[Fanfiction] IchiRuki: Encounter; Rêverie
I decided I wanted to make a LJ back up for my fics. That was actually the point of this journal, but I guess I got too lazy about having to log out of
hi_chan and stuff (when the features weren't as pretty as they are now :P). This means that you'll probably get tired of seeing my spam entries containing old and new fanficition. To start up, I want to back up "Death Butterflies" which as of now is 53 one-shots long,,,? For now, here I present drabble 51, and never-seen-before and yet to be published on FF.net, drabble 54 (a.k.a. 51's sequel).
Title: Encounter
Part of "Death Butteflies"
Series: Bleach.
Pairing: IchiRuki.
Date: April 14th & August 8th, 2006.
Notes: PG. Romance. Future-fic.
{
Usually, he never wanders by himself in Tokyo and much less at such hours. The sky is dark but every corner shines with neon lights.
Ever since he came to this place he never goes out other than to assist medical school or to restock his groceries at the small convenient store by the corner of the apartment complex where he lives now. He has visited some places here and there, but at night he makes it a point to stay home. It’s not like his studies let him otherwise: they keep him pretty much either at school studying his ass off, at the hospital for practices, or back at home studying some more while trying to sleep at least some four hours each night. Besides, he still has issues with handling his spirit pressure and hollows are still attracted to his soul’s power. He doesn’t like messing with those things when exams are up.
He usually doesn’t take the subway to some random place somewhere near Tokyo. He usually doesn’t make such rash decisions, but today he doesn’t care.
He needs a break from everything, he needs some rest and fresh air, and to see friendlier faces that he didn’t think he’d miss so much when he left home for his university studies. There is a big test due next Friday and he has to memorize all the bones in the human body, their locations, and their function, as in every single one of them, but his mind is plagued with other things other than the human skeleton. He’ll probably fail it anyway. Stress is your worst enemy, he discovers.
Usually, he sees ghosts floating and drifting away.
They come and go and like before, back at his little hometown, he doesn’t think much of his ‘gift’. Of course, the number of spirits has increased in such a large and crowded place, yet he is already used to it. They are part of what he calls his routine. The ghosts are all of regular people, old and young. He does not meddle in their affairs as long as they don’t meddle in his. (Like that spirit of a girl who had a crush on him once and that followed him around for two weeks. Then she’d found out his lab partner was actually a girl and hell broke loose. When she didn’t listen to his explanations that she shouldn’t chase him or his partner around, he had to perform konsoh before she cursed his lab partner for eternity.) There is also a larger amount of hollows, but it’s nothing he can’t deal with if he has to face them.
But today something extraordinary happens: he sees a monster, and then an angel clad in black, flowing robes. Her hair is black as a raven’s feathers and her skin so pale that it resembles the snow in the winter.
It’s been so long and yet so little since the last time he saw her. She is still as small and fragile-looking as ever, but he knows better than judging the book by its cover. He has plenty of experiences concerning that, the freshest on his mind being that time when he even dared of thinking something good would come out of kicking her ass when they met. One impression hadn’t been wrong though; from the very beginning he knew he was in for trouble. It had been a hellish trip after that first, fateful reunion, now that he thinks about it. Not that he’d been unwilling to be part of it, either; he’d been conscious of what he’d been doing, most of the times.
Usually he doesn’t think of her and usually he only sees her in his dreams. But today he is there not thinking or dreaming about her but seeing her with his own eyes, for real.
When he does think of her, however, he always finds himself daydreaming in the end, for the memories he has engraved in his heart of her are so strong and vivid that it’s almost like he is dreaming, like he is being part of it all over again. And when he dreams of her, the colors of those memories are even brighter than his daydreams. That’s why he rather not think of her and why he is glad he forgets most of his dreams right after he wakes up. It’s not a good thing if you end up being snapped at for being dazed in class by the fifty-seven year-old geezer he has as his Biology teacher.
She glances his way for a millisecond, after slashing the huge monster; their eyes meet and it is enough for him. He is certain that it’s her.
The blue in her eyes is the same shade as the one in the image in his mind: so deeply blue that it was almost purple but not yet, a midnight tone like the night skies after sunset. He also recognizes that look of mild shock in her face. He’d seen it more than enough to remember the way her eyes widen a bit, how her lips quirk barely a couple of millimeters, and that her brow furrows almost imperceptibly when she is surprised. And then, there had also been that sword in her hands that could chill the air with one movement of her wrist. He’d even caught a glimpse of the intricate pattern on the hilt that resembled his in ways no one ever dared to comment about and that inevitably signified the bond between them.
Then she is gone.
She is always like this, drifting in and out of his life like a butterfly posing on flower to another flower, to one time to another. He never catches her, he realizes with some sort of amusement. He’s always watching when she leaves; just once he’d been fortunate enough to be the one to turn his back on her. That time hadn’t been as bitter… nostalgic, at the most. For some reason, he’d rather face her wrath, which was a lot to say the least, than watch her back as she leaves him once again. But wouldn’t it be better if neither of them left at all? Wouldn’t matters be easier then? Probably not, but he can try.
Usually, he will not care. But today he can’t pretend.
He wants her back.
And because he is Kurosaki Ichigo and because she is Kuchiki Rukia, he will get her back.
}
Title: Rêverie
Part of "Death Butteflies"
Series: Bleach.
Pairing: IchiRuki.
