Romance and Rivalries

Chapter Sixteen
by Rachael

It was completely traumatic. Honestly Yumichika couldn’t say he’d ever met more of a stuck up bitch in all his years – all nineteen of them! By eleven o’clock this morning he’d wanted to murder his agent, he’d wanted to kick someone in the head – he’d wanted to call Ikkaku out of school and ride him until his frustrations faded… And it was because of that bastard photographer! His name was Charlotte Cuuhlhourne; he was someone new Mashiro-sama had bought in.

Not only was he the UGLIEST person Yumichika had ever seen, but he also seemed completely insane. He pranced around and talked about beauty! Beauty – with a nose like that! Bah!

Furthermore, Yumi himself found there was nothing wrong with dressing in a feminine style, he didn’t mind transvestites, but that stupid horse-faced fool took it to the extreme! Imagine wearing all the tight fitted white – flares like THAT on pants – and the crop top! (If he wanted to see a man’s midriff, he’d go and watch Ikkaku and Iba training!) Too much mascara, long seaweed hair – way too much lip-gloss! It wasn’t just the way he looked when he was stationary; it was his whole demeanour. The instant he stepped into the studio, clapping and shaking his rump in such a hideous fashion! It was truly vile – he had to clench his eyes shut and pray breakfast had been eaten long ago enough not to make a ghastly reappearance…

And that wasn’t the worst of it!

That bumbling bitch! He swanned around the studio, like he owned the fucking place! Gasping and gaping – like an ugly fish – telling people crap… ‘Your hair is so darling – but you should curl it for the photos today, sweetie! – Oh my! You look nearly as stunning as me – let’s get you in some shorts!’ After a long argument in the dressing room with Rose-sama, he came out ready would work productively. He had his make-up and outfit done, takes one step onto the set to pose with the others, and Cuuhlhourne puts down his camera and says, ‘I’m sorry; I can’t take a photo of him’. Naturally at first he looked around, thinking ‘How rude, I wonder who he’s talking about’. Only to realize, horrified, that everyone was looking at him with shocked expressions. Rose-sama’s jaw had dropped – and that ugly bastard was staring right at him.

“Me?”

What a witty response… He was sure his voice sounded about an inch tall.

“Yes, you, Yumichi-san, wasn’t it?”

“It’s Yumichika – Ayasegawa to you,” he said stiffly, straightening up and glaring at him, “What seems to be the problem? Why won’t you take my picture?”

“It’s simple,” Charlotte waved a hand out, placing it on his hip, tilting to the side, “I can only take photos of the beautiful – inside and out! Only those with pure hearts and good souls – like mine! A good heart marks the truly beautiful!”

“Cuuhlhourne-san, Ayasegawa-kun is an excellent model,” one of the other photographers spoke up.

“On the contrary, when I look at him,” Charlotte covered his face with his hand as if wounded, his voice tinted with irritating false tears, “I see a very troubled young man with an ugly heart! The sort of young man who only enjoys his superficial looks, judges everyone by them – who never felt sorry for breaking someone’s heart! Oh, I’d even be willing to bet he left a lover for his best friend!”

Shit… was he a psychic of something? It totally wasn’t as bad as that, depending on how you look at it. Bitch.

“You see? The ugliness is there in his face! That dark mushroom of hair! Such an arrogant expression – No, no, no! I simply cannot and will not photograph him! It would be a crime against beauty!”

This was where Yumichika lost his temper, his hands clenched into fists; he pointed one at him, “Your face is a crime against nature!”

The whole room went quiet. He could see a couple of his fellow model’s biting their lips as if trying not to laugh. Rose-sama had his face in his hand.

“How dare you call me ugly? People who call another person ugly are truly the ugly ones!”

“I never used the word ugly! You’re the one who just said it three times!”

“Me and my pure heart are beauty beyond compare – weren’t you listening? So you are cruel, with bad hair and deaf… how very sad.”

“At my nose isn’t crooked to a 90 degree angle!”

“Oh it will be in a minute!”

“Oh I dare you!”

Under normal circumstances, if someone threatened to fight him, he’d laugh, roll his eyes, and make a witty remark to disable their confidence, before walking away. Right now, he was stepping up, squaring up to the larger male, completely ready to punch him in that ugly face!

“Excuse me – wait!” The stage director was attempting to stand between them, frantically attempting to calm down the situation, desperate for some kind of resolve. Which ended in a twenty minute break, Yumichika was so angry he went and sat on his dressing table, flicking through his phone. Legs crossed, eyebrow twitching every time he heard that moron’s stupid horrible voice! It was ugly beyond compare; he kept describing everything in long sentences…

‘This is a photo I had taken of myself last year, I think it carries an element of dazzling, sexual, erotic, scandalous, tremendous, shinning, shimmering, sparkling, acrobatic, chocolate covered, miracle, sweet, ultra-funky, dramatic, romantic, sadistic, exotic, athletic, don’t you?”

Of all those words, and there were a lot of them… Yumichika wouldn’t have used any of them. Perhaps it was hanging around with Ikkaku, who was a name of few words in most situations (excluding when he drank or when he was fighting), but using too many words… was such an ugly way to behave. Especially cramming in so many adjectives… especially as they were inappropriate considering what they were being attached too.

Most of the models were outside; frantically smoking as they tended to do when they had a moment of freedom. Yumichika was texting Ikkaku, when Shuhei came into the studio; he had a memo to deliver to Rose-sama, and looked a little weirded out by the sight of their new photographer prancing around the room. Unfortunately for him, he was noticed as much as the prancing ugly man.

“Oh my!” He rushed to Shuhei’s side, circling him like a vulture, leaning in and attempting to master a look sported commonly by sweet young girls seducing a first love. “Why, hello, are you one of the models?”

Now it would be the height of foolishness to say Yumichika was jealous. But there are some occasions where it’s a simple thing to feel jealous about an ex. He and Shuhei hadn’t ended badly with ‘I hate you’s’, and ‘Bitch die’, they’d ended quite rationally. ‘We had a good run, but I’m graduating and going into a job’ ‘Well, now that you mention it, I was thinking the same thing’, simple and clean-cut. Anyway, it was for these reasons that Yumi would feel a little possessive when it came to Shuhei. After all, he was his first… a little sentimental, but he couldn’t have the man he lost his virginity to, getting hit on by someone so repulsive!

