Work Text:
Shi-gatsu.
Naturally, Rukia beat the living shit out of him the next day.
Ichigo should have expected it.
She was probably anxious about the night before. She probably regretted showing vulnerability to him, and was worried about how he would act with her. So she made a preemptive strike against the possibility of him hurting her by sparring with Ichigo more aggressively than she had in a long time. Like, years ago, when she had taught him how to fight Hollows.
After seeing how it was, Ichigo fought back even more defensively, but for every blow he was able to land, Rukia cut him at least five times. Or she danced inside his guard and hit him in the mouth or ribs.
Ichigo didn’t mind so much about the cuts, but he really hated getting punched in the mouth with a zanpakuto hilt. Especially from someone so much smaller than him, it hurt his pride. Along with his mouth.
Rukia’s serene confidence, accompanied by a fierce grin, never faltered, even when Ichigo was able to land a blow. Ichigo’s warm affection and excitement at seeing Rukia was quickly replaced by a pissed-off grimness.
The sparring match collected quite an audience, so Ichigo wasn’t about to yell at Rukia and ask her what the hell she was doing. He just concentrated on not getting skewered and wondered if the match would go on until he dropped dead of blood loss. Since he certainly wasn’t going to yield first. Rukia would have to kill him before he did that.
One of the Soul Academy instructors finally called a halt to their match, since they needed the practice ring for a class. Ichigo gave Rukia a short, sarcastic bow, then turned on his heel and stalked back to his room. He slammed the door shut behind him and looked down at himself. His clothing was shredded, he had tiny cuts all over his arms, legs, chest and hands, his ribs ached, and the side of his mouth felt bruised and swollen. He looked like he had been climbed by a mountain cat. When he looked at himself in the mirror over his sink, he looked like he’d been headbutted by the same cat. He thought about his uniform allowance and winced, and then winced again at the pain the wincing caused.
Ichigo took off his kosode and juban. He stood barefooted on a towel in front of the sink wearing only his hakama, filled a mug with cold water, and poured it on his upturned face. It stung every one of the cuts all the way down, soaking the hakama and staining the towel a watery red from the blood, but it felt good, too. He kept doing it until his hair was plastered to his head and his hakama was sopping wet, dripping on his feet.
He heard a knock on his door.
“Go away!”
The door slid open instead, and Rukia stepped inside. Without even thinking twice, Ichigo whipped the mug at her head and she flash-stepped to the side so it bounced off the doorframe, miraculously not shattering in the process.
“What the hell was that about today?” he yelled at her.
“Did you think that I would go easy on you just because of last night?” Rukia asked, a wary look in her eyes. She seemed unaffected by the very minimal number of cuts that were bleeding through the rents in her uniform. The fact that Ichigo had managed to land so few hits on her just made him even more angry.
“No, but that doesn’t mean you had to try to kill me, either. Look at me!” Ichigo gestured at his bare chest and all the seeping cuts. “If I’m lucky I’ll bleed out and faint before I notice how much my face hurts!”
“Don’t be such a baby, Ichigo,” Rukia said, standing there with her arms folded. “You’ve lived through worse.”
Ichigo turned back to the sink, leaning over it with his hands braced on either side of the basin. He closed his eyes, feeling the water from his hair trickling down his face and neck. He gritted his teeth against responding by calling her a cruel bitch. That wouldn’t be constructive. It certainly couldn’t be construed as loving.
“Just leave,” he muttered. “I’m too pissed at you to talk.”
He heard a slight scraping sound, then the door slid open and shut. He looked up.
The mug had been placed on the low table and he was alone. Ichigo blinked suddenly stinging eyes. What the hell had just happened?
It was only later, when he lay there trying to sleep as his mouth throbbed, that Ichigo realized what he had done, and cursed himself.
His first mistake was in thinking that their sparring match would be different somehow from any of the other ones they’d had. Rukia would never give less than 100% in a fight, no matter who her opponent was, or what had happened the night before.
His second mistake was in not realizing that Rukia was testing his resolve, and seeing how easy it might be to push him away.
He had been very easy to push.
Ichigo groaned and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Tomorrow. He would find a way to fix things tomorrow.
**
Ichigo was in a foul mood. His physical injuries had kept him from sleeping well, and since he had been awake anyway, he had mentally beat himself up at how he had behaved with Rukia. His mood wasn’t improved any by the fact that he couldn’t locate her so he could apologize.
In desperation, he sought out Renji at Sixth Company, even though he knew he ran the risk of encountering Byakuya, who might decide on yet another rematch to see if he could finally kill Ichigo.
“Oi, Renji, do you know where Rukia might be?”
Renji looked up from his hated paperwork and glared at Ichigo.
“Out on patrol with the rest of her company, I would guess. It’s their turn. Why?”