Date: September 9th, 2006.
Notes: Romance. PG. Future-fic. Sequel to Encounter.
{
They aren’t supposed change each other’s lives any more than they have. Each of them walks a different path now; two paths never meant to cross.
After their last parting, Rukia had thought she’d never see him again. And yet, today she thinks she sees a boy who bears a striking resemblance to him. Her mind must be playing tricks on her, but there’s also no one else with that incredibly bright ginger hair. No, no, don’t even think about that.... It doesn’t matter anyway, because it’s time to get out of here. Though the black-haired woman wants, and feels the need, to take a break, she doubts it’ll be too long before she gets another call. Thinking back, she can’t deem why she has asked for this patrol mission. After all, there’s not too much until her new position within her division becomes official and there’s paperwork she needs to finish for it. Saying goodbye to constant field work with this last assignment seems too troublesome now.
“Rukia!!”
They are supposed to live parallel lives. Parallels never touch each other.
She halts, by instinct a hand reaching for her sword. Her hair comes in the way when she turns around at the sound of a voice calling for her. Pushing dark locks away from her view with long fingers, her eyes widen when she distinguishes someone running toward her. The figure stops just in time, otherwise knocking her down, and doubles himself over his body, panting. The hunched form before her straightens up only seconds later. Her only reaction is to stifle a gasp. Oh, she’s had this kind of vision before, but not once has the look in his eyes seemed so fierce.
They aren’t supposed to see each other anymore. So Rukia understands right away that this must be a dream, after all.
“I found you,” he murmurs in a low and tired voice, as though he’s been running forever.
And Rukia wants to laugh. Really, this daydream is way too vivid. At least a thousand times more vivid than the many others she’s had. She shakes her head at the notions and sighs. Now she expects to wake up any time; she’s never seen the outcome of their meeting since her dream usually ends just here. But after a long pause filled with the sound of people rushing about to catch their ride and the trains whistling as they rush by, the dream doesn’t break. Ichigo’s intense stare now turns into something close to a glare, probably because she’s so unresponsive. But how can she react to something like this in any case?
“Aren’t you going to say something?” he mutters, annoyed. He must look weird talking to the air before everybody else’s eyes, not that a single person stops enough to notice.
He seems slightly older. Ichigo’s face is just a bit longer and his jaw looks stronger, he’s a tad taller too. He’d doubtlessly look like a badass-guy with a few scrapes here and there but his face is clean and his skin as smooth as it can be with his morning bear. She guesses he hasn’t shaved in a couple of days. His shoulders are broader and his muscles are well-developed, almost as if he’d been constantly training or sword fighting. Maybe he still uses that permit...? Indeed, he has changed. However, there is one thing that hasn’t changed: his hair is still that loud shade of orange and it’s messy as always. And his eyes… oh, his eyes are still bright amber pools.
Rukia blinks. “You are really here?”
He gazes at her and gives her a funny look. “I’m not a ghost, if that’s what you’re talking about,” he states. He looks down at her fisted hand, clenched around the hilt of her sword. “Are you done with your job? Can we talk?”
She nods absentmindedly. What is he doing here? She thinks in haste. Byakuya-niisama is going to have a fit. The woman has never expected this; ever since that last time she has lost track of him and his life. Because it isn’t allowed, because they weren’t... they aren’t… Ah! There are far too many things not meant to be for the two of them. Ichigo is starting to move, possibly to go somewhere else where they can speak more calmly, and everything suddenly dawns upon her. “No,” she says suddenly, making him stop on his tracks and alarming the boy.
He looks confused. “What?”
“No, we can’t do this,” she tells him, face resolute. Ichigo walks back to her and plants himself in front of her, eyes and ear intent of her. Rukia frowns and Ichigo glares hard. They have to play by the rules and they certainly don’t allow this kind of thing. He isn’t supposed to see her until he’s old and wrinkly and has led a good life. Only then…
She then mouths out-loud what they both know too well. “We aren’t supposed to meet.”
Ichigo harrumphs and crosses his arms over his chest; the frown on his face darkens considerably. “You’re spouting that shit too?” he looks not only annoyed, but truly irritated. At that moment, he looks more worn-out than ever. Now than she can observe him more closely Rukia can see the bags under his eyes and how pale his cheeks are. What has he been doing lately anyway?
“Such big words,” she remarks slyly, making Ichigo scowl at her implications. “Well, Ichigo, I have to get going. It was nice seeing you. Stay well!” She turns on her heel, ignoring the stiffness in her legs or the bewildered look on his face. There are people waiting for her back at home; they expect her to be there. Both of them know there is simply no way they can live in each other’s worlds and that there’s no middle for them either. Right?
“No!” his hand reaches out for her arm. He pulls her back and causes her to stagger. “I told myself I’d never watch you leave again,” he mutters angrily. She can’t tell if his anger is directed toward her or more toward himself. She is whirled around so she is facing him again and his eyes are instantly boring holes into her. He thrusts his hand toward her, giving her a more than determined glare. “I’m never going to watch you leave. Understood?”
There is a rather long pause of silence, the lights of the trains that zoom by flashing around them. At last, she allows herself a half-smirk as she takes his offered hand. There are too many obstacles between them and they seem difficult to surpass.
But maybe today they can make it.
And because she is Kuchiki Rukia and because he is Kurosaki Ichigo, they probably will.
}