouth fiddling with her stud earring. _"Should I chain you up and take you somewhere far, far away with me where I can properly protect you?"_

_Lalala~_

Outside the room door, Senna fumed into the small window, her teeth clenched so tightly that they nearly cracked. She wanted to kill Rukia Kuchiki. Yes, yes, she was going to destroy that girl for seducing Ichigo.

But there were other ways besides physical violence.

Senna fished out her mobile, smirking to herself. She switched the screen to camera mode, before positioning it before the window where it perfectly captured the scene of Ichigo as he lay crouched over Rukia on the bed, lips on her ear.

The girl hummed cheerily under her breath, wondering just how Kuchiki Byakuya would react when he saw the many photos she was about to take.

**I'm late in updating- I know. Sorry, guys, but it hasn't been a month right? In any case, thanks for all you guys' reviews so far! This story is nothing without all of your support, and I can never stop thanking you guys for that! **

**I hope you didn't find this chapter too disappointing because it wasn't very easy to write. I have a feeling some of you may say Byakuya was too harsh with Rukia, but I think canonically Byakuya is rather a harsh character. Still, you guys' opinions would be great as feedback for me to better improve my writing. Til' next time, and please review!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.**

Rukia swore that she was going crazy, even for someone like her.

Could anyone not be? There was an extremely good-looking and attractive guy on top of you, making out with your ear and talking about chaining you up. Even if it was just an ear, but still.

She was _sinking_, sinking headfirst into a sensual haze of rapture where nothing else existed except for the thick masculine, spicy scent swirling around her in potent waves and the beautiful vibrant orange locks and ardent golden eyes and the very hot mouth on her flesh…

Yet there was a small part to her which was ringing warningly- a damper to her currently euphoric state. She wanted to swipe it away, but she couldn't- it was her Kuchiki side. A side that had been ingrained into her; a side that she had lived by for a decade. A side that her brother had brought up in her, with his steely, cold grey eyes and unforgiving demeanor…

She gasped, suddenly surfacing almost cruelly from the haze of euphoria.

What was she _doing?_ Had she forgotten her promise to her brother? Did she want to be disowned?

"Let go of me, Ichigo Kurosaki," Rukia choked out angrily, suppressing a shudder as his tongue flicked out and hotly grazed the soft skin of her ear. Arousal stirred in her insides, but she forced it away. What was Ichigo doing? Did he truly think that after making his moves on Inoue and Senna, she would be the same and submit to him? Rukia did not care for playboys. And it really sucked, that such a decent person like Ichigo turned out to be one. Not that it mattered. She had to fight against him.

Even if it ripped her heart apart.

"What if I don't want to?" He spoke then, his deep voice resonating sultrily against her skin and sending shivers along her sensitive nerves. His voice sounded different; there was huskiness to it accompanied by something almost… guttural.

Rukia shivered again.

It was time she did something quickly before she lost control again. The lawyer pulled her arm from underneath his lengthy, hard and warm frame, her dainty fingers wriggling for freedom. She then proceeded to do what she always did; she reached out and pinched his own ear hard, twisting it painfully.

Instead of yelping and pulling back as she had expected him to do, he drew even closer and she nearly yelped herself when his ivory teeth closed over the small doughy flesh on her earlobe.

"S… stop!" She gasped, her fingers tightening on his own ear, struggling to twist it as hard as she could, anything to get him off her and cease this delicious torture on her.

"My, my," Ichigo purred. She nearly cried out again when his teeth shifted along her flesh as he spoke, leaving along a trail of fire. "I had no idea we both had ear fetishes, hm?"

Who _was _this guy? Rukia thought desperately. Ichigo, talking sick talk? And the worst part was the flare of arousal it brought her. She was _enjoying_ it.

"Please stop this," she begged, half to herself. Her voice was shaky and uneven, and it cracked with a mixture of arousal and desperation. It rose to a higher pitch as her emotions grew. "_I don't want to be the Other Woman!"_

That got his attention. He stopped abruptly, his mouth leaving her ear. Her skin suddenly felt cold and neglected without his ministrations, and she cursed herself for even feeling that way. For this, and the fact that she had blurted out something she wasn't supposed to say. Ever.

"What did you say?" He demanded, looking down at her pink face. The doctor was still pinning her down effortlessly, but at least he had straightened up slightly, his face a respectable distance from her own. That wasn't to say he wasn't intimidating. He was.

"Nothing, alright?" She snapped, trying not to ogle at his disheveled orange locks, which framed his eyes messily. "If anything, _you_ should explain what you just did to me."

Rukia wondered why all the men in her life seemed to enjoy toying with her. First Kaien, and now Ichigo with his many women. Only Renji had never treated her as a plaything, but she simply didn't have feelings for him that way.

"I thought it was pretty obvious what I did," Ichigo stated bluntly. He leaned down towards her, a small smile on his lips. She blushed. His amber eyes flickered approvingly to her very red and swollen earlobe, her ear stud hanging loosely from her earhole. Then he looked at her. "What were you saying about being the Other Woman, midget?"

Great. Now he chose to be himself, Rukia thought dryly. Not to mention she couldn't believe the nerve of him to pretend he didn't know what she was saying when he had clearly been making out with Inoue when she'd called yesterday. Her pride had been severely injured back then. It still was.

It was time for some confrontations, she finally decided. She was sick of secrets. And with Ichigo and his way of always becoming tight-lipped, he was all about secrets. It was the main reason why she had been so hurt with him recently, after all. "Tell me, Ichigo, do you always do this?" She asked coolly, trying to sound as unfazed as she could for someone who was being pinned down. "Sleep with a woman one night, and then make your moves onto another on the next day?"

Bewilderment crossed his features. "What are you talking about?"

"Gosh, Ichigo," Rukia retorted witheringly. "I know you love your secrets, but this time it's going a little too far, don't you think?" Despite her scathing tone, Rukia was feeling a little perturbed. The confusion on his face seemed too genuine somehow. While she had to admit she didn't know much about Ichigo, she did believe in one thing- he didn't like lying. If he had something to hide (and there was a lot of that), he most likely wouldn't make up stuff. He'd just look apologetic and well, not tell her. That, Rukia supposed reluctantly, was slightly better than lying.

But what was he always hiding from her? Did he not trust her?

"Rukia, if you don't explain yourself," Ichigo said exasperatedly, "then I won't know what you're talking about." His large hand tightened on her small arm, and she tried to ignore the fact that his calloused thumb was stroking her soft skin almost unconsciously. Tried to ignore the fact that she liked it.

"Yesterday," she ground out. Oh God, why? She'd only met him for a few days, and yet her life was spinning out of control like it never had before. "You were with Inoue Orihime, weren't you?"

Ichigo looked surprised, his amber eyes widening. "How did you know? And yeah, I was."

God, was he really playing dumb? Rukia decided to press things until she reached her point. "_How did I know? _Because I called you, and she picked up! Don't you bloody remember?" She snapped.

If Ichigo had looked surprised before, it was nothing compared to the look on his face now. "You _called?_"

Okay, something was really weird now. He seemed to have no idea that she had called. However… it could be that he had been so engrossed in making out with Inoue that he simply hadn't registered her phone call. Which was Inoue had picked up the phone while he was… busy. Her stomach hurt suddenly.

"Yes, I did," she replied crisply, her gaze frosting over. "I wanted to talk to you. Look, it's not important, okay? All I want to point out to you is that I refuse to be the third party."

But Ichigo wasn't listening. He was thinking to himself, and his lips parted as he mused. "It must have been when I went to buy lunch," he murmured. His gaze flickered over to Rukia. "What did Inoue say? She didn't tell me you called."

"So you're saying you were away when she picked up the call?" Rukia demanded incredulously. "No, that can't be." She shook her head disbelievingly against the pillow. "You guys… were heading to a hotel, right?" The woman had to struggle to keep her voice steady and unaffected.