“We, uh, we had a fight, and I want to patch things up,” Ichigo wasn’t sure how much to tell Renji. Things were still too new between him and Rukia.
“Meh, you two are always arguing. She gets back tomorrow, you can grovel then,” Renji said, dismissing Ichigo and turning back to his paperwork.
“Big help, Pineapple.”
“Piss off, Strawberry.”
So, that was that.
Ichigo wandered into the cherry orchard, deep in thought.
He had too much pride to just roll over because Rukia felt the need to test him. But if he wanted her to believe in his sincerity, he knew he would have to endure a measure of punishment.
“Man, haven’t I done enough?” Ichigo grumbled to himself, scrubbing his hands through his hair. He looked up, and had an idea. He pulled a bundle of cherry blossoms off a branch.
Making his way to Rukia’s office, he left the flowers in the middle of her desk with a hastily scrawled note: “Please come see me when you get back. Day or night. My door is always open to you.”
That was all he could think of to do, so he went to the library to try and study.
**
The next day passed with no Rukia. Ichigo resisted the urge to stop by her office to see if she was just avoiding him, deciding he’d done as much as he was going to do with the flowers and the note. The rest was up to her. He did have other things to do, after all.
After dinner, Ichigo sat on his steps, leaning against the door of his room, breathing in the spring night and watching the moon rise. He closed his eyes and tried to exhale some of the tension from his muscles.
“I got your note.”
Ichigo opened his eyes. Rukia stood at the bottom of the short set of stairs to his room. She looked dusty and tired. Ichigo got to his feet.
“When did you get back?”
“About a half hour ago,” Rukia said. That guarded look that Ichigo hated so much was back in her eyes.
“Can I get you some water?”
“Actually, yes, that would be very nice. Thank you.” Rukia smiled slightly. Ichigo went into his room and got her a mug of water. When he came back out, Rukia was sitting on the middle step. She took the mug gratefully and drained it without stopping.
“Everything go okay? On your patrol?”
Rukia nodded, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “A couple of small stupid Hollows, nothing more. I had dawn watch.”
Ichigo nodded, understanding why she looked so fatigued. He sat on the top step, legs stretching past Rukia onto the the bottom step.
“What did you want to see me about?” Rukia asked, staring down at the mug she held, instead of looking at him.
“I wanted to see you because I wanted to see you. And because I threw a mug at you the last time I saw you. I wanted to apologize.”
“I deserved it,” Rukia admitted, still not looking at Ichigo.
“Yes. You did. But I still shouldn’t have done it and I’m sorry,” Ichigo said. “Rukia, I get that you’re cautious and maybe scared, but I don’t want you testing me like you did the other day.”
Rukia looked up at Ichigo. Her expression was angry and afraid.
“If that’s what you’re going to do after just kissing me, what’s going to happen the first time we make love? You’ll smother me to death with a pillow?”
Rukia turned scarlet.
“That’s presumptuous of you! And inappropriate! Nothing like that is going to happen unless there is a wedding!”
Ichigo’s jaw dropped. Rukia, in turn, looked mortified at what had just come out of her mouth. He grabbed the sleeve of her kosode before she could even think about running away.
“You’d better come inside,” Ichigo said. “We obviously need to talk.”
He didn’t release Rukia’s sleeve until he had ushered her inside his room and slid the door shut.
“Sit.”
Rukia sat. Ichigo refilled her mug and got himself some water, and then sat across from her.
“We’re going to put aside what you just said, because it’s not the most pressing thing we need to talk about. I’m not going to forget it, but we have other things we need to deal with first.”
Ichigo took a drink of water.
“Rukia, I don’t expect you to treat me differently just because of the other night,” he continued. “And I do actually expect that you’re going to make things difficult for me. But you are not allowed to vent your uncertainty on me the way that you did when we were sparring.”
Rukia nodded, staring at the table.
“If you want to get rid of me, there are simpler ways to do it than nearly killing me. You can just tell me you don’t want this, and I will go away.” Ichigo’s heart ached saying this, but it had to be said. He wasn’t trying to trap Rukia. She had to be with him willingly, or not at all. But he couldn’t go back to being just friends with her. Not now. She had to let him be tender with her without penalty, otherwise this was never going to work.
Without looking up, Rukia whispered, “But where would you go?”
“I don’t know. Back home to the Living World, maybe. I’d find something to do. But if you don’t want me here, I don’t want to be here. I can’t be here.”
Rukia gave Ichigo a look so desolate that his heart ached even more.
“Don’t go.”
Ichigo didn’t let his relief show on his face, but inside him, a knot of anxiety eased.
“I won’t, then.”
Silence stretched between them, taut and humming with words that needed to be said.
