Watching and Waiting

Disclaimer: I don’t own Bleach; it was created by Tite Kubo, and is owned/licensed through Shonen Jump. I make no money writing this fan fiction, which means no harm to the anime/manga.
A/N: this was the original version of what I wrote at least 3 months ago, which became Admissions under the Moon, where Renji tries to tell Rukia how he really feels. You can see this as a prequel to that.

Title: Night Angel

Pairing: Implied Renji/Rukia, Renji/Misato Ochi

Theme: Romance, UST


Renji had seen ‘motion pictures’ from time to time, though not always in his gigai. Many times, it was by simply walking among living humans without them having a clue he was there. As a Shinigami, he had his own sojourns and duty into the ‘human world’. His curiosity often got the best of him and he would walk through walls much as Rukia had done when Ichigo first saw her that fateful night. Within Renji lived a mischievous streak. He saw humans as inferior beings that required Soul Reaper care, but they were little more than pets or livestock. On the other hand, property that required maintenance. The concerns of humans were not of much interest to Soul reapers save as a form of amusement to watch when waiting for hollows. Many would perch on their vantage points and wait from time to time.

Nobody said that Soul reapers were forbidden to look and watch what humans did between hollow kills. It amused Renji that he could walk through walls and sit in chairs watching humans eat and cluster around their television sets. Many hollow activities could cause what humans called ‘poltergeists’, but it was sometimes the work of a bored soul reaper as much as a restless ghost.

Therefore, he had seen television shows while creeping through people’s homes. Alternatively, smelling their strange an exotic food. Until he had been recalled to Soul Society and was promoted to Vice Captain under Byakuya Kuchiki. Then his patrols on earth ceased. Some of his colleagues were perverts who loved creeping through women’s bedrooms and seeing people as they dressed or showered. Urahara was infamous for doing that. Not that it was what got him exiled.

Renji missed the freedom of movement through solid matter when confined to a gigai. So having to live in it 24/7 gave him a greater appreciation for what Rukia had to endure. Only those occasional humans like psychics and mystics who could see them would stop a Soul Reaper from becoming the ultimate peeping tom. Alternatively, a sense that such activities were beneath them. Soul reapers did have sex lives. However, some of the nobles thought such nonsense was not in keeping with proper Soul Reaper etiquette. Byakuya would eschew that line of thought. As a Vice Captain of Division Six, Renji could not afford to be caught spying on some naked human in a shower.

Yet he watched humans do other things. This helped form his disdain for their foolishness. Therefore, when he happened to step through the walls of one of the apartments he found it a bit of a surprise that she was sniffling over something. He recognized her from where Rukia and Ichigo went to school. Glancing at the letters on her desk he read the name Misato Ochi. Normally cheerful to everyone else, she had a much quieter and contemplative side.

Renji’s first impulse was to snort in disgust at the weakness of human emotions. Realizing she was making odd marks on a stack of heavily piled papers he stopped to watch. With each successive one, he saw her dab away tears. Then she rose from her stack of papers and wandered into her bathroom. Reaching into a metal cabinet, she removed a small bottle, and removed her glasses. Tipping her head back, she then held aloft the bottle and dripped two drops into her eyes. It then dawned on Renji that she had not been crying after all. She seemed perfectly composed.

He recognized the words ‘allergy drops’ on the bottle and snickered. Things were not always, what they appeared to be on the face of things. Snickering ironically, he turned to duck out of the bathroom. However, he saw sudden movement as the middle-aged woman began to unbutton her blouse. He caught himself staring as the halves of the shirt parted revealing a strange undergarment different from those the female soul reapers wore. No bandaging to bind the breasts, just silk cups of fabric wrapping around the three dimensional curves of soft flesh. Yet what caught his attention was the elaborate face of a handsome human gracing overtop Misato’s left breast, staring back soulfully. Perhaps some longhaired singer idol the woman immortalized on her flesh. Despite his mind telling him it was just a human and make that a middle-aged human, Renji stared.

Dark brown eyes behind transparent thick glasses that reminded him of some the sour reappears wore stared at the woman’s reflection in the mirror. Her long dark hair was twisted up into a fashionable bun with multiple barrettes. Renji shifted so he stood just inside the bathroom door, watching the woman bend over and grab a strange brush and a flat tube. He had seen humans clean their teeth before, but when she leaned forwards, the ample cleavage made him stop.

“How pathetic am I to watch a human half undressed? Has it been THAT long since I got lucky?” Renji shook his head.