There was a shocked pause, and then to Rukia's deepest, deepest chagrin, a knowing smile suddenly curved his lips. "So that's what it's all about, huh? All this Other Woman crap." He burst out laughing, his deep voice rumbling, and she scowled, feeling anger boil in her veins. What was going on? Was he making fun of her?

He must have noticed the affronted expression on her face, for he laughed again before drawing himself closer to her, the small smile playing on his lips. She flinched, breathing in his scent, glaring at him to hide her discomfort.

"Rukia," he whispered, white teeth flashing as amused amber peering into vicious violet, "Are you _jealous?_"

"No!" Rukia spat venomously, refusing to believe this. She would not let him toy with her. "You can do whatever you want! Didn't you _hear _me? After what you did just now, I just don't want to be the third party here." Her violet orbs glowered angrily as she tried to conceal her embarrassment, because she knew he _had_ spoken the truth.

"What third party?" Another deep chuckle escaped his lips. His amber eyes danced with amusement. She wanted badly to just sit up and sock him right then. "Rukia. When Inoue said we were heading to a hotel, it isn't what you're thinking. I was just dropping her off there to stay with my sisters."

That line. That single line was like a lifesaver. All that intense hurt and pain seemed to waver. "Your- your sisters stay in a hotel?" Rukia stuttered, her heart leaping quickly. Was it true? Had she been mistaken all along? A large flood of relief threatened to pour into her body, and right now the only thing stopping it from doing so was her disbelief. "But I swore I heard…" _A squeal of sensual pleasure from Inoue_, was what she wanted to say, but this was just too embarrassing. Even if she might or might not had emitted the same noise just now.

"Heard what?" Ichigo looked at her quizzically, his eyebrows rising.

Rukia was sure she hadn't imagined the noise she'd heard from Inoue. And the way Inoue had said those things had been in a really… suggestive way.

Rukia Kuchiki was no fool. This whole misunderstanding had not been a coincidence.

Orihime Inoue had tried to trick her.

And the only plausible reason for her to do so was something she didn't want to think about.

"It's nothing," she replied quietly. She knew Ichigo was telling the truth. He wouldn't lie… not unless it was something really serious. He really didn't know anything.

"There's nothing between me and Inoue, if that's what you're thinking," Ichigo spoke, some of the amusement still on his face, although he sounded more serious now. "I admit she was a bit tactless for not explaining properly, but she's just like a sibling."

_Maybe to you,_ Rukia snapped silently, _but how about to her? Have you even considered that?_

She peered at him suspiciously, trying to sit up despite his weight pinning her down. "So you're not a crazy playboy who makes moves on all women?"

Ichigo didn't look too amused now, and he certainly wasn't budging either. "Is that what you think of me?"

"How would I know?" Rukia retorted icily. She pressed her hands against his chest. "Yesterday I thought you were seeing Inoue Orihime and today you… to me…" Her voice trailed off as a blush threatened to flood her pale cheeks.

"I do have self-respect, you know," Ichigo replied calmly, his amber eyes gleaming almost emotionally. "If I make a move on a woman, then it's because I mean it." His eyes seemed to penetrate her soul, the molten gold piercing. She swallowed. "You know what that means don't you?"

There was a short pause as she refused to answer him, her pulse racing.

"I think you do," Ichigo continued quietly, although a streak of arrogant satisfaction showed in his face. "You seemed rather jealous about Inoue."

That got her talking. "Listen, Ichigo, if there's one thing I hate, it's degrading myself! I am Rukia Kuchiki! I do not need to be anyone's Other Woman, and for a while I thought I was! I have self-respect too, for your information." She glared at him, her lips pursed. Her temples throbbed suddenly, and she winced. Her headache, temporarily forgotten due to him, was back.

Ichigo seemed to notice it, and he suddenly got off her, the mattress heaving and cold air rushed over her body like an icy blanket. She watched oddly as he went off to some shelves by the side of the room, coat flapping. The woman slowly sat up, groaning slightly, straightening her crumpled skirt, her other hand finger-brushing her hair quickly. God, she looked a mess. Her handbag sat neatly tucked on a table nearby.

"Here."

She glanced up to see him holding the same plastic cup of water, with aspirin in his other hand. "Thanks," Rukia said uncertainly, feeling awkward at the sudden shift of conversation and atmosphere. After all, he _had_ made something like a confession to her. Her heart was pounding, but she still wasn't sure she could let herself be too carried away. And _he_ knew- suspected anyway- that she liked him.

Everything was so confusing, dammit! And she had thought Kaien had been a good lesson. Apparently not.

He sat down on the chair by her bed, lean form relaxing slightly, and looked intently at her as she popped the painkiller into her mouth. He didn't even bother to hide the fact that he was watching her.

"Why did I pass out anyway?" Rukia asked, swallowing. "It's nothing serious right? I need to work soon."

Ichigo gave her a hard look. "You're still talking about working?" He shook his head in disapproval, his expression flat. "You fainted from stress and exhaustion, Rukia. It might not be too serious now, but it'll get worse if you continue the lifestyle you have now."

Oh great. Now he thought she couldn't cope with pressure and stress. Way to go, Kuchiki Rukia.

Before she could make a defensive remark, he spoke again, his voice hard and collected. "Do I repulse you?"

She stared at him in shock, her mouth wide open. She had heard that question before, and she remembered. Back then when they had been holed up in Hisana's wardrobe, he had muttered the same thing, more to himself than to her.

How could he think that way? He had no idea how much she had grown to love him, despite it being against her will? Still, with her scathing treatment of him, it was no surprise he felt that way. Her guts churned with guilt.

"Of course not!" Rukia replied heatedly, slamming the now empty plastic cup on the table. "I'm not so cold-blooded that I haven't seen what you've done for me so far, strawberry!" He looked surprised at her suddenly emotional state, his features creasing with astonishment. "The truth is, Ichigo," she continued thickly, her voice catching at her throat.

God, she was so sick of all these secrets and mysteries. And right now, with all the tension that was steadily building up between her and Ichigo, the painful feeling in her chest only grew like a ball of thorns jarring her ribs. She was sick of lying to herself, sick of the hurt and pain with Ichigo, and above all, sick of his secrecy and all that crap he was hiding from her. She needed… she needed something _honest _between whatever screwed up relationship they shared. Where did they stand now? Enemies? Friends? His love toy? The status of their relationship had never been clear from the start, and right now the vague lines were already blurring more than ever. What she did know, however, was that she was clear on her own feelings towards him. Always had been, but her self-denial had been messing everything up.

Rukia took a deep breath, and succumbed herself to the woman she had become ever since his arrival in her life. The same girl she was ten years ago, the girl who had laughed and smiled and hurt and _cried._

"I love you," she said calmly.

She'd said it, and she didn't regret it. There were some things in life that had to be expressed to the people you cared about before it was too late, and she'd learned that from what happed to Hisana. It didn't matter whether Ichigo loved her back or if he had only been playing with her from all that making out with her ear and stuff.

Because love was about giving, not taking. Just like what her sister had done for her back in the slums without asking for anything in return. Just like her brother, supporting and protecting Hisana despite the Kuchiki family's outrage at their wedding.

And even if Ichigo didn't feel for her that way, everything he'd done for her and her sister had been an act of giving.

"I know it's only been a few days," Rukia went on, "But what you've done to me within this span of time, it's just… not something I can describe. You've made me really mad, Ichigo." She let out a dry chuckle, still not looking at his face. "And when I say mad, I don't just mean angry. Every time I'm with you, my sanity hasn't been all that intact. I'm not sure if it's a good thing, and maybe it only shows I'm really crazy, but I actually enjoyed it. I still do. And while I know you're hiding stuff from me," she cut him off as a noise of protest crossed his lips, "…which I am not okay with, I do respect what you've done for me. More than respect."

She finally stopped talking, her breaths drifting out of her mouths rather quickly. There. She'd done it. Telling the truth had taken a whole load off her chest, and while she was still very wary about his reaction, she couldn't help but feel more relaxed.