Cuuhlhourne was doing the most idiotic cliché thing! He’d dropped his pencil, and was fretting away, playing with his hair while Shuhei stupidly picked it up for him, unaware that his ass was being gazed upon in such a way!

“Excuse me,” Yumichika spoke up, “Hi,” he stepped in between them, smiling warmly at Shuhei, “You’re here to see Rose-sama, right? Unlucky, he just went off with Hiyori-san,” he was blocking the larger man behind him a little, placing a hand on his ex boyfriend’s upper-arm, gently rubbing the skin, “You can probably find him in his office, Shu.”

“Oh, erm… right.” Hisagi went bright red; perhaps it was because he called him ‘Shu’, Yumichika’s smile brightened (He wasn’t loosing his touch!). “I’ll go and look for him in his office, I owe ya,” he reached out, going to touch his cheek; Shuhei seemed to catch himself doing so, probably out of habit, and instead playfully ruffled his hair.

Yumichika scowled, “Not that hair!”

At this point, as Shuhei left, he heard Charlotte Cuuhlhourne snigger, “Why get upset? It can’t very well get much worse.”

“What did you just say to me?”

“I was stating a fact of beauty… or a misuse of it anyway.”

He laughed, turning to face him, “Your hair looks like a seaweed wig.”

“SEAWEED?” he bellowed furiously, “My long black mane is reminiscent of the beauty of midnight! It’s illustrious! And you – you’d dare compare it to SEAWEED?”

Yumichika smirked; folding his arms and giving him a rather arrogant smirk he normally saved for that crazy girl who lusted for his Ikkaku.

“Oh fine!” Cuuhlhourne protested, pointing at him firmly, his finger inches from Yumichika’s nose, “If that’s how you want to play – your hair looks like an ugly black toad stool, you skanky twit!”

“A toadstool, get real! It’s something called ‘style’; maybe when the doctor’s cure your dementia you’ll get it! And get those huge sausage fingers out of my face!” He slapped the hand aside, “You fugly witch!”

“How dare you touch my hand?”

Of all the things he had planned for his day, at no point did Yumichika expect to be slapped around the face by a transvestite! The last person, who hit him in the face, was Renji’s mental father, who’d done it ‘by accident’. He’d been waiting for the redhead in the Urahara shop, looking at his nails by one of the shelves. Urahara-san was on the other side, he pushed a box forwards a little too hard, and in his haste, it shot the box in front of it off the shelf and smacked Yumichika in the jaw. The shock lasted for about an hour…

Right now, his cheek was tingling in pain, his hands were shaking and he looked completely stunned.

“There’s nothing beautiful about being horrible!” Cuuhlhourne was announcing, “Nothing! You’re clearly a very insecure person, Yumichi-san! The way you threw yourself at that attractive young man earlier shows that you just can’t handle anyone else getting attention. The pure are always loved!”

“It’s YUMICHIKA!” he jerked his hand up to strike him. It wasn’t a very structured move; in fact he missed because Cuuhlhourne saw it coming and jerked out of the way. However his hair didn’t move quickly enough and Yumichika got a fistful of it, which he yanked hard.

“GET OFF ME!”

Cuuhlhourne swung forwards to punch him, just as Yumichika jerked away, stumbling in his heels before becoming stationary, and a clump of cosmic purple hair sticking to his fingernails.

The transvestite lost it around there; he let out an angry growl, a little like a bull, his large muscled arms in front of his body, screaming in fury as he ran at Yumichika. The force of his shove sent them out of one of the fire doors. It began as rather a girly fight, flailing arms and scratching nails, shouting curses and swearing. Then all of a sudden it changed; Cuuhlhourne came at him with terrifying force, aiming a hard punch for his lower rib cage. He hadn’t meant to do it so quickly; he saw the punch and reacted. His hand shot down and diverted the punch swiftly into the wall. Cuuhlhourne howled in pain, and turned, now in full attack mode, extending his palm towards Yumichika’s jaw. It made contact and nearly knocked him down the stairs; he gained his balance and leapt forwards, his leg extending to stamp down on his opponent’s foot, raising his fist to cram against his jaw. Yumichika heard Cuuhlhourne’s neck click, before he felt two fists clasped together bash down against the base of his neck. He stumbled, wincing as he felt the larger man strike him with another vicious backhand.

Yumichika was sure his body hit the wall with such force his face would be damaged, but he couldn’t feel blood on his face so it couldn’t be as bad as that. He spun around to face the other, ducking under the punch coming for his nose, and jerking his palms against his chest, sending the other into the wall, he lunged forwards, grabbing his arm and flipping him onto his back on the floor. His fist hung dangerously above his face as he straddled him.

An hour later as he sat, holding an ice pack to his cheek, Cuuhlhourne beside him, holding an ice pack in the same place in the first aid area; Yumichika wondered if he was a hypocrite for always lecturing Ikkaku about fighting. It was a part of himself he began denying a long time ago. The rough little boy who used to go to karate lessons and boxing club was only available in a few embarrassing photographs and videotapes (chasing after his brothers and, on few occasions, roaring at people (he was two, though the idea of it was still hideous!)). What was he to expect? His two older brothers were big guys… (They had a different father’s; Yumichika’s had been around when he was about three and disappeared again when he was thirteen). His brothers boxed in bars for extra cash and loved a good fight… The sort of family Ikkaku would simply adore. He wasn’t like them… he was like his mother’s side, his aunt, who had moved to Hong Kong a few years ago, had a son, Ruri'iro, who was potentially the image of Yumichika.