His eyes caught sight of a dark marking on Misato’s left shoulder blade, in the form of a character from one of those anime shows on the television, with upswept hair and crackling lightening and a menacing stare. Sharply he drew in his breath to see an entire landscape of color that started at the bra line.

Intrigued, Renji wondered what other tattoos she might have beneath the knee length skirt and slip that still covered the rest of her body. She stepped out of the flat shoes, and then turned and rested her small hands on a large translucent dial in the alcove to her left. A curtain was suspended from a rod, and he heard the rasp of the hooks as she pulled it aside. Resting a hand on the hilt of his zanpakuto, Renji watched her place another hand under the water that hissed out of the showerhead. Waiting for any moment to watch her disrobe completely.

Soon the zipper rasped silently and the skirt slid down her thighs, revealing a silk garment that covered her waist to knees. Her dark haired head vanished as she hitched the smaller light sheath up and over her shoulders, revealing strange translucent leggings and a white pair of undergarments beneath which covered her curved backside. Renji bent over and brushed his hand over the fabric, feeling its texture. Indeed, it was silk, and his soul reaper body could feel and hold solid objects as easily as a flesh and blood one could.

“Holy crap,” Renji blinked, aghast and amazed.

Misato had it done so she could easily conceal it beneath her work clothes, and here it was hidden from the rest of the world. Suddenly his respect for humans and their pain threshold skyrocketed. Along with the images of the anime character, he saw a fully armored samurai warrior opposite a geisha, surrounded by a cloud and stars motif. Further down her back curled the form of a vine with roses and rosebuds. Across her back was a half belt of a butterfly in the center flanked by two chrysanthemums. Tying the entire design together were dark markings etched in sharp black. Renji’s eyes traveled down the curve of her back and the nape of her neck, seeing the gentle presence of love handles and wide hips under the bright living artwork decorating it.

It was something he could relate to readily. A ‘demure’ unmarried Christmas cake to a woman had revealed a strange side to herself. Tattoos were rare in this realm of the world, but many of the younger humans sported them. He traced one finger over his own forehead, snickering at how Rukia often made fun of his own adornments. Misato Ochi traced a finger over the tattooed rock star face and sighed deeply, peering at her dark eyes in the mirror. He dipped down when she spun around, before he remembered she could not see him of course.

Reaching around she raised her hands to the level of the strap that held the binding garment up. Four hooks popped open, and he saw the tattoos more clearly. Then the garment dropped to the pile on the floor. She kicked it aside with a bared foot, and then set one of them on the edge of the tub. He watched intrigued as she peeled the leggings off like a shedding snake. Indeed, they were made from cloth as sheer and light as gauze and he suppressed the temptation to pick them up. He didn’t want her to be aware of his presence yet.

From the absence of a gold ring on her left hand, he deduced she was unmarried. Prime Christmas cake indeed, he nodded, not questioning why he was suddenly acting like a pervert. Nobody need know. All he was doing was watching a mere lowly human. Then she lifted one leg and stepped into the tub shower, while grabbing the edge of the curtain. Renji bit his lip, wondering if he dared watch more, because he caught a quick glimpse of her as she turned to the side before the curtain slid back. Her breasts were free of the binding garment and they hung unrestrained and soft…

“Fuck it, I don’t care,” Renji sniffed unimpressed by reasons why not. He realized there was enough room in the small shower area to stand behind her and watch at close quarters. Water on a Shinigami was nothing for it could pass through his spirit body unimpeded. Smirking, Renji easily passed through the molecules of the curtain and stood behind the woman who he towered over.

“Nice view. Not bad at all…” he nodded appreciatively.

Already Misato had tipped the liquid soap onto her hands and was lathering it into her hair. It fell down over her back, the living canvas for an artwork Renji envied. Her unclothed body was indeed pleasant for eyes deprived of such input.

“She doesn’t believe in spirits. Has zip in the psychic department because she’s a teacher I bet. Always not wanting to believe whatever the hell stories her students give her for not doing homework. That'd make me question bullshit that seems unreal,” Renji snickered. It was perfect, and his mischievous side was in full force. Rukia would think him a pervert for sure. However, he was only looking. A perverted part of him thought it was a riot he got to see what the teenagers in Ichigo’s class never did.

As Misato rubbed her scalp through with shampoo, Renji reached out and rested his hand in the path that hers now took. Feeling the soft wet texture of her hair, and smelled the pungent scent of tea tree oil and citrus. Other artificial chemicals he knew were not natural also invaded his sense of smell. Her spirit inside seemed strong, but he could not resist following the path of one hand as she grabbed a bar of soap and raised it to her chest. His fingertips lightly cupped around her hand, and took it along the path over her left then her right breast. Every so gently he eased his own fingers into the solid flesh of hers, his own fingertips penetrating the solid matter of the soap so he could caress her skin indirectly. Reaching around behind he then almost brushed the front of his soul reaper robe to the curve of her shoulders.