“You’re right, I am scared, and uncertain. But it’s not you I am scared of, uncertain about.”
Ichigo stayed quiet, letting Rukia have time.
“Aside from Renji, everyone that I ever loved has died. Some I have even held in my arms and felt the blood run out of them onto me, and their life leaving them, and been powerless to stop it.”
Ichigo drew in a breath as if to speak, and she looked at him sharply, quelling him.
“Even you, Ichigo. I’ve seen you on the ground, in the rain, in a pool of your own blood. I’ve held you, been soaked with your blood, felt your heart slow. And every time, every time, I felt my world turn inside-out and had no idea how I would go on if you were to be gone from me forever.” Rukia’s breath hitched, and Ichigo saw tears standing in her eyes. “It got harder every time. And I don’t know if this is a weakness, to love you so much that I can’t even watch you fight, even though it’s a beautiful thing to see. To run to you after every battle just to make sure you’re still alive.”
Rukia shook her head, the tears flying off her cheeks.
“It’s terrifying, to feel this way. It is easier to put my zanpakuto between us, to only be a warrior. To drive you away with violence. But then, what kind of warrior am I that I run from this, this thing that scares me most of all? Which is better? To love you and possibly lose you, and endure that pain, or to endure the pain of pushing you away, trying not to love you, to never see you again?”
This was the most raw Ichigo had ever seen Rukia, and he didn’t know what to say. Tears ran down his face at her pain. It was hard not to reach out to her and gather her to him, but he held himself still, letting her finish.
“So, yes, I am afraid and I am uncertain. I did try to hurt you, to make you reconsider. And I am sorry, but I don’t know how to do this,” Rukia covered her face with her hands.
Ichigo came around the table on his hands and knees, and pulled Rukia into his arms. She shook with silent sobs. “Rukia, Rukia, Rukia,” he whispered, rocking her.
“How is it that you are so brave? After all you’ve lost?” she asked softly.
“Because hiding myself from the people that care about me is to be only half alive. I remember how it was when it rained in my heart all the time. Looking back, I can see how worried and sad my father and sisters were. How grey and distant everything was. How I pushed everyone and everything away. And then you came, you stopped the rain, you made everything so vivid. I wouldn’t want to give that up for anything. It’s worth any amount of pain to have that.” Ichigo kissed the top of Rukia’s head. “You forget, I’ve held you too, felt your blood flowing out onto my hands. You're the first person I think of when a battle is over, the first one I need to see. I'm so scared of losing you that I can’t even tell you. But if I let that stop me from loving you and all that you are, then my life goes back to being grey and nothing, and I might as well be dead. To live, you have to feel all the things. Pain, love, joy, anger -- everything.”
“Why is this so hard?”
“It isn’t hard. Rukia, do you love me?”
Rukia looked up at Ichigo, tears making tracks through the dust on her face, nose red, and so very, very beautiful to him.
“Yes.”
“Can you at least try to let me be good to you? Without repercussions?”
Rukia hesitated, then said, “I will try.”
“Then that’s all you have to do.”
Rukia shook her head, a little smile on her face. “It can’t possibly be that simple.”
“It really, really is. Simple. Not easy.” Ichigo smiled back.
“A fine distinction, but an important one,” Rukia said wryly. Then, “I ought to go.”
“Can’t you stay for a little while?”
“I...want to, but I shouldn’t. I haven’t even changed from coming back from patrol, I came right here when I got your note. I still have to write my report.”
“You could come back.”
“We’ll see.”
Ichigo felt Rukia distancing herself from him. Tonight had been hard for them both, and he was exhausted, too. If she needed to spend time on her own after her in-depth confession, he understood.
“Okay, well, here,” Ichigo leaned over and fumbled something off one of his shelves, handing it to Rukia. She stared down at it in her hand.
“I don’t like leaving my door unlocked. Take my extra key, so you can come over whenever you want. Even if I’m not here.”
“Thank you,” Rukia said faintly.
“Do you want me to walk you back?”
Rukia gave him a wry look. “I haven’t suddenly forgotten how to get home,” she said tartly. He scowled at her. No chivalry from him, then.
“Okay, fine.”
Rukia stood. She went to the sink and splashed cold water on her face. Then she went to Ichigo and kissed him softly, lips damp and chilly.
“I will do my best to not to push you away,” she said to him.
“I know. I know how hard this is for you, and how hard you’re working. I’ll do my best to be patient.”
Ichigo walked Rukia to the door. She turned and looked up at him, putting a small hand over his heart.
“Thank you for the flowers. I liked them,” she said, and left, giving him a last lingering look as he slid the door shut.
Ichigo collapsed onto his futon. He felt like he’d run a marathon while being beaten with rubber hoses. He rolled onto his face, pillowing his head on his arms, and fell almost instantly to sleep.