His first real modelling job had been when he was five-years-old, in a catalogue selling children’s clothes, he and his cousin had been photographed together because they looked alike. However, to heighten the similarities, the photographer recommended they had the same hair colour (Yumi’s being black with a tint of violet… and Ruri’iro’s being azure), and despite his cousin’s protesting, it was decided that Yumichika’s would be more suitable for the both of them. Nowadays they never spoke, the occasional email with either himself or Ruri’iro Kujaku (now on the cover of most fashion magazines in Hong Kong) bragging about their recent flourish of success). But in his opinion, the whole thing had been blown revoltingly out of proportion; as children they were always quarrelling, Ruri’iro was always bitching at him for one thing or another; his burly brothers, his cruelty (which he had no right to comment on), his excelling at trivial things like kendo and boxing… most of all, Ruri’iro liked to bitch about Yumichika’s eyes, he hated the colour. Yumichika could bitch back with the best of them at such a young age (though whether or not that should really be his claim to fame, he wasn’t sure)… Anyway, because of the hair dye incident, he came up with the nickname Fuji Kujaku (which worked a treat, it drove him completely barmy!). But all had been Childs play, until he accidentally made reference to it last year whilst talking to a reporter.

“So, Ayasegawa-san, I hear you’re related to the Hong Kong sensation, Ruri’iro Kujaku, the model known as the Azure Peacock, is that right?”

It slipped out like word vomit.

“Oh yes, we’re cousins. Fuji Kujaku and I go way back.”

It would have been a little harmless reference, if it hadn’t caught on… the press kept using the nickname in nearly every reference to him. Which was infuriating in itself … but Ruri’iro never forgave him for it. Stupid bitch…

“Hey…”

Cuuhlhourne’s words knocked him out of his nostalgia; Yumichika tilted his head to look at the now much calmer tranny.

“What is it?”

“Where’d you learn to hit like that?”

“Is that any of your business?”

“Do you realize how much concealer I’m going to need to buy?”

* * *

In all his days, he never thought he’d be where he was now. Ikkaku was sat on an expensive leather sofa, with a certain petite beauty at his side, holding an ice pack against his cheek.

It all began after he started going to school again.

He couldn’t believe it, but he was at school, and had been for a week and a half – fuck, it did sound like something you’d say at an AA meeting… It was an infuriating fact, but here he was… at this damn building (missing illegal training sessions with Iba). Nearly a week after that party at Ishida’s… Ikkaku had never seen Zaraki-sama angrier at him, than when he got that phone call. But for some strange reason, he didn’t handle it like he was angry… he handled it, like maybe some crappy ‘Let’s talk about it’ father would. It was totally scary.

“I’ve been going way too easy on you, Ikkaku! You never go to class – I got it out of Iba that you’ve been with him. Geez, do you want to be a delinquent? A real man doesn’t neglect his studies, didn’t I tell ya that?”

In his opinion, it sounded a little forced. He was glad that Zaraki-sama favoured him over the others, even when his behaviour was often worse; he let Ikkaku run training drills and take charge of the new recruits… But the very fact he was favoured, worked right back against his free spirits; he hated letting his Sensei down. He wanted to make him proud by excelling at fighting… So the fact that Zaraki-sama was disappointed enough in him skipping school all the time, to make up some crummy speech about it… well, it made him feel like shit. So for the last week and a half, he’d been attended Karakura High, a little frantically (he was on time and everything, often with his homework). Yumichika teased him, said he was turning into a little school lover; but if it meant he was proving himself to Zaraki-sama, he’d do anything!

And it was hard to be at school. People, like Renji and Ichigo, kept dropping stupid comments like, ‘Ikkaku’s here! Geez – report in from hell – there’s a blizzard’… Even the teachers did it, two of them didn’t bother reading his name out in the register, looked up, saw him, went pale and said, ‘Madarame-kun? Are my eyes deceiving me?’… It was all very agitating. Classes were boring as hell on top of that. You keep getting told off for the dumbest things at school… you have to ask if you want to go take a piss! You have to stay in your assigned seat for a whole hour and ten minutes! Lunch is only an hour and ten minutes long… nobody takes you very seriously… and that damn girl was here all the time!

‘Darling – darling! You’re here!’

There was only so much he could take, especially when taking into account the fact that Renji pissed himself laughing every time she pranced towards them like some sort of demented, high ballerina.

And if none of that was bad enough, Ikkaku found himself sat in the principal’s office… Not for bad behaviour – but for some sort of strange scheme… called the Tutor Program. Now unless they wanted him to show that wimps calling themselves a kendo team how to really use a sword… he couldn’t see why they’d introduce him to such a thing in the first place!

“Now, Madarame-kun, do you know why you’re here?”

“Not especially, sir.”

The man looked down at him, the expression on his face really pissed him off. It was all… simpering? Would simpering be the right word? Yumichika referred to a girl as simpering once, and her face looked a lot like his right now.

“Well, as you’re probably aware, your grades are… suffering, now, your guardian has assured me that it’s due to your frequent absences. There is evidence of you excelling at your last school, where I believe your attendance was 100%?”

In all honestly, it was only 100% because he was rarely ill. Zaraki-sama had told him that a real man was never absent, and naturally, he’d believed it to its full extent. How couldn’t he? He was 11 – if Zaraki-sama told him the sky was fucking orange, he’d tell people it was.

“Err, yeah.”

“Now, as your principal, I’m not going to let a student with potential down. The board were considering your expulsion, but your guardian and I were adamant that you could remain here… if you’re able to follow our conditions?”

This… didn’t sound entirely good.

“So, how about it? Want to hear the conditions?”

“Err… yes… Yes please.”

“Firstly, you are to join our school kendo team and work very hard towards the school achieving victory in the finals this year.”

“Uh-huh.” That wasn’t a bad condition… but Yumichika wasn’t going to like all the time he’d miss out on… training. The kendo team did a lot of training… and away matches.

“And secondly, you are to attend weekly sessions with a student tutor, we have elected for you.”

Aw shit. Ishida… God, don’t let it be Ishida! He clenched his hands together under the table, trying not too look too nervous. “Err… who is it?”

“Hold on, she’ll be here in a moment.”

‘She’? Oh no – oh wait… That crazy woman, Mizuho Asano – she was Student Body President – she was always involved in something mental like this! Shit! If it was her, he didn’t know what he’d do! She wasn’t gonna let him go – he’d never pass!

The door opened and he spun around to see who it was; almost praying that he hadn’t worked up a sweat or something… his racing heart eventually returning to normal as his eyes fell upon a very familiar form. Rukia Kuchiki, all 4’10 of her. Yumi had once described her as very beautiful; he could see where he was coming from, she had a delicate little shape, like a doll or something, and nice features… he once heard Ichigo’s weirdo cousin refer to her as ‘virginal’ and ‘pure’, but that pervert was fucked up in the brain (originally Ikkaku just thought he meant Kuchiki-san looked clean or something).