His other hand covered Misato’s, his soul body penetrating her fingertips while she spread the soap over her bare skin. Closing his eyes he blocked out all reasons why this was a bad idea. Cursed his weak restrained, and simply allowed the woman’s own caresses to guide his own. She would not know that a spirit being effectively copping a feel shared her private shower. Her shoulder was the perfect height for him to rest his chin in, and wrap his robed sleeves around her wet body and hold her from behind as she continued to wash her torso. Though her body passed through his, he felt its warmth and energy colliding with his reiatsu.

He reveled in the contrast of her wet physical flesh to his completely dry Shinigami garments. For a time he could experience the oddity of such low human sensations. It was not the first time he had passed through her apartment this way. There was a psychic hotspot near Misato Ochi’s residence that reeked of hollow. Unfortunately, it was hard for Soul Reapers to sense ghosts tied to physical places and that was why Renji was assigned this particular mission. This fool thing the humans called science dulled the minds of those who may be sensitive to psychic phenomenon. The scientists and engineers were sometimes the blindest, or the most perceptive. Renji suspected Ichigo was the culprit because this woman had absorbed some of his latent spirit energy. Just as Tatsuki, Orihime and Sado had done.

He backed away when he felt her bend over. For a moment, he wondered if he should leave now when she dropped the soap and he got more of a look of her secret places than he thought. Why was he shy now? Human actions were beneath his care or concern. Yet in noticing and touching her, he was dangerously flirting with burdensome emotions.

Misato straightened up, lifting one leg and still kept her back to him. Now he realized she was soaping up her legs and washing one then the other. She then turned around and he was treated to the full view of her unimpeded by any clothes. Her dark haired head would rest just under his chin, while her chest was at the height just above his waist. Arching her neck, Misato thrust her head under the showerhead, so the dark locks were plastered down. He forced his vision upwards to stare at the column of her throat. The odd sensation of water passing through his soul body was amusing, but he soon forgot to notice because he was enjoying the view of her sighing and stretching in the comfort of the hot steam.

“She’s a looker for a human,” he nodded, drinking it all in while he could. “Human beings have the stupidest ideas about beauty. They’re so hung up on youth they forget it’s just temporary.”

Then her dark eyes opened, and he hissed sharply. Misato could be staring directly at him because she turned her glance right up to his face. Yet it was just coincidence, he realized. Her arms crossed over her chest and the smooth face only just beginning to crease with a few laughter lines twisted to a slight frown. Renji had folded his arms over his chest at this point, staring at the nude woman rinsing off in her shower. Surely she couldn’t’ see him, and yet she appeared disturbed. He saw the muscles in her arms twitch and her nostrils flare, fear lighting up her brown eyes. They seemed to focus far too short absent of her glasses. Something vibrated and he heard the loud low thump and the overtones of an angry shout. Sudden noises from next door no doubt. However, Renji bristled when something assaulted his senses. Misato Ochi could not hear the eerie familiar cry reverberating in the building.

“Crap,” Renji cursed. Energy spiked, negative and malevolent with the rattling of the foundation of the building itself. Far too fast and oh so near. He had let himself be distracted by stupidity and a hollow was in this very apartment building! Moving out of the shower Renji easily passed through the bathroom wall. His head turned sharply towards the window, eyes caught by the unnatural flickering of energy just outside. The loud wailing echoed in the space between dead and living, and he knew why.
***

He did not count on the teacher emerging from the shower with a towel wrapped around her that moment. Renji had dashed to the window to peer down into the street, when he snapped his head up. The sound of movement behind him and the flutter of human life force told him it was she. Ignoring it, he turned his focus to the sound and flaring of Hollow energies floating in midair. Just outside and down he could stare through the huge glass windows of her apartment and see the flutter of a spirit standing on the balcony next to Misato’s.

In minutes, he had raced out the glass, standing on her balcony near a plastic chair. Standing on the railing of the next apartment’s balcony the ghostly figure shimmered. The long chains were attached to the railing, snaking towards the girl’s chest. She was walking lightly along it, balancing like a cat. A child barely three, forgetting she was alive.

A soul bound to one place to repeat the last few moments of life. Unaware it was dead. Long tentacles snaked down from above, and he glanced up to see the shimmering purple and black before the white mask poked its head down.