Her eyes widened when a large hand suddenly lifted her chin, bringing her to face him squarely.

"Rukia," he said huskily, his thick lashes pooling against the glowing golden of his eyes, "You have no idea how much what you said means to me."

And he kissed her.

They kissed, really, since she was very actively kissing him back without the slightest bit of resistance.

Lips molded against lips, and warmth blossomed against warmth. He was kissing her vigorously, and not too gently either, which she liked. His hands ran through her hair possessively, and she shuddered delightedly at the feel of his warm, soft lips. Lips so soft they were a contradiction to the sharpness and gruffness of his personality, lips moving so sensually against hers. They seemed to send a million jolts of electricity running through her body, and it was so, so different from Renji. Because this wasn't physical gratification.

And after she heard her name being spoken in his passion-roughed voice, she thought she'd faint again. But this time, she'd faint happy. Not to mention her headache was definitely gone too.

They finally broke apart, their chests heaving. He was holding her to him, her petite frame in his arms.

"Ichigo," she gasped, "I'm not done talking. I need to tell you…" Her swollen lip quivered as she met his ardent expression, "we can't be together."

"What do you mean?" he demanded, pressing her tightly against him. "You just said that you loved me."

"I do," Rukia answered softly, tracing the outline of his hard chest over his shirt with her fingers. Her hand gently rubbed against the tanned muscles. How long had she dreamed of doing this? And soon it would only be a dream again, because she knew… "But my brother would never allow us together. And my sister… someone's poisoning her." Her voice caught at the word _poisoning_. "There's so much going on. How can we be together under all these insane circumstances?"

"I agree things aren't the best for us now," Ichigo replied tightly, his lips grazing the top of her head. His hands stroked her spine gently, and she shivered at the warm caress. "But let's face it, Rukia, we're not exactly the typical romantic couple in the first place. If I'm not wrong, we were sitting in your sister's wardrobe a few days ago, hiding from your brother."

Rukia laughed. "You're the idiot between us." It felt so good, not to pretend anymore around him.

Ichigo kissed the side of her head. "What I'm saying, _midget,_ is that I'll wait. When all the issues are resolved and when your sister's case is settled, then… " His arms tightened around her as he dropped a kiss on her lips. Her mouth tingled wildly as his heat seared its entrance. Then he pulled away, before tenderly taking her hands in his. "There'll be a lot more of this. What do you say?"

Rukia smiled faintly, still recovering from the very awesome kissing skills of Ichigo Kurosaki. "You make very tempting deals, strawberry. So tempting… I might say yes." She flashed a grin at the one sliver of amazingness that she could now look up to, what with her screwed-up life. Suddenly Byakuya's threats seemed to be very vague and unimportant. After all, was this what her brother had felt when he held Hisana, the beliefs and family rules that he had religiously followed forgotten?

Their fingers entwined together, milky white against dark brown. "But how are we going to solve my sister's case?" Her voice became worried. "You can't make an antidote, can you, without the sample of the poison?"

"No, I can't," Ichigo agreed, frowning. "_But_… I can if I have her blood sample. There're definitely traces of the poison in it, faint as it is. Whoever made the poison is definitely someone very talented."

"Her blood samples are kept in a locked room," Rukia said, biting her already love-swollen lip contemplatively. She shifted slightly, slender stocking-clad legs moving against the bed. "It's confidential. I could ask for it…"

"Yes, and only the doctor in charge of Hisana-san's case can accompany you and unlock the door," Ichigo chimed in bitterly. "And I'm not that doctor, unfortunately."

There was a pause. "Then the only solution I can come up with is breaking into Gin Ichimaru's room to get the keys," Rukia replied determinedly. She glanced at him, her violet eyes glowing with emotion against her fair complexion. "I won't force you to come with me to do it, don't worry."

Ichigo grinned, white teeth glinting. "Something illegal? And Rukia Kuchiki wanting to do it?"

"Shut up!" She whacked his shoulder. "My sister needs me. I can't just lie back and do nothing anymore. If I'm going to go against my brother's wishes by being with you, then I might as well go all the way."

"Hm, that sounds rather good," Ichigo commented musingly, his golden eyes gleaming almost predatorily from his large, potent form. "When do we start? We have a bed here already, and-"

"Not that way, pervert! And we're not supposed to be doing anything outside of friendship until things blow over, remember? The whole public already thinks we're having sex!" Rukia stared daggers at him, although the hostility was completely wasted due to the fact that her face seemed to be on fire.

She still couldn't believe Ichigo would find her sexually attractive.

Then he laughed, and she dumbly marveled at the glorious, rich sound that escaped his lips. "I was just joking, Rukia," he said, ruffling her dark hair affectionately, ignoring her as she ducked indignantly. "We can take our time at this, right?"

So much for that.

His gaze turned serious. "In any case, I'll definitely be accompanying you on our little trip to Dr Ichimaru's office. This isn't going to be child's play."

She nodded, looking down at the bed and their entwined hands. "I'm sorry, Ichigo, for dragging you into this."

"How ridiculous," he breathed, leaning closely to her. He had moved so suddenly that she nearly jumped. "Everything about you is about me. Besides…" he suddenly trailed off, but not before she saw the flash of deep sorrow appear in his features.

It shocked her. There was no way she could had missed the raw look of utter pain and sadness in his gold eyes. It had been so… _heartbreaking_, that she was sure even an outsider who had witnessed the emotion playing on his face would be moved as well.

"What's wrong?" She whispered softly, her fingers pressing persuasively into his skin. He pulled his hands away slightly, but she tugged at them insistently, not letting him go. An exasperated expression fell on his perfect features, but she shot him a look heated with emotion and anger. "Not another secret, Ichigo! Let me tell you this, if you want me in your life, then I'm going to be in every _inch_ of your life! And that includes your secrets!"

A small smile flickered on his lips, the exasperation giving way to something akin to resignation. Yet at the same time, she did not miss the vague flare of pleasure in his eyes. "Honestly, Rukia," he said, still smiling ruefully, "you might not like certain things about me."

"Love," Rukia said tartly, "isn't always about what you like. If it is, then it isn't love. It's just called enjoyment. And enjoyment doesn't last forever." _Neither would she and Ichigo_, she added silently. She might be in love, but she wasn't oblivious. Not like she was ten years ago.

"Rukia," Ichigo's looked slightly surprised at her words, his sturdy hands gripping her fingers lightly. His overlong orange spikes waved. Then he sighed, the same little rueful smile playing along his mouth, only it wasn't purely rueful anymore. "I know I'm hiding certain things from you. I'm so sorry. I can't tell you, and yet you deserve to know. But I will one day. But not today, okay?"

The doctor stared at her beseechingly, and she met his intense gaze for a few pregnant seconds before nodding reluctantly. Her small, oval face was tight.

"But I will tell you about the drug that poisoned your sister," Ichigo continued calmly, the emotion in his eyes as immense and raw as ever. His voice was hard. "Because it did the job of poisoning my mother some years ago. And now, thanks to that drug, this is all I have of her."

He gestured slowly at the silver chain around his neck, the metal glinting almost kindly against the lights.

A horrified pause followed.

Rukia felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. Except that a punch would never be adequate enough to describe her feelings at that very moment. A punch to the stomach could damage your intestines, maybe. But it didn't punch all the way up to your heart, like a ferocious jolt of lightning.

His mother had been _poisoned_ by the _same drug? _That was how she had passed away? That was the reason why his sisters had suddenly looked so sad, so far away and distant –lost in their own world of melancholy and _longing_- when Yuzu had mentioned her. That was the reason why Ichigo had been late during their first meeting, to get the necklace he so loved and cherished?

She knew that losing a mother was a terrible thing, even if she didn't have one whom she loved or loved her. Her own mother had been a distant, painful memory, not one worth mentioning. She wasn't even _sad_ about it.

But it had been his mother's death that had driven Kaien into a mad grief. He had left her. And now _Ichigo_…

The _same_ poison?