“Ah, Kuchiki-san, thank-you for joining us,” he stood up and offered her a chair, “You’re familiar with Madarame-kun, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Ah, that was it. Kuchiki-san didn’t like him at all; she was close with Renji so naturally she’d resent him and Yumichika a lot. He wouldn’t resent her for it, she was loyal – that was never a bad quality in a person. If he recalled correctly, on the day Renji awkwardly hugged him before retreating to the bathroom, Rukia had shot him one of her glares and said, “Just because Renji has forgiven you, doesn’t mean I have. You’re the worst, Ikkaku Madarame.”

“Of course, you’re in the same home room class, correct? Well, I’m sure you two can work out a study pattern together? Madarame-kun, I leave you in Kuchiki-san’s very capable hands. Good luck to the both of you.”

* * *

The hardest thing about being friends with boys was, that on so many occasions, you needed to be the responsible one. You had to be the irritating one when your sensible head just knew it was the right time to say, “I think we should go to school tomorrow instead of sitting around drinking vodka in Hisagi-sempai’s apartment – I mean, he doesn’t even know we’re doing this”, or, “Renji, you’ve had one too many”. Worse than that was how your friends look at you like you’re the parent taking away a treasured toy or fun activity. Once, Renji had looked up at her, with blood-shot eyes, stinking of… God knows what Matsumoto-san had convinced him to buy… and said, “You used t’ be fun, Rukia. You’ve changed!” Admittedly, her brother’s influence put a lot of pressure on her… more so now than ever before; but she’d never been one to do stupid things. Drinking alcohol at fifteen was hardly something to call the police about, especially considering a bottle of some brightly coloured alcoho-pop in comparison to Renji’s… tab, might be the better choice of word. She wasn’t like the others in that respect, most of the time, it was her and Ichigo looking after everyone else. But she hadn’t changed her principals, like Renji would often imply, her friend’s leisure activities had just gotten a bit more daring.

She didn’t enjoy being the one that worried all the time. By all means, she could be the stupid redhead who drank and sang all the time… But at the same time, their happiness was a blessing in itself. Nothing had been worse than being sat at Renji’s side as he mumbled miserably into his hands, “I was never good enough for him”… or Ichigo’s shaking arms around her shoulders as he admitted for the first time, “I-I think I’m in love with him – and it’s scaring me so fucking bad!”

It wasn’t a burden to balance their troubles on top of her own, but seeing them both happy gave her… what she assumed, was similar to motherly pride. But at the same time, she despised the idea of making them worry. Ichigo took everything so hard, he took all of the bad, hard things and carried it around on his shoulders; his mother’s death, his father’s loneliness, his sister’s troubles, his own ambitions… Renji was similar that way.

So it seemed cruel to tell them, either of them, that at the end of term her brother intended to pull her out of Karakura High and have her privately tutored at home. He mentioned something about Finishing School when she was sixteen. After what happened at Uryu’s, he fully intended to have her out of school by the following day… but she’d lied and told him she was enlisted in the Tutoring Program, and therefore couldn’t leave until the end of term at best. The next day, being one of few to actually go to school, she’d joined the program; anything to keep her with her friends just a little while longer. She couldn’t stand up to her brother. It would be like the wind howling at a mountain in attempt to make it bow; a worthless, fruitless effort.

All she could do was try and prolong the time she could spend here. Though, she had to admit, attempting to force knowledge into Ikkaku Madarame’s head, was certainly not her idea of a good time.

“Hey, are you guys hanging out now?” Orihime asked brightly, swinging her school bag over her shoulder, almost dangerously hitting Uryu, who was putting away his sewing kit.

“I should be,” Ichigo said, shrugging his shoulders, flicking his hair out of his eyes, “I’ve got time to kill.”

“Not with Lover-Boy?” Renji taunted as he rummaged through his locker. It was lost likely he was trying to raise his spirits before he went to volunteer at the hospital again. Kisuke-san was holding him to it, his way of paying off his debt to Uryu’s father for the state he’d left his house after the party.

Ichigo rolled his eyes; “He’s seeing a client, if you must know. What about you, Chad? You doing anything tonight?”

“No. I’ll hang out,” the larger man said simply, closing his locker.

“I have to volunteer,” Renji groaned, stretching his arms, “I can’t believe this, it’s been a week and a half! I was sure Kisuke would have dropped this by now! Yesterday an old lady tried to get me to sing to her when I gave her the meal.”

“It was her birthday,” Uryu cut in, “That sort of morale raising procedure is common place at the hospital.”

She couldn’t help but notice that Uryu and Renji were strangely awkward around each other. Neither of them gave the other any eye contact, and Renji went a sort of funny colour whenever the boy with glasses addressed him directly. If she wasn’t so worried about what her brother had planned for her, she’d had asked him about it.

“Well… whatever,” Renji suddenly straightened up, glaring across the corridor to two people heading down the corridor towards Ichimaru-Sensei’s office. One of them was Ichimaru-Sensei himself, looking quite casual, jacket swaying behind him in his leisurely stride. Behind him was Kira-kun, carrying his teacher’s books, and what appeared to be a cup of coffee. To anyone who didn’t know the pair, you’d assume mean Ichimaru-Sensei was making poor Kira-kun carry his books for him. However, it was much more likely, from the pleased look on the blond’s face, that he’d insisted to carry those books. It was sweet… she remembered what it was like to have a crush on an older man. Her slight pained smile passed her face for a second, before disappearing like the flash of a photo in time.

“I guess that means Izuru won’t be joining you,” Renji said loudly, raising his tone just to catch Kira-kun’s eyes, before the slimmer male disappeared into the office, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Geez, man, what’s gotten into you?” Ichigo retorted, “You’ve got it in for Kira lately, haven’t you? I told you last week, you’re paranoid, Renji.”

“I do not! I’m not being paranoid, I’m frickin’ worried about him.” The redhead snapped back at him, “In fact, he shouldn’t be alone with that fucking creep!” He slammed his locker door shut and began to make his way across the hall to the office.

