Chapter Text
Kurosaki Ichigo dyes his hair black and then disappears exactly 36 hours every month. When he gets back in the afternoon and you see him with some of the black streaks still there—it’s weird. I don’t know why he does it, says Keigo.
“Very ugly, yes,” nods Ishida, who will take any opportunity to say something negative about Ichigo.
And Ichigo, who’s passing by the training grounds high in the afternoon, with some of the black dye streaks very definitely still on his orange hair, looks over at Keigo and Ishida, and mouths: fuck you.
“Come now, Ishida, don’t make the commander mad,” pouts Keigo, looking from Ichigo to Ishida.
“Eat my ass.”
(Ichigo dyes his hair black once a month, sheds his armor to go to Princess Rukia’s kingdom, and pretends he works for a local escort ring for nobles; he makes it look like the princess prefers his services—all a ruse so he could visit her.)
Ichigo dyes his hair black once a month because the guards posted over at her castle, especially at the foot of her tower, are fucking stupid; they would never know an enemy commander is at their doorstep—without fail—every evening of the first full moon every month.
“Come pick a fight with me next week.” Ichigo likes to say this to Rukia every month, at various points during their trysts in her bedroom. But it’s true, it’s their other way of seeing each other (it’s also how they first met—she injured his men and took down his encampment and he hunted her down for it). “I’d like to see you again soon.”
“But you look good in my bed,” Rukia whispers, and knows how it can send powerful chills along his spine, “I like looking at you here, right here, right there.”
Ichigo sighs, Rukia knows how to wield her power. Her hands travel along his back, while he pushes deeper.
“Come see me soon anyway, Rukia.”
Their trysts are very quiet, a little bubble where they are only allowed to speak in whispers.
(Many months ago: in between a slash and a parry, Ichigo thinks of his opponent: they should be having sex instead, but this is fine, too.
“How dare you trespass!” Rukia shouts at him, raising her arm for another slash.
“No one is watching,” Ichigo says quietly, quite annoyed.
“Lies!”
But he is a second early—he stops her arms, reaches out to her face and lightly pecks her cheek, then insists, “ No one is watching, Rukia.”
Rukia looks up, and their eyes meet. They both fully drop the act, it is a very hard thing to do—they’ve been married for a long time.)
This is such a dangerous entanglement, Ichigo thinks—he doesn’t know what to make of the future for an enemy commander and a princess, and yet he is happy to leave in the middle of the night to dance with her.
When their time is over, Ichigo quietly bids goodbye and closes her bedroom door.
He turns around and finds a castle help looking squarely at him.
“She’s sleeping,” Ichigo says immediately, slightly opening the door to show he’s not some sort of a bold, careless assassin.
Back inside, Rukia, in her bed, is softly breathing. A satin silk sheet slides off her bare shoulders.
“I just kept her company,” Ichigo smiles charmingly at the castle help, and adds sheepishly, “It’s a service I provide.”