"Someone murdered your mother?" She gasped, looking at him. What was going on? "The same person who hurt my sister? How? _Why_?"

"I can't be sure if it's the same person," Ichigo replied softly, his angular features rigid. With what, she couldn't tell. But it was definitely a haunting emotion she could never, in a million years, relate to. "But yes, she suffered the exact same symptoms as Hisana-san. Low blood count, and she received vaccine injections too, not to mention a lot more similarities. I should recognize it, even if I try to lie to myself." He let out a hollow laugh. "She was murdered, Rukia. _Murdered_. And for years I was thinking, so _innocently_, that she was just ill."

"Someone tried to hurt our families," Rukia whispered, her body numb. "I am so sorry, Ichigo. I've been so selfish, thinking I was the only one suffering. And I've been so rude and-and _wild,_ thinking about my sister when your mother, too-"

"It's only natural," Ichigo interrupted gently, hands cupping her cheeks. She could feel his warmth and callouses, rough from all the work and struggles in his life. "My mother no longer has any hope. But your sister has. If I were you, I would be even wilder."

"I wanted to hurt whoever did this to my sister before," Rukia's voice was hoarse and thin, but the animosity in it was strong. Her eyes met his, brimming with emotion. "But now I… can't even imagine the pain I want to inflict on this person. How can anyone…? My sister, your mother, _you. _Me. Your sisters. My brother. So many people…"

"Things like poison," Ichigo said tightly, a sort of hatred -that by far outmatched hers- coloring his tone, while his thumbs oh-so-softly stroked her quivering eyelashes, "will never only involve the poisoned."

There was another short silence.

"Mothers," Rukia whispered, almost vacantly as her thoughts drifted. "What are they? Mine never did love me, so I will never know…" She lifted her hands and gently draped them over his which were still cupping her face. "In a way you're lucky, Ichigo. You have all these amazing memories of your mother. That's why it hurts this badly for you now that she's gone. But that's what makes it worth it, because it's always so much nicer to know that you loved than to forever be lifeless and unhappy. So I really hope you can rejoice over that." Her palms tightened tenderly over his hands.

_Lifeless,_ she knew, was a term that had described her after Kaien had left. But if she was to secretly ask herself whether she'd go through all those exhilarating, joyful and beautiful times with him all over again even with the pain, she would say _yes_.

Buried under all her frigidity and self-denial and lifelessness for ten years, she hadn't even realized her own answer until she met Ichigo.

And she was sure this feeling was the same for him and his mother as it were for her and Kaien.

"Thank you, Rukia," Ichigo finally replied quietly, the gratitude in him more than genuine, and she knew she was right. He abruptly kissed her again, pulling her face forward and meshing his lips against hers almost violently.

Their lips pressed tightly against each other, moving almost frantically with passion. It was so amazing and wonderful and-and _comforting_…

"Hey," she panted, pulling away. Her cheeks were flushed red, and her breaths came out in short puffs. "No more of this. We're only friends for now, remember?"

Her lips abruptly thinned as the gravity of their predicament overwhelmed her suddenly. "Someone attacked both our families, Ichigo. Why? What's the connection? We need to get to the bottom of this."

Ichigo nodded, eyes narrowed, and she tried not to notice that his lips were almost as swollen as hers.

She knew that finding the murderer probably meant as much to him as to her, maybe even more. He wanted to kill, to _destroy_ the culprit. She could see it burning in the flickering amber of his eyes, even when he had said nothing about it. She had to remind herself that he was not tame. She'd seen him with Renji.

But they were in this together.

_Lalala~_

Sunlight streamed in through fluttering ivory-white curtains, illuminating a large double bed in the center of the spacious bedroom. Aside from the bed, the room was practically bare. There was only the bed and a mat on the clean marble floor and a low round timber table before the mat. The place was ridiculously simple and impersonal and yet… it made one wonder.

The rays of the sunlight glinted in the silver locks of a man sitting up on the bed, his spidery fingers playing with the honey strands of a still sleeping woman beside him. He was wearing a simple night robe that snugly fit his slender, yet dangerously panther-like body. The slits of his eyes were as sinuously narrowed as usual, but the usual Cheshire smile curling along his narrow jaw was not present.

Gin Ichimaru was confused.

Now that was the most ridiculous thing to associate him with, because _confused _more or less described the people around him. Add in _terrified_ and _in pain _for the people and you would have basically described the situation. The usual situation, anyway.

This woman was not good for him. She was everything he wasn't –so simple and straightforward about everything. She had nothing to hide -unless you counted Hitsugaya when he was looking for her, something that amused him to be no end- and she just …enjoyed life. She drank with him (he watched her drink, really), giggled with him and joked with him, and she didn't seem to ask for more.

That really perturbed him.

All the previous women had wanted so much more. At first, of course, they were content to just flirt with him. Soon, they seeped intrusively into every inch of his life, and persistently so. They wanted to know what he did. They wanted to know what he did when they weren't around, and why shouldn't they? All they knew of their boyfriend was his name, appearance and bed. And that he vanished a lot. And that he came back, sometimes along with a very heavy tinge of a metallic smell. He was a doctor, he had reasoned amiably with them. Which doctor didn't have blood on their hands, _hm_? But it was all wrong somehow, with his fox smile and narrow face and all his calmness, and the women _knew_ that something was wrong and they were right. So they persisted. They _needed _to know.

They were scared of him.

And that was what he wanted, no? He liked scaring people. Gin had never had a confidant in his life nor a friend. He had never needed one. People were playthings, and he played. All their emotions were only too easy to manipulate and he could take his time to decide, like a poker player, which card to draw. Who needed dramas when you could watch one in real life? _He_ was the director.

Only in this current drama he had decided to take part in, he was starting to move, ever so slightly, from the director's chair.

And it disturbed him. This woman… she hadn't even asked him anything about himself, aside from the usual niceties. And yet he knew _she_ knew that something wasn't all that normal about him. He hadn't bothered to hide it, no way. But all she'd done was to offer him persimmons and demanded he bring her out to drink. And he had had fun. Talking to her was so interesting, with her animated babble about how Hitsugaya was infuriating and that she was going to drag that little lawyer out one day to 'loosen up'. And then Hitsugaya had materialized at the bar –no big surprise, she hadn't really been smart to go to her usual bar to drink- and she had hauled Gin and the two of them had raced off from the chasing of a very furious 'little lawyer'.

And he had enjoyed it. Immensely.

But every now and then he would notice an almost imperceptible look cross her face as she glanced affectionately at him through her pretty blue eyes. But he was Gin Ichimaru, and he noticed everything about a person's emotions.

And hers had been _sympathy._

Sympathy? He had been so taken back at seeing that in her cheery, gleeful face. People felt a lot of things towards him, but sympathy was not of them. Was this woman crazy? Perhaps the alcohol _had_ done something to her. Yet he found that he didn't mind it. Not as much as he should had. Not as much as someone who was enjoying a good game with one of his toys rebelling.

She wasn't scared of him. And suddenly, he didn't want to scare her.

The faint noises of shrill rumbling caught his sharp ears and his long fingers, still entangled in Rangiku's beautiful hair, gently pulled away to reach for the vibrating phone on his nightstand.

"Hello?" As he spoke, the familiar grin swept across his thin lips slyly.

"Sir," a deep monotone spoke. "We have a problem."

Gin sighed mockingly, his eyebrows arching. "Don't you ever call to say good morning?"

"It's the afternoon, sir," the same dead voice replied tonelessly. One of Aizen's mindless lackeys, no doubt. No spirit or personality at all. No fun. "The point is, sir, while Hisana Kuchiki's condition has deteriorated once more, at least another shot of X562 is needed to complete the… task."

Gin hummed musingly. "But her husband doesn't like me, yes?" He straightened up, stretching like a contented cat. And he _was_ contented. Being with Rangiku Matsumoto had been very pleasurable indeed. But perhaps, not in the way, he would normally expect… "I'll come over now."

The man casually slid his phone back on the nightstand, being careful in his actions so as not to wake her up, but it was too late.