Ichigo’s arm shot out and grabbed him, hauling him back towards the lockers, “Dude, I think Kira would die of shame if you go in there, yelling out your delusions. Cut it out.”

She glanced at them curiously for a moment as Ichigo dragged Renji off into a corner away from the others, rolling her eyes, their loud voices barely more than hissed whispers. Orihime obstructed her view, hands clasping onto hers, “What about you, Rukia? You want to hang out too?”

“Oh me? No, I have tutoring,” she rolled her eyes, “Lucky me.”

So here she was, sat beside Ikkaku Madarame at the study table, drawing out an awkward diagram of Chappy travelling thought space, as a vague explanation of the solar system.

“So, do you get it?” she said, crossing her arms now she’d finished colouring in the grey Chappy rabbits of Pluto. Taking one look at his face, she’d have to say he was more confused than he was originally.

“Err… no,” he said after a moment’s pause.

“I don’t know how to simplify it any more.”

“Well… maybe you could stop drawing rabbits?” He paled seeing her look, “Err – I mean… you could stop drawing… so many?”

“They give the diagram character.”

“Look, I can’t tell the difference between the Red Chappy’s of Mercury and the Red Chappy’s of Mars! You used the same red crayon!”

“Well… that’s your problem.”

“Geez, come on. I know you don’t like me, but you can at least teach me properly! I know what this is about!” He bashed his big hand down on the table, “I’ve had enough of this! I don’t need to take this from you! Yeah, I did wrong to Renji, you think I don’t feel guilty every time I’m around him, o-or when I look at Yumichika? Renji’s my best friend!”

“You sure treat your friends well,” Rukia turned her head away from him. The frustration that had been building up inside her for nearly two weeks suddenly bubbled dangerously to explosion levels. She wanted to fight, and who was better to fight with than Ikkaku Madarame? “You should feel guilty! He let you off lightly and you know you didn’t deserve it!”

Ikkaku stood up from his seat, “No offence, but me and Renji are men, we get on with things!”

Oh she’d heard that crap before: men who aren’t afraid of challenges, men who rant about protection and not being afraid. It was infuriating and… deep down; it touched a nerve inside her, unlike any other…

A girl will always remember the first boy she had a crush on. Or the first boy she kissed… or something like that. But that wasn’t the only reason she’d never forget him. Growing up Rukia was raised in a foster care home, missing a sister she scarcely remembered. Her best friends were a group of boys; Renji and her were as thick of thieves even at five. Whenever she went somewhere, she ran there, often racing, she could climb trees faster than any of the others; her only femininity came in her favouritism of skirts and dresses, though they were always ripped from climbing and running. If someone were picking on a smaller kid, Rukia would be the first to go and defend him, sometimes even getting into very one-sided fights over it. She wasn’t a violent child; she just wouldn’t stand for bullying. That was why she was originally befriended Hanataro. They knew each other from school, he was three years older than her, but he was small and skinny, very quiet and shy and allergic to every thing. The bigger boys were always picking on Hanataro Yamada. He was lovely, but the boys found him a little pathetic. She’d caught Renji giving him exasperated looks when the older boy trailed behind them on the playground, or fell down, exhausted after three girly push-ups.

*flashback*

Kaien Shiba worked in the foster home; he was younger than the other who worked there. He wore a wedding ring and tight fitted black t-shirts with jeans on his first day, he was in his late twenties when he started working at the care home, Rukia was nine years old. It was the first time her face went red over a guy. He was a good person; he was kind and good-natured. He never looked down on you, he treated everybody the same. When some of the older and more traditional care workers would say, ‘Rukia-chan, you are not to go swimming with the boys. Go in the smaller pool with the other girls’, Kaien would say, ‘Hey, Rukia, race you to the diving board!’. He was a wonderful man. He had such a wide carefree smile and loud friendly mannerisms. A major contrast from his terrifying beautiful sister, and his brash broad-shouldered little brother. He used to drive her and Renji around in his big expensive red car from school and to McDonalds. He didn’t call the police, or tell the old man who ran the orphanage when he caught Yama peeking in on his younger sister (though Rukia thought he’d totally deserved it). He’d had a wife, but she died a few years ago. When Renji asked him about his wedding ring and the photograph of the pretty dark haired woman on his desk, there was sadness in his eyes. Such a look made her want to put his arms around him and make him smile.

Renji could be such a little bastard teasing her about it. “Rukia, it’s your favourite person,” he’d whisper, making kissing noises into her ear. Frantically, she’d hit him into silence before Kaien spoke to them.

It was all innocent, he thought she was a sweet little kid, and being nine of ten, she’d wonder how the name Rukia Shiba sounded, telling herself that ten and twenty-five sounded bad… but twenty-one and thirty-six sounded liable.

Kaien Shiba was twenty-seven years old when he died.

It was during the adoption process, the six months it took for Byakuya to become her legal guardian. A man came to the foster home, he was in his forties; she remembered thinking he looked a lot like the man she’d been told to call ‘Brother’. The older man stood in the playground for a few minutes, before approaching them, ruffling her hair, bending down and saying, “You’re Rukia-chan, aren’t you?”

Normally, a strange man touching her would have terrified her. But she and Renji stood, almost transfixed. She remembered nodding, unable to find the right words as she looked back at those green eyes. He looked… so familiar.

Kaien came out of his office and onto the playground, “Rukia, Renji, come on inside. Recess is over,” he headed to them, offering the man a hand, “Can I help you?”

She’d wanted to stay and ask about the man, but Renji was tugging on her sleeve. They’d watched from the window as Kaien lead the man inside, and listened as the two of them reclined into the office.

It would only be later when she found out that the strange man on the playground was her father, Koga Kuchiki.

Koga Kuchiki married into the Kuchiki family, his wife passed away shortly after Rukia was born. He had little time for his children, she was later told by the maid in her room, when she asked about her father. They also said that he’d loved his wife a lot, but there was always a rift between them. Koga Kuchiki left the Kuchiki family, taking his daughters, Hisana, and baby Rukia with him. He later abandoned them and two years later Hisana Kuchiki died in hospital from an illness that had plagued her since early childhood. It was rumoured that Koga Kuchiki had a mistress and he abandoned his family to be with her; though as far as Rukia was aware, no such mistress attended her father’s funeral two years ago when he died in prison.