“Got you, you bastard,” Renji snickered, his fangs bared, eager to fight.

The girl soul turned, blinking at Renji in surprise. In one fluid movement, he launched himself up, grasping the whole around the waist. A tentacle hand swiped by, only to twist around open air. The loud roar of rage did not faze the soul reaper. With a cry of “roar Zabimaru,” he transmuted the blade of his zanpakuto. His opposite arm carried the ghost of the girl, while swinging with his right hand. Shunpo carried him across the gap of the building, and he thrust the girl inside the empty apartment. That left him free to duck back out and flash step to the roof.

Moonlight flashed off the razor-toothed edge of his sword. Segmented pieces glittered and unfurled like a banner, swirling towards the white masked hollow clinging to the edge of the roof. Half of it was still bunched up over the edge of the three-foot wall that surrounded the tar beach. There was no penthouse to this apartment building, only the usual mass of chimneys and solar panels. Zabimaru cut across, slashing tentacles in one whipping stroke. Renji soared over, and then touched the souls of his sandals onto the asphalt behind the hollow. Another flick of his arm sent the segmented band snapping forwards like a whip. It raked easily along the median of the hollow’s skull, cleaving it in two. It disintegrated into tiny fluttering pieces before evaporating into nothingness.

Nodding to himself, Renji then leapt off the roof and ran down the side of the building towards the balcony of the empty apartment. He shot inside; his body slipping through the molecules of a glass window to the small-confused ghost huddled inside. His dark robe fluttered as he made soothing sounds and strode up to the girl, curled in on herself around the chain that stretched from her chest to the railing. Inverting Zabimaru he then crouched by the girl.

“Quiet little one,” he urged, as she turned over and sniffled up at him. Blue eyes blinked in fear and confusion. The ghost girl said nothing, just stared at Renji’s concerned face with wide eyes.

“Not to worry. It’s over now. You’re going away from this horrid place. Where you can play to your heart’s content with nobody to bother you,” Renji soothed, stroking her soft hair.

The girl shivered, and then managed a small smile at the light touch of his hand. He then brushed a few tendrils of hair from her face before he carefully touched the hilt of his zanpakuto to the middle of her forehead. Sapphire light flooded around her form in a circle, while the konso mark gleamed brightly on her head. Then she sank into the pool of blue, sliding from the physical world into the soul society. Another job well done, he nodded.

“Haven’t lost my touch, I see,” Renji smirked. He sheathed Zabimaru, clicking it into place before he strode proudly out of the empty apartment. Then his eyes caught sight Miss Ochi from the shower standing on her balcony. Still clad only in a towel she rested her arms on the railing, her face turned towards him.

“What the hell? Who’s there?” Misato Ochi called out into the night. “Someone there?”
“What the hell’s going on? I know she couldn’t see me,” Renji mumbled, standing besides the railing and looking more carefully at her.

Her hand shielded her eyes, and he saw the flash from a pair of glasses. For a moment, Misato’s head shifted back and forth before it then turned again towards him. Light from her apartment lit her from behind, and she was silhouetted in half shadow, half-light.

“Hello?” she called out, her eyes straining. “Don’t try anything funny whoever you are!”

“Crap, there’s no way. She never saw me before,” Renji cursed, ducking into the shadows. Then Misato swung around, looking wildly into the night for the next few minutes. Confusion twisted her pretty features, and Renji braved ducking out of the shadows again. Once more, she turned towards him, but her eyes did not linger in his direction.

Renji had to know. He cautiously leapt to her balcony, standing only two feet from her. Still Misato faced straight ahead, staring into the night. Then she turned, facing towards him and he felt his spirit body tense. She gave no sign of noticing him there, back pressed to the glass of the sliding door that was still open. Still that faraway sad look marred her features, and Renji saw her raise one hand to rub at her eyes behind her glasses.

“You had me going there, woman,” Renji said aloud. “I thought you could see me. Big shame you can’t. But for your sake you’re better off for it.”

“Eri Suzuki,” she murmured, turning her face to the balcony. “I could swear I could still see you there like it was yesterday. Why didn’t anyone see you there? I could have stopped you had I been home to know your mother Yukia had a heart attack… but by the time I came home that day…”

“No wonder,” Renji thumbed his lip thoughtfully. She had lived in that apartment long enough to perhaps know the people who lived there. Pulling out his soul pager Renji saw the information bleeping over in scrolling text.

“Eri Suzuki, and her mother Yukia Suzuki. Looks like Ichigo did konso on the mom a while back,” Renji read carefully.