"Gin?" Rangiku's bleary voice scratched at her throat as she peered at him from under the thick blankets. Her round sapphire eyes were so cute against her beautiful face that he resisted holding her to him again, while running his slender hands through her long, luscious honey-blonde hair. The shapely outline of her body was visible against the blanket. "_Where are you going?"_

She wanted him by her side.

"Away," he replied smilingly, noncommittally, his eyes –slits as they were- trained on her. The night robe slipped from his beautifully sloped shoulders, the delicate frame of his body shifting as he shrugged the fabric off. The silver locks of his hair fanned his face.

"Come back soon," Rangiku said. "I'll be waiting."

He didn't bother to point out that this was his apartment, and obviously he would come back. Because that wasn't what she meant.

"Of course, Rangiku," he answered, a tiny but genuine smile curving his lips.

And he realized that he would always want to come back.

_Lalala~_

Senna was furious. Angry. She was nearly rabid with rage, and the urge to drive a knife through Rukia's stupid bitchy face was overwhelming. And she would carve those fucking features, painting it with the bitch's filthy blood, if she could.

But she couldn't. She could only stand outside, watching them kiss and say things she couldn't hear through the window of the hospital room and then she'd struggle to pick up a few words by pressing her ear against the thick glass.

Ichigo loved _her_. She knew. She was certain. But he was still a man, and Rukia Kuchiki was attractive. Slightly. And the witch was good with her stupid spells. But all villains had their endings. And Rukia would have hers. Just like Ichigo's mother had had hers, for trying to interfere ten years ago…

Thanks to her after she'd met Aizen.

The girl browsed through the many photos of the couple she had taken, her fingerpads rubbing so venomously against her phone screen so that it nearly cracked from the impact of her rage.

No matter. Byakuya Kuchiki would disown her. That would be Senna's first step in destroying her. And then next, she would get Ichigo back and the two of them could completely destroy the fucking bitch together. After he'd come to his senses, of course. But for now, she'd have to be patient. Bide her time, follow Aizen's instructions despite her ill-will towards him, and basically act.

All would be worth it.

She grinned devilishly at her phone, her vengeful mood ebbing away. What was the point in being mad? Rukia might have had her first laugh now, but it was also going to be the last she'd ever have in a long time. A long, long time.

"I wasn't aware," a voice drawled behind her, "that there was someone else besides me who was hired to stalk the Orange Psycho."

She whirled around, heart racing, her golden eyes wide.

Renji Abaraji glared at her through narrowed eyes, his tiny pupils glinting. "Delete those photos, Miss. I don't care about Orange Psycho, but I do know what you did is a severe violation of privacy. It's against the law. I'm not in the mood for another case, okay? So hurry up while you're at it, I'm on a tight schedule. I still haven't beaten that guy up for what he did to me."

**Has anyone noticed that Renji's pupils are like, tiny? LOL. Anyway I haven't updated for some time, sorry gais. This chapter was so mushy that I was like …shfodsholgfdsofg. Yet when I started writing the mush wouldn't stop. I suck, I know.**

**But in any case, please tell me what you guys think! You all are amazing!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. **

Rukia looked up when Ichigo's body suddenly stiffened, his large hands loosening lightly from where they held her thin shoulders. His head turned, the orange bangs sweeping across his cheekbones as he glanced at the door.

"What's wrong?" she demanded, her own figure tensing on the bed as well at the thought of her older brother. She could tell herself that she didn't care about defying Byakuya, but that didn't meant she wouldn't feel unease and fear should he find out. Instinctively, she arched her own neck to peer at the door over his shoulder.

"I thought I heard something," Ichigo replied light-heartedly, turning around to her. He gently pushed the indignant lawyer back onto the bed, his palms resting against her quivering shoulder blades firmly. The doctor brushed a long dark lock of hair from across her scowling face, the tenderness in the action obvious. "Rest. Don't move."

"I am not a weakling, mister," she snapped against the pillow, but decided not to argue further, knowing how pointless it would be with Ichigo's stubbornness. Not to mention she _was_ feeling rather sleepy. Her eyelids drew to a close, comforted by her companion's lulling warmth as he stroked her hair, and the small glow of happiness that she had finally confessed to him and got a kiss in return caressing her… More than one kiss…

"_Rukia!"_ The banging of the door as it flew open reverberated noisily against the originally quiet, soothing atmosphere.

Her eyes flew open in shock. Not at the loudness of the intruder's voice, but at whose voice it was. "Renji?" she choked, her violet orbs huge against her trembling eyelashes and a gasp breaking from her delicate throat. He stood at the door, his spiky crimson hair loud against his dark coat, his narrow black eyes set angrily against his heavily tattooed face. His fists were balled tightly, his shoulders rising and falling with emotion, and she didn't fail to notice the band-aids plastered on his forehead. It was no mystery what had resulted that. Or rather, who.

_Renji._ All along, she had been thinking and fretting about Nii-sama. She had forgotten entirely about how she was going to tell Renji all this, _this_ referring to whatever was going on between her and Ichigo, but she did know one thing: her relationship with Renji in his bed was over. She could never, not with Ichigo's arrival in her life, look at another man sexually again. Already she could feel guilt swirling in her ominously. Renji was one of the few people in her life who had been genuinely good to her and cared for her. If not for him, she had no idea how she would ever be able to pick up the shattered pieces of her life after Kaien had left.

Renji was a dear friend. He was someone she cared for deeply.

"So it is true," Renji said through gritted teeth, taking in Rukia's crumpled shirt from where she lay on the bed, Ichigo's hand pausing in her hair. His words were calm, but heavily laced with venom and bitterness. "The news weren't exaggerating. You two _are_ sleeping together. You're sleeping with the man that attacked me. Did you come to the hospital to find him, Rukia?" His dark gaze mutinously roved Ichigo's white coat.

"Renji- that's not true," Rukia gasped, her mouth open and her windpipe constricting agonizingly. She sprang desperately from her pillow, drowsiness forgotten and her dark hair disheveled from her crooked bun, but Ichigo's arms, wrapped around her shaking shoulders, stopped her from leaving the bed entirely.

"What do you want?" The doctor asked coldly, his eyes icy and hard like frozen honey.

"I should be the one asking you that!" Renji finally burst out, his deep voice rising in bubbling rage. The man took a step almost violently forward, his hand whipping the air in a gesture to further prove his point. "Do you know anything about Rukia? About the things she's gone through? If you care for her _at all_, get out before you break her heart! She doesn't need this a second time!"

"Renji!" Rukia exclaimed furiously. It was mortifying; she did not need to let Ichigo know about Kaien and the fact that she had suffered from something like _heartbreak _before. "Stop this nonsense and let me explain!"

This time, Ichigo cut her off. "Let him be, Rukia," he said curtly, gold gaze staring piercing daggers at Renji's own intense look. "If _he_ cares about you, he would have more trust in you. Get out of here, Pineapple Head, this is a private ward."

"Private ward, my ass!" Renji let out a coarse bark of morbid laughter. "Did you know, Rukia, that your sister's handmaid, that Senna girl, was snapping photos of you two through the window the whole time?"

"_What?_" This time it wasn't just Rukia who was shocked; Ichigo's amber eyes were wide beneath his lashes and his lean body tensed aggressively. He ran a hand agitatedly through his tussled orange hair, the silkiness brushing against his smooth skin. "Senna did _what_?"

Rukia's blood seemed to chill in her veins; those very photos taken could easily be sent to the public's eyes and even worse, her brother's. She herself had just told her brother a day ago that her relationship with Ichigo was platonic; now she would be caught in another seemingly lie if the photos of her and Ichigo kissing were leaked. She did not want to give her brother another reason to hate her. If he was going to know the truth, then she wanted to be the one to explain it to him personally, not by a couple of stupid photos. Her face paled, her lip trembling; what was going on? Why would Senna do this?