He came to the orphanage that day with Rukia’s birth certificate, explaining he was her father and he wanted to take her into his care. His motives for this was never explained, but Kaien remained adamant that after her sister’s death, Hisana made it clear that Byakuya, her brother, was to become Rukia’s legal guardian. If Koga had a problem, he was to discuss it with his son. Rukia remembered watching the man leave angrily, slamming the door behind him. She watched from the window as he remained on the playground, looking up at the building. He looked… sort of lonely; she’d pitied him for a moment… just a moment.

She was told that before he was married, her brother Byakuya had been a fiery young man. He’d inherited a passion and a temper from his father. Their father had been a clever and impulsive man; he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Later that night he broke into the foster home, not intending to leave without Rukia. He’d noticed that the kid who lived on the second floor had his window open at night; that was how he broke in. He crept up into the house, knowing where her room was from the colourful diagram set up on the bottom floor.

She remembered waking up when she felt someone in her room, thinking it was Renji, who was always coming into her room at night when he couldn’t sleep; she sat up in bed, and gone to throw one of her slippers at him. Rukia couldn’t remember a time where her blood had ran more cold than it did that night as she saw the big shadowy figure by her wardrobe. Koga had been stuffing her things into her school bag. It had been such a compelling feeling she was too afraid even too scream. Her hands went over her mouth and she drew back in fright.

“Don’t be scared, Rukia,” he whispered in a low voice, “I’m just getting your things. We’re going home.”

In the back of her mind, she kept thinking, ‘God, please don’t let Renji come in – please let him sleep well tonight’. Her heart almost stopped when she heard her bedroom door open, followed by a tired groan of, “Rukia, you up?”

He froze as he saw the man in her room, and instantly turned his head to the corridor to scream. She did scream when the man’s big hand shot out and clamped over Renji’s mouth. He knocked him into the wall and dropped him to the floor as though he was silencing a rag doll rather than a ten-year-old boy.

“Renji!”

She had gone to rush to him, when she felt the man seize her by the back of her nightshirt. His face close to hers as he hissed, “Now you be quiet, Rukia. You wouldn’t want to wake any of the others, would you? We’re going now, sweetheart.”

She remembered closing her eyes, just because she was scared of looking at his, so bright and precise, so unnerving. She remembered being too afraid to cry properly, merely whimpering soundlessly into her hand. He took her other hand and pulled her along after him as he rushed down the stairs, her feet stumbling as he picked up his speed. They were at the front door when the office door opened, and she saw Kaien Shiba for the last time.

“Please, Mr Kuchiki, let her go.”

“Get out of my way!” He’d taken something out of his jacket, but she couldn’t see what it was from this angle.

“Listen, you can’t do this.”

“You stay out of our business. She’s my daughter.”

“You’re scaring her,” he raised his hands up, “If you do this, your son won’t allow you to see her at all. There are other options.” He was looking at the man, but his eyes kept jumping to Rukia, trying to reassure her, trying to stop her from crying.

The man let go of her hand, and for a second, she thought Kaien had persuaded him. She was so relieved, he’d calmed him down, she could run to his arms and let him calm her down and make everything right.

“I said move!” Koga Kuchiki had produced a gun from the pocket of his jacket, and shot Kaien three times in the chest. It all happened so fast it took her a moment to even scream. She heard the shots, she saw the blood, and she saw Kaien fall and then she saw the gun. God, she’d screamed then, she’d cried and rushed to him, clinging his head to her chest and screamed. She was eleven years old; she’d never felt more helpless.

Koga Kuchiki tried to jerk her to her feet, but she wouldn’t let go of him. She paid no attention to the sirens outside, the shouts of policemen. Kaien had called the police before leaving the office; he’d heard Renji hit the floor. All of that she was told later.

A brave man died in her arms that night.

Her and Renji attended the funeral; he had his arm around her shoulders, the man who owned the children’s home stayed at their side. She remembered feeling completely numb. Her brother didn’t have time to console her; he was too busy trying to smooth over his father’s crime. He made peace with the Shiba family; he made sure his father was locked up. He blamed Rukia for the scandal, she was sure he did. At Kaien’s funeral, she remembered crying into Renji’s shoulder, she remembered how her legs trembled. They put flowers on the grave he shared with his wife. Rukia remembered looking across at Kaien’s family, his tall and beautiful sister so stiff and grim, her shaking hand on her sobbing little brother’s shoulder. Everything felt dark, like the entire colour had been sapped from the world.

A lonely day…

*end flashback*

“That’s a load of rubbish!” Rukia snarled angrily at Ikkaku, “Just because Renji says he’s over it, doesn’t mean you can tell he’s lying!”

“Oh – just stop it. It’s got nothing to do with you!”

Rukia pushed him, “Don’t tell me what to do!”

“Hey!” He put his arms up in front of him, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

That was when she broke down. Her brother’s pressure, his words, “I’m taking you out of that school. Those impudent boys you call your friends are unfitting company for a Kuchiki.” It had terrified her, more than anything had in such a long time. God, she’d wanted to tell somebody. She’d wanted to hear someone, Renji… Ichigo… someone to tell her it could be worked out, someone to say, “He’ll change his mind. We’ll fix this, Rukia.”

Ichigo was finally happy. Renji was always… on the go. Last week she’d rung Hanataro, she’d always been able to talk to him. Hanataro who was so gentle and so unwaveringly devoted, but even he had been busy, he was laughing, happy, in the middle of cooking with his flatmates he’d said. She couldn’t mess him around when he was happy. It was such a damn lonely feeling. It almost made her want too… break down.

That was where it happened… Rukia Kuchiki burst into tears in front of Ikkaku Madarame, crying like a little girl with her hands over her face. She could imagine he was looking horrified and stunned. After a moment, he reached down to touch her shoulders.

“Shit – shit… are you…? God – I’m sorry!”

After a little while, as she sat down on the sofa, wiping her eyes on a handkerchief he’d produced from his jacket. It was wisteria, and smelt like lavender, leading to her suspicions that it belonged to Yumichika. He was trying to be a gentleman, his arm stiffly around her shoulders. She told him; he was the first person she told, barely able to believe herself as the words left her lips. “M-My brother’s pulling me out of high school at the end of term.”