After all Misato Ochi’s apartment was clean and tidy, yet full enough of bookcases and enough clutter to show she’d been there for longer than two months. Longer than the length of time, it had taken to track down the stationary spirit tied to the railings.

That forlorn look on her face made perfect sense. He spotted the picture of Misato Ochi and Yukia Suzuki together with the child. It appeared as if she had some connection to the little girl. Perhaps Misato and Yukia were old classmates. Like Rukia and Ichigo were? Renji moved up behind her, seeing the goose bumps on her bare shoulders. Something compelled him to wrap his arms around Misato and summon spirit pressure to block the wind. He made his spirit body opaque enough that the molecules of chilly night air would not brush her bare skin. Pressing his chest to her back, he reveled in the warmth radiating from her live body.

“So warm,” Misato Ochi murmured, relaxing.

“I’m getting too soft,” Renji thought, embracing a live woman who he should not lower himself to concern himself with. Nor spare precious hollow hunting time to spent time around. When he felt the movement of her body, leaning back, he stepped away, watching her turn and stride back through the glass door. She slid it shut behind her, unaware of the soul reaper who had entered a second before.

A small smile covered her face. Misato rubbed her shoulders, hugging herself and chuckled. “Strange. I feel warm. It’s almost as if… no…”

“Silly woman,” Renji sighed.

He followed her slow steps through the living room, and then stopped himself from following her down the hallway. Instead, he felt how weary he suddenly had come to be and strode over to the comfortable looking sofa opposite the flickering television she had left on. Still the stacks of paper covered the coffee table. Renji lowered himself to sit where she had hours before, propping his feet up on the coffee table and leaning his head back. The plush stuffing yielded under him and he sighed with pleasure. There was no rule against resting oneself after a long day’s work. Eventually he would return to Soul Society, but he had something to do first.

On the coffee table he saw a bowl with something that smelled sweet. Next to that remained a plate of half eaten sashimi and rice dumplings. Back and forth he glanced, sensing her reiatsu from the other parts of the apartment. When it seemed she wasn’t returning, he slowly he reached for one of the chocolate covered objects and took a bite. Cherry seemed to melt on his tongue with a slightly more bitter taste than he expected, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Renji guessed perhaps she was so tired she wouldn’t notice they were gone anyhow. Last time he had sneaked a few bites of something tasting of peanut butter with chocolate when she had gone into the next room.

“She must be more worn out that I figured,” he chuckled, picking up the plate with her leftover food. “Waste not, want not.”

After all he felt he was doing her a favor, as he wolfed down the sashimi, followed by sips from the half drunk glass of something sweet. He licked his lips of wasabi, savoring the taste of iced tea sliding down his throat. Soon he’d polished off the rest of the food and set the empty dish back where he found it.

After a half hour of watching the nonsensical monster movie playing over the channel, he rose from the sofa. Ichigo’s teacher usually took that time to dress and dry her hair, readying herself for bed. As he slipped in through the half open door he saw that Misato Ochi was curled up on one side, the covers pulled to her waist. The light on her bedside table was on, and her fingers tapped keys on the computer set right before her face. One-half of the double bed was unoccupied. She snapped the lid shut and set the laptop on the floor, then turned over to face the empty half of the bed.
Renji stretched himself out opposite her, studying her face as she stared into nothingness through him. Lightly his fingers traced her features, knowing she could not feel his touch, but imagining she could. Was he so lonely that he found any company better than none? A lonely single woman lying in a bed by herself with none to warm it? Yet knowing he had much the same needs?

She turned over on her back, wrapping the blankets around her. Renji slid his arm overtop her, curling around her back as he rested his head on the pillow next to her. For a time he simply stroked her soft hair, letting his spirit energy shimmer by her, and even wash over her for whatever measure of comfort he could offer. Such things were not unheard of in the Soul Society. To watch the living day by day and even study them was also not forbidden. It was seen as a sort of entertainment. Softly he pressed a nonexistent kiss to the nape of her neck, and curled his strong arm around her. Her breathing steadied and he soon heard the thump of her heart.

“Sleep well woman,” he murmured, laying there for a time. It would be a
few hours before he was due back at the Soul Society, and he sometimes liked to watch her sleep. She turned over again, so she faced him, pulses of hot air caressing his lips. Amused, he traced his ghostly fingers over her lips, enjoying the feel of her exhalations warming his ephemeral hands.

Close he leaned to her slightly parted lips, and gently brushed his overtop. Tasting warm wetness while resting his hand on the surface of her soft cheek. Savoring