"What would have happened if I hadn't made her delete those photos, huh?" Renji jeered, relishing the Orange Pyscho's shock. The room was suddenly silent, the atmosphere forbidding and heavy like a storm cloud before it erupted. "Thankfully for you guys, I did this for Rukia. Rukia is everything to me, Ichigo Kurosaki, and you had better remember that before sprouting anything of the word _private _around me."

Ichigo's eyes flashed the look Rukia recognized too well- the molten fury flickering in the almost crimson gold irises. His muscles tightened as he tensed, and she instantly flung herself at him, small hands clasping his neck desperately. "No violence! Ichigo, _no_ violence here, you fool!" She shouted warningly.

Renji's mouth thinned coldly, watching her. "Rukia, come home with me _now_. This whole thing is over. I don't know what you have planned with this man, but I want you to end it. Have you forgotten about me- about _us_?" His steely tone softened in desperation at his last line, almost cracking with emotion. The man reached out a hand towards her, gaze beseeching. Ichigo glared, looking as if he wanted to say something scathing and chop off that hand if not for Rukia's restraining touch.

Rukia looked at her childhood friend, smiling wanly but affectionately. "You are everything to me, Renji. A great friend, and not to mention you've always been there for me when I needed you. Thank you so much. I hope to do the same for you. However, you should know that what we share… isn't the kind of love you're referring to. At least, not for me. I'm sorry, but… I want to be with Ichigo, Renji. I really hope you can be happy for me." She rested her head against said man's slender neck, her arms still curled around it. The doctor turned to look at the lawyer, the vehemence seeping out of him as his angular features softened in wonder. A small grin turned up his lips before he pulled Rukia tighter into his embrace, holding her tenderly, ignoring Renji.

Renji took in a sharp intake of breath, pain and hurt painting his countenance. His eyelids lowered momentarily, and a few seconds passed before his eyes finally snapped open properly again, his resolution steely once more. He wanted to hurt Ichigo, he really did. He had planned to beat up the Orange Pyscho from the very start, and the urge had intensified now that Rukia was involved. But he knew that what he wanted to do to the orange asshole was going to be very gruesome, something he wanted to take satisfaction in without Rukia nearby. "Stop playing the fool, Rukia," he spat, striding towards the bed. Ichigo immediately drew Rukia closer in his arms, his gaze at Renji contemptuous. Both wanted to inflict violence at each other, they knew, but not with Rukia around. To Renji's fury, he noticed traces of smugness in the bastard's face as well, now that _he_ had Rukia in _his _arms. His fists tightened, wanting to rip him away from Rukia, before he stopped short in surprise.

The lawyer took a good look at the man's face for the first time. Something about Ichigo was familiar, now that he thought about it… why hadn't he noticed earlier? "I get it now, Rukia," he said at last, voice grim and unamused. "He looks just like _him_, doesn't it? No wonder you're so… enticed by this guy."

Rukia instantly froze in Ichigo's embrace, her purple pupils dilating and her lips white. The doctor's head whipped around to her, gold eyes burning and flashing, his calloused palms tightening on her shoulders in a grip that almost hurt. "Who is he referring to?" He demanded, staring at her. Renji narrowed his eyes. There was something on the Orange Pyscho's face that wasn't just shocked curiosity. The emotion playing on his features… Renji's words had struck something in Ichigo, alright. Only he didn't know what.

"It's nothing… nothing important," Rukia said quickly, now not looking so confortable in Ichigo's embrace. Renji would have been the one to feel snug this time if not for the fact that he was right; he had struck the nail right on the head and Rukia had indeed noticed Ichigo's resemblance to Kaien.

What was she thinking? Kaien had crushed her; Renji had seen Rukia after he'd vanished, and she had been someone broken. Now she was willing to hook up with a mad violent bastard who looked like him and expect a happy ending?

He was going to have a long, long talk with her after this. Why couldn't she just see that _he_ was available, that _he_ could make her happy?

Ichigo opened his mouth, wanting to pursue the matter, but something about Rukia's tired expression made him stop. "Look, Ichigo," Rukia said, gently prying his arms off her and straightening the creases on her shirt, looking at anywhere but him, "Thanks for taking care of me, but I have to go. I've been here long enough as it is, and I'm sure you have your own things to do. I'll see you…" her voice, now brisk and strong once more, stopped for a second as she noticed Renji's scowling presence nearby. "I'll call you later, okay?" she finally ended off lamely.

He nodded reluctantly, knowing that right now things between them were not at the best time for her, and turned to Renji, amber eyes hard but resigned. "Make sure she goes home, and not to work. Tell her to lie down for a bit. She-"

"Why should I do what you say? What she does is not your business," Renji sneered, his eyebrows rising icily.

"Because she bloody passed out earlier, you moron," Ichigo snapped impatiently, not wanting to start another fight with the buffoon. It was true they both heavily disliked each other, but they did share one other mutual feeling- they both cared for Rukia. And even if it nearly killed Ichigo to entrust Rukia to that moron, he would have to do it. Renji's eyes widened at the news, and he shot a concerned look at Rukia, who ignored him. "Now just do what I say, and give her these aspirins and make sure she sleeps for at least a whole day." The doctor tossed a bag casually onto Renji's palms, and they glared at each other.

"Freak," Renji hissed, snatching the bag away.

"Loser," Ichigo muttered.

"Says the King of Losers."

"Well _this_ King beat _you_ up, didn't he?"

"You-"

"Stop talking like I'm not here, you jerks!" Rukia, now standing up and her outfit reasonably less wrinkled with handbag in tow, slammed her heels at both men's feet. They both immediately yelped in pain, their eyes watering, hopping lightly about. "And I'm perfectly fine," she added cockily, violet orbs narrowed, "Don't try to baby me, any one of you. I do _not_ need to be babied." Ichigo gave her a-not-so-amused look, orange locks falling over his face.

"Rukia," Renji whimpered indignantly, his toe still throbbing. "That was uncalled for!"

"But do you believe me now?" Rukia snapped. She was back to her Rukia Kuchiki persona, her eyes glowering authoritative violet fire and standing proudly with her back straight. "I have not slept with Ichigo, Renji. I was merely here with him because I passed out, okay?" Her voice nearly choked at admitting that small sliver of weakness, but then both Renji and Ichigo had now practically seen her when she was at her most vulnerable anyway. "He was taking care of me, and yes, Renji, I asked him to take care of Hisana too." She shot Renji a defiant look, ignoring the stirrings of angered disbelief in his dark eyes.

"And about me and Rukia sleeping together," Ichigo added cockily, white teeth flashing, "It's only a matter of time- ow!" he let out another yelp as Rukia stamped his foot again. The tall man shook his ankle vigorously in pain, his loafers now wrinkled by the impact of her shoe. Renji smirked, some of the anger in his stomach dissipating, the pain in his own toe magically gone.

"We're only friends now, remember?" Rukia demanded heatedly, a rosy flush settling on her cheeks. Her head was beginning to throb again and she badly craved a shower, but she ignored it. Instead, she fixed Ichigo a pointed look. "Also, Ichigo, I think you should apologize to Renji for attacking him the other day."

"_What_?" Ichigo, still shaking his aching foot, looked up in indignation. No way was he apologizing to that oaf, especially not in front of Rukia! He hated that red-haired asshole, and now Rukia, the woman he had won over from that bastard, wanted him to apologize? How was that a proper victory? "No way!"

Renji snickered, arms folded in mock expectance. Sure, he was going to have a good talk with Rukia later, demand about her health and what was going on with Ichigo, but that didn't meant he couldn't savor this for now.

"Hurry up, Ichigo," Rukia glared at him, tapping her foot onto the smooth floor.

He looked at her fierce expression, hands sinking deeply in his pockets, and finally complied. "Sorry for hurting your delicate frame so badly, Renji darling," his deep voice rose in a jeering falsetto, gold eyes gleaming. Renji shot him a furious look, lips pulled back in a snarl.