He looked down, a little concerned, “Have you… talked to Renji? Or Ichigo, you guys are close right?”

“I haven’t told anyone,” Rukia mumbled into her hands, wiping her face, “I can’t stand up to my brother… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

Ikkaku shook his head, removing his arm, “It’s nothing. You’re upset… I mean, you haven’t told anyone? Why can’t you just tell your brother you’re happy at this school? I mean, he’s got to have been young once, right?”

Rukia shook her head timidly, “He’s adamant about it. He picked me up after Uryu’s party… he said he was taking me out of school the next day, but I lied and said I was in this tutoring programme.”

“He’s forcing you to do something you don’t want too though, right? He’s making you drop out of Karakura High? That hardly seems fair, does it? Rukia, he’s your brother, I’m sure he’d listen if you explained it.”

She tensed as she heard footsteps heading towards the study, her brother stepped inside; distaste instantly crossing his face as his eyes settled on Ikkaku.

“Hello, brother. How was your day?” Rukia asked meekly, “This is Madarame-san, I’m tutoring him for extra credit.”

“Good evening, Rukia. My day was productive. I wish you luck with your studies,” he turned to walk out of the room.

Ikkaku instinctively noticed how he didn’t once look at his sister, but his lip curled slightly at Ikkaku’s scruffy sleeves and half unbuttoned shirt. This guy pissed him off; he was one of those… snob types. He was clearly insensitive to the needs of his sister; he cast a glance back at Rukia, who was looking at her hands. She was so respectful of him, more like a servant to her master than a sister should be to her brother. It pissed him off really bad!

“Hey, Mr Kuchiki,” he stood up, catching the door before the older man could close it, “I’ve got something to say to you.”

Rukia had leapt up and grabbed onto the back of his shirt. Recoiling only when her brother turned and looked Ikkaku up and down with obvious disgust on his face, his grey eyes settling on the grubby hand on the paintwork of his white door. He looked like he was thinking about sending the butler or someone up to clean it after his sister’s pupil left.

“Oh, do you?”

“Yeah, I think you should have a bit more respect for your sister. I mean –”

“I believe, Madarame-san, our family is none of your business.”

The way he spoke was like he was a little stunned someone like Ikkaku would even try speaking to him. Everything about this man was getting on his last nerve. He took another step towards him, “I don’t care. She doesn’t want to leave Karakura High; all her friends are there. Can’t you cut her some slack? She’s not a bad kid –”

“Need I remind you; it’s none of your business. I believe I am responsible for creating the best opportunities for my sister. Rukia will see I’m doing what’s best for her in the end.” He sounded irritated.

Ikkaku shook his head, “You’re being cruel. You know full well she won’t argue with you!”

“Do you really think I’d ever require the opinion of something like you?”

Now that was it!

“Wait just a minute!” He reached out and grabbed the older man by the shirt, yanking him towards him. Or he would, if a pale hand hadn’t shot out seconds after he made contact – and caught him across the face, smacking him with such force he fell back and onto the floor. He’d ripped the older man’s shirt as he fell, too stunned to really acknowledge he’d been struck.

Shit!

Ikkaku had shakily got to his feet, “Why you -!”

“Stop it,” Rukia stood in front of him, her hands gripping his shoulders. She turned to her brother, saying something very quickly and very hurriedly. He didn’t catch what it was, he was suddenly aware that his mouth was stinging. His tooth had come loose… shit… it couldn’t be from that nasty swipe… It was probably from the weekend, he picked a fight with some nasty gang boss, beaten him to a frickin’ pulp too! Ouch… he spat the tooth into his hand, his mouth dripping with blood.

“Give a number to Maria,” Byakuya Kuchiki snapped angrily, “Have someone responsible for him come and collect him.”

Leading to where he was, sat on a plush sofa beside Rukia Kuchiki, holding something cold to his cheek. It was bruised up… that guy could be one hell of a kung-fu master… which made him wonder if the other had any professional training. He winced to himself, “Shit… I’m sorry,” he mumbled after a few moments.

“It’s fine,” she admitted.

“No, I probably just made things worse for you,” he groaned, moving away from the ice-cold bag against his mouth.

“At least you had the guts to try. Thank-you,” Rukia smiled at him very gently, wincing as she looked up, “Oh, by the way, Maria said to tell you that a… Kenpachi Zaraki is coming to get you.”

Okay… now he was in trouble.

* * *

He never thought a seemingly dull morning could end like this. Luppi glanced at the ticking clock on the high wall above the door of his office. Wow, only 11:10 am. He hadn’t wanted to come in this morning; who’d want too, in general? Luppi hated working from seven – nobody was here! Ulquiorra was bad company too, he went upstairs to Aizen-sama’s office, lording it up over everyone and organising events and cases… like he was so important.

Not only that, but the only person able to, in reasonability, cover for him was Szayel, who’d probably rather burn in hell. Luppi found the whole Szayel thing both something irritating and something to fear. Sure, Luppi probably shouldn’t have slept with Nnoitra, and ruined his and Szayel’s three year relationship… but that was ages ago! Geez – how long could you hold a grudge? In all seriousness, it was the height of stupidity! But still… he didn’t dare confront the pink haired man about it. It would be utter madness to demand forgiveness. Szayel could do voodoo, it was a well-known fact. He’d heard the rumours. He’d suffered it. Two months after he slept with Nnoitra, he started pissing blood – which Szayel mysteriously knew about – and twenty minutes after Nnoitra told him he’d cheated on him, he fell down some stairs and broke his ankle! If that wasn’t undeniable evidence, he didn’t know what was! For these reasons, Luppi would bite his tongue and bear it in silence. Szayel only did petty things anway, like forget Luppi needed a paycheque like everyone else, or holding the door for others, but closing it so it bruised three of Luppi’s toes…

No, no… this morning had been beautifully good! It began at 8; he’d found a man skulking around in the records room, browsing through the archives. Well, it had come up on the sensors, and he’d gone to check it out, rather begrudgingly. He checked the pass submitted for entrance, and peculiarly, it said that Ichimaru Gin was inside. Which just couldn’t be the case… Gin-san would, as he always did on his visits, go and sit in Aizen-sama’s office or bother whoever was on duty.

In fact, he’d half expected a prank to blow up in his face the instant he entered… But no, he walked into the archives and found an unusual looking man with short blonde hair just rummaging through important documents.

Well being the forgetful type, he couldn’t do what Ulquiorra told him to do in the off chance of an intruder in Arrancar, browsing through private things (pick up his walkie-talkie and call someone else for help), as he’d forgotten his walkie-talkie... So the next best thing was in order – he pretended he had a gun!

**

Shinji had waited a week before he took Gin-san’s rather subtle hint… he snuck into the building, like a rattlesnake – like a mole! He got into the Arrancar archives without too much difficulty; he was planning on finding something nasty – something perhaps… illegal, that Sosuke Aizen was up to his teeth in… or something – anything really, that would give him an edge. Aizen would regret what he did… Nobody called Shinji Hirako a whore!

His plan was going perfectly… until some strange androgynous being run towards him, yelling something about being in possession of a gun. It as aggravating – not only had he discovered a file titled: VIZARD – but he was just downloading a file onto his Blackberry, titled ‘X’. He’d wasted nearly twenty minutes breaking the security lock; a lock that only fuelled his suspicions that it was something… illegal.

Victory had been his! Or it would have been… No, he was pinned against the wall by what he guessed was a boy, who was holding his arms painfully behind his back, still threatening to have a gun for whatever demented reason.

**

It had been love at first sight! He’d had him pinned to the wall in such a compromising position!

**

“I don’t care if you have a gun! Fucks sake – get off me!” Shinji protested furiously, turning his head towards him, “I’ll sue!”

“Yeah? Well, I’m a lawyer! So fuck you!”

“What the – just get off, are you deaf?”

“I’ll ask the questions here! At Arrancar, we don’t take kindly to people snooping!”

“I wasn’t snooping! I have a pass!”

“A pass belonging to Ichimaru Gin. You don’t look at all like him.”

“Listen t’ me, ya strange little man!”

“Didn’t you hear me? I have a gun! I could shoot you!”

“That’s illegal!”

Shinji jerked his head back, smacking the feminine man in the jaw and turning to face him, pointing accusingly, “See! I knew ya didn’t have a gun!”

Luppi clung to his jaw aching… not the worst he’d had… but owwey! He rubbed it hard, then paled as the other pointed out his… obvious lack of gun. When he used to be friendly with Nnoitra, he’d told him once… he said, ‘Luppi, you look like a fucking woman. If anyone threatens ya, pretend you have a gun.’

“I can still report you!” he said coldly. “There’s a camera in here… somewhere. You can get locked up for trespassing and stealing,” he gestured with his head towards the Blackberry, approximately 76% downloaded.

Okay… now his hands were tied. He knew Ulquiorra-san would be in this morning; as whenever Vizard had some sort of interaction with Arrancar, it was always that guy they sent. If it was for his people skills, they’d really fucked that up. He’d never met anyone who was so void of… everything! If it had been Ulquiorra confronting him in the archives room, he probably could have left, Ulquiorra constructively negotiating Shinji out of anything he’d taken… but this guy was different. He was immature and crazy. He had pink nail polish on, a pixie-cut and very tight-fitted pants… also what appeared to be, high heels. Was this like one of those times, where you had to flatter your way out of a situation?

“Hold on… ya don’t have to report me.”

Luppi’s eyes narrowed, “I don’t? Err… yes, yes I do.”

“No… you see… I had a reason for coming here.”

“And what was that?”

“You’re my first love.”

The instant he said it, he regretted it. Geez – why was that always his first choice?! What in the name of hell did he say that for? Nobody was going to believe it! He looked up at the smaller man, expecting to see a sarcastic expression. But no… he had his hand over his mouth.

“I erm… I can’t stop thinkin’ about ya… since I first saw ya. We passed in the street, yer beautiful.” He let out a few cheesy lines, praying it would be enough to earn him some safety, some method of a penniless escape.

Luppi took a step forward, “You do?”

“Yes,” he said firmly, praying it didn’t sound like a lie.

“W-Wait! I can’t get involved so fast! I need to test – what month were you born in?”

“July – ” He didn’t get to finish his sentence, because at that moment the other man threw himself at him, kissing him hungrily, pushing both of them back against the archives folder. Shinji didn’t know what the hell that was about… nor did he particularly like the way the other was wearing cherry flavoured lip-gloss… but it would be fools game to push him away now.

Luppi pulled back, panting against his lips, “I read in my horoscope today that I’d meet a handsome stranger born in July! That must be you! You’re handsome if you close your mouth!”

That was… mighty offensive. When he was a kid he bashed his mouth against a door and his teeth grew in crooked… they were fixed with braces when he was a teenager, but they did give him a very… ‘Why so serious’ look.

“Err, thanks.”

He was about to pull away, when the smaller man pushed him onto his back on the door, straddling his hips, “We should fuck,” he leant in, sucking down on Shinji’s ear. This was getting creepy… he didn’t much want to sleep with this… odd man, he thought about voicing this with some watered down excuse, until he felt the soft pressure of teeth against a particular spot on his neck. Shinji let out a shuddered moan, his hands automatically rising up to take the other man’s hips… one thought flashed through his mind… Why the hell not?

“What’s your name?” Luppi purred, reaching down to rub between his legs, fingers fumbling against his belt buckle, “I’m Luppi Trepadora.”

His name was NOT a good thing to give away. “Ichigo Kurosaki.” He’d already said, half wondering why the hell he had? Sure he’d been pissed at Ichigo for ignoring his calls… but he’d just given his name to a crazy man. Oh well, not much he could do about it now. Shinji raised a hand and smacked down against the petite backside above him; inwardly wincing at how it almost felt like he was getting off with a semi-pubescent girl… If it got him out of the shit… it would be worth it.

“H-Hey, Luppi,” he murmured, rubbing his hands up and down his sides, “Luppi, after this… delete the tape of me in here, please? Or just remove it… ya can keep it… for later?” he laced the word against his ear seductively.

“Deal,” the other mumbled, half way through unbuttoning his own shirt, “Of course I will, Ichigo.”