It hadn't been the anger and ferocity in Rukia's glare that had made Ichigo do it. It was the wan glaze in her violet eyes, the pale complexion and slightly tired down-turned lips behind her glare that had told him she hadn't recovered as quickly as she wanted them to think. It was that which made him finally apologize to Renji, to quickly get her home to rest.

Rukia looked satisfied at his apology, mocking as it might have been, and smoothed her tousled dark hair before heading for the door. "I'll drop you a text later, Ichigo." They both knew there were still Hisana's case to work on, and the mystery shrouding both his mother and her sister and Urahara-san and many more people. It was dirty work, and nobody looked forward to uncovering dark filth behind the rosy curtains of their lives.

But it was something they had to do, and at least they were in this together.

Renji was not as content with the apology as Rukia was, however. "Rukia, how can you be okay with that? That was obviously not an apology!" He spat, scarlet splashes of his mane vibrant in the dull ward of the hospital. His dark coat flicked.

To his surprise, Ichigo shot him a look, intense and commanding. "Abarai, bring Rukia home _now_," he said quietly, the rare genuine authority in his voice surfacing like steel.

Renji glanced at Rukia's startled face, and for once since he met Ichigo, understanding crossed his initially livid features. He reached out and took Rukia's bony elbow, nodding towards the door. "Let's go."

"Rukia," Ichigo called.

She turned quizzically.

"You'll tell me who Renji was talking about soon, right?"

She hesitated, oval face taut, before nodding. "Yes. When you tell me what you're hiding from me."

He watched the door close behind her, eyelashes lowered, realizing that that moment of truth in the future would either end them or make them stronger. He couldn't let the former happen. He couldn't.

But now, to find Senna.

_Lalala~_

Dr Baker sipped his tea tiredly, staring at the charts of Hisana Kuchiki. He wearily rubbed his eyes with a hand, his fingers tightening on the paper of the report. Now that he was no longer in the presence of the intimidating Byakuya Kuchiki and in the privacy of his office, he could finally allow the fear and his lack of confidence seep through his friendly, smiling mask. Hisana's case was too serious. The woman was no doubt dying even as he sat in the office right now, feet fidgeting by the wheels of his black leather office chair. Perhaps if she lay in her coma, she would not die but would simply remain comatose forever, supported by the beeping life machines.

Baker had first asked Byakuya Kuchiki upon seeing Hisana to carry out a blood transfusion for the unconscious woman, and the Chairman of Kuchiki Corps had immediately agreed, having the blood type O, the universal blood donor. Within a few hours, the transfusion was complete, and within another few hours, all her husband's newly donated blood had depleted in her veins. It was so incredible if not for the fact that it was so terrifying. Her heart muscles were slowing too, leading to a dangerous drop in her blood pressure. Meanwhile Kuchiki Byakuya had swiftly recovered, his own blood supply growing back to normal slowly.

Dr Baker simply couldn't understand what was causing this to the woman. He had taken her blood tests, observed for any traces of poison in her blood and also her organs, but had found nothing. At this rate, if her blood cells were to deplete again, she would surely die. Her spleen seemed to be producing blood cells at a defeated slow rate against the destruction of her blood. Nothing of Mr Kuchiki's vast fortune could save her, nor his famous resolution.

A small knock on the door interrupted his grim thoughts, and his head jerked up, startled. "Please come in," he called, praying it was not the Kuchiki himself. The doctor simply did not know how to bring the news to the stoic individual.

The office door slid open with an alarming smoothness, and a pair of loafers crept in stealthily.

"Hello," Gin Ichimaru smiled.

Baker stiffened. This man, too, intimidated him but in a very different way from Kuchiki Byakuya. He was every bit as friendly as Kuchiki was cold, but there was no warmth in his cordiality. It was as if he found mirth in some secret only he knew, the kind of mirth that was dangerous and sadistic and threatened to suffocate Baker. It was not the kind of mirth that was contagious and spread cheerfully and jovially to everyone. It was the kind of mirth that came at the expense of everyone else's.

Kuchiki Byakuya had instructed that this man stay away from Mrs Kuchiki, and privately Baker agreed fervently. The aura this man… this _doctor _emanated, was not healthy for his patients.

Gin approached him, Cheshire smile curved on his jaw, silver hair glinting as his slender, willowy frame glided over to the table.

"Can I help you?" Baker fought the urge to hide, forcing a smile on his face instead.

"As a matter of fact you can," Ichimaru drawled, draping himself over a chair, slender hand waving languidly. His white coat hung over the chair like a white spider web. "And I can help you too, as it seems."

"I'm sorry, I don't…" Baker swallowed audibly, cursing himself. People like Gin fed off his nervousness and fear, and displaying those emotions was not a good idea. His brown locks curled over his sweaty forehead.

"Don't look so anxious now, my good doctor," Ichimaru smiled slyly. The narrow slits of his eyes curved mysteriously over his fair skin. "As you see, I happen to just want to ask a little favor from our nice Dr Baker. Something involving this…"

The man dipped a slender narrow wrist into the large pocket of his own doctor's coat, before pulling out a tiny vial of a crystal clear liquid between his spidery fingers.

Baker narrowed his eyes. "What is that?"

"Do you honestly care?" Gin asked softly. "Come, Dr Baker. I know of your financial dilemma. After all, you're actually a _very_ compulsive gambler, George Baker. Am I right?" he smiled at the sharp intake of breath that came as his response. "You may present the face of a reputable doctor to England, and perhaps on the surface you are one. But the urge to gamble is tarnishing what's underneath, isn't it? You gambled away all your hard-earned fortune, but that still wasn't enough to pay off your debts. Furious at you, your wife and children threatened to leave you until you paid back all your debts." Gin absently swirled a finger in the air, almost as if he was speaking about the weather, and not the destructive events of the doctor's life. Baker's lips were tight and his whole body was trembling. "Being hired by Kuchiki Byakuya was a wonderful turn for you. He knew of your troubles, and offered to pay a hefty sum if you treated his wife. A sum enough to just pay off your debts."

Baker finally leapt to his feet, the leather chair rolling violently back to hit the windows with a loud bang. He was breathing heavily, eyes glimmering with rage, and his hands were fastened tightly on the edge of his table, causing his knuckles to whiten drastically. "How do you know these things?" he snarled, feet pacing the floor. "This was arranged privately between me and Kuchiki Byakuya!"

"Again," Gin replied, smiling devilishly, "Do you honestly care? Your little private arrangement with him isn't going to work out, not with the fact that you can't even figure out how to treat her. But with me, I can solve everything. I have the money you so badly need." Ichimaru casually pulled out another envelope from his pocket, and he pulled apart the opening to teasingly reveal wads of notes inside. Baker's breath hitched. The smile on Gin's face widened maliciously. "Inside there is more than what's enough to pay off your debts. And it's all yours, if you only ask for it."

Baker slumped back onto the chair, the fight gone out of him. "What do you want from me?" he asked quietly, his doctor's coat crumpled.

"To do this," Gin waved the glass vial, his voice tilted cheerfully. "Inject this to Hisana Kuchiki."

Baker glared. "What is that? Byakuya Kuchiki would never allow you to inject anything unidentified to Hisana Kuchiki. He wouldn't allow you to inject anything, period."

"Why else would I be talking to you right now, you silly man?" Gin answered lazily. "Inject this to Hisana and you'll get the money. It's so very simple."

Baker swallowed, doctor's morale and his need for money wrestling violently in his tormented mind. "At least tell me that liquid is harmless."

"Like I said a million times, Dr Baker," Gin purred, "In _our_ arrangement, do you honestly care? The rules are laid out simply, and you either take them or you leave. Go on, return to the remains of you and Kuchiki's arrangement if you want to. Go on and return to the remains of your _family_ if you want to."

Baker clutched his forehead with a shaking hand, the air-conditioning not at all stopping his sweat glands. "Let me think about this." His voice was trembling, thick with indecision.

Gin rose regally from his chair, unconcerned of the man's new dilemma and his smile sleek in his narrow face. He dropped the vial and envelope carelessly back into his coat. "Of course. But remember, don't take too long. I am a patient man, but Byakuya Kuchiki isn't _that_ patient."

He moved to the door in slow, casual steps before stopping right at the doorknob, his head tossed back in a mocking gesture. Silver strands of his hair gleamed. "You know where I'll be if you need me," he drawled for the last time, before leaving a shaken man behind in the empty office.

Outside, Gin stood motionlessly at the door, his smug smile very slowly dropping from his originally upturned lips. The tall man's face was for once, as emotionless and blank as Byakuya Kuchiki's, and his long fingers lethargically rubbed against each other. A sudden ringing from his phone made him look down, and his eyes, closed into slits as always, narrowed at the name "_AIZEN SOUSUKE" _plastered on the clear screen of his IPhone. No doubt the man was asking him for reports of his latest exploit under his orders.

Gin dropped the still ringing phone into his pocket, his feet gracefully grazing the floor as he headed home. Where Rangiku was waiting.

Aizen could wait. And perhaps, so could this foreign feeling Rangiku had inspired in him called guilt.

_Lalala~_

Ichigo treaded into the hospital cafeteria, the delicious aroma of a variety of dishes wafting over his nose from all directions. A sparse number of patients and a few doctors sat about in the area, eating and sipping. He paid no attention to that however, and simply made his way to where Senna was sitting alone by a metal table, sipping a cup of steaming coffee, her legs crossed elegantly.

She looked up at his approach, his long legs pacing and a small smile formed on her lipstick-coated lips. "Ah, Ichigo," she called eagerly, sitting up straighter as she lowered her cup. "You came, as I thought you would."

Silently, he pulled out the chair in front of her and sat, satiny orange locks tossed over his face. "Senna."

"Looking serious, Ichigo?" Senna arched a purple eyebrow, but other from that she did not look surprised at all. Instead, she took another long sip from her coffee. "Come on, spit out whatever you want to say. Unless you want to drink something too?"

"Renji said you were taking photos of Rukia and I through the ward's window," Ichigo replied quietly, his honey eyes narrowed. "Is that true?"

"Maybe," Senna drawled.

Ichigo placed his fists heavily on the table, leaning forward, his lips pursed. "Why, Senna? Why did you do that? Things do not look good for you right now. Do you know you are the prime suspect to Hisana-san's case?" _And my mother's,_ he wanted to add, but decided not to state that. Yet.

It was more for himself than for her.

"So many questions, Ichigo," Senna trilled, proceeding to put down the coffee and eyed him squarely. Hard gold met indifferent gold. "Oh, Ichigo, don't you trust me? Can't you see I do everything for us?"

Ichigo raised his eyebrows. "It's because I trust you that I'm so frustrated, Senna. Please, please tell me you have nothing to do with Hisana-san's condition." His mouth was tight, long lean frame tensing.

She peered at the attractive features of his face, sighing. "I will tell you this, Ichigo. It's true that that silly red-haired man caught me taking photos. And he made me delete them." To Ichigo's disconcertment, a satisfied smile grew along her red lips, and there was nothing warm in the smile. "It was so silly. Deleting them made no difference at all. As if I didn't email those things to my personal computer at home before he caught me."

Hot, fiery anger began to boil in Ichigo's gut at the realization of her words. "That's sick, Senna. Why do you want to keep those photos? Please don't let me regret trusting you, Senna. Delete those things at once. They're a violation of Rukia's privacy."

To his surprise, fury suddenly flared in the originally composed face of his companion. She slammed her fist on the table, the coffee cup wobbling at the impact. "Her privacy? How about your privacy, Ichigo? Doesn't that matter? Why is it always about her? _Why_?"

Ichigo's eyes widened.

"It doesn't matter," Senna continued, the anger fading from her face so abruptly to the point that it was alarming. Ichigo immediately suspected that there was something wrong with her. "I have those photos. With those photos, I can do anything. Even take you away from her."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ichigo snapped, his restraint breaking at her words.

Senna's heavily mascaraed eyes widened innocently. "Did you know, Ichigo, that when the news came out about Rukia spending the night at your place, the Kuchiki Family was in array? Byakuya was furious with her, and Rukia's public image was...compromised."

Ichigo sent her a glare heavy with poison. He did not lose his temper often, and while it was true he glared and scowled frequently, everyone knew that his scathing expressions were empty of genuine anger. However, when he got truly angry, people knew that he was a force to be reckoned with, as seen by Renji. He would never strike a woman, but the look he sent her was enough to send anyone reeling. But she did not. "Being in love has nothing to do with a person's public image!"

"When you're famous as she is," Senna said softly, "It does. And I think she should value her public image a little more than what you say, since Byakuya Kuchiki threatened to disown her for being with you."

Ichigo's eyes were wide, his chair falling back as he stood up, the horrified expression on his face as clear as a day. "What? She said nothing about that-" His mind flashed to the phone call yesterday, cutting off his words.

_"No," Rukia responded sharply. "I'm not seeing you ever again. Did you not hear the news yesterday? About… us? Nii-sama misunderstood and now he doesn't want me to ever see you again."_

_"Like he wanted you to see me before," Ichigo retorted sarcastically. "Listen, Rukia, which matters more to you? Your sister's life, or pissing your big brother off?"_

_"How can I trust you?" She demanded._

_"Rukia!" Ichigo snapped trenchantly. "Do I kid about a person's life? Please, at least give me that respect as a doctor."_

_There was a short silence. "If you want, Ishida is with me," Ichigo continued, after a few silent seconds. "You can trust him at least-"_

_"Its fine," Rukia said quietly. "I trust you. I'll be there at the hospital in an hour."_

He had thought that something had seemed off with her then, but she had refused to tell him what. Then she had fainted in his arms, something he did not want to ever remember again. Stress, he had diagnosed himself, through the haze of his heartache. Emotional stress.

His fists tightened. He knew she loved him; he had clearly seen it in her eyes when she had looked at him and confessed. She had loved him, despite her brother's threats. And she had loved her sister, keen on going to the hospital to see him despite the danger.

_Rukia… _His heart swelled in his chest at the love for his beloved, at the courage she possessed.

"Listen to me," Senna ranted, oblivious to his thoughts, "if the pictures I took falls into Kuchiki Byakuya's hands, what do you think would happen? He would disown her for real, that would be for sure."

Ichigo's fists were shaking at how tightly he was clutching his fingers. "Don't," he breathed, "Hurt Rukia."

"Oh, I wouldn't hurt her," Senna whispered. Another large smile plastered on her face, convincing him that she was indeed bordering on insane. He had been wrong about her all along. He had thought her a friend. Surprisingly, the only thing that hurt right then was the thought of Rukia in danger. "Not if you break all contact with her and go out with me."

Ichigo spat at her. "I will never go out with you!"

"You might think twice about that," Senna purred. "I can send those photos to Byakuya Kuchiki anytime. And _everyone knows that pictures never lie_!" She burst out into hysterical laughter, causing people around her to stare, including Ichigo. Only, he stared at her unseeingly through a haze of defeat.

He loved Rukia more than anyone else in the world. He would do everything to protect even if it meant breaking her heart possibly again.

And breaking his own.

**Oh gosh, I suck. I know. Updating late again, please don't kill me. Lack of time and laziness is horrible, but I got another review yesterday just telling me to update. And immediately I thought of all you faithful and amazing reviewers who have stuck by me for so long, and I feel super guilty. Thank you, every one of you. To those who alerted my story but never reviewed, please do so. Commenting only takes a minute at max, but writing chapters can take up to days. If you like following my story and reading it, please be kind and reward me a little! Thanks! **

**SPOILER ALERT: TO THOSE WHO HAVENT READ BLEACH RECENTLY DON'T READ ON. Omg, guys, can't believe Kaien is Ichigo's cousin! The new chapters are interesting albeit a little shocking, but I'm looking forward to Isshin and Masaki's story! LOL finally, possibly a little romantic tale in Bleach!**


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Bleach, Drama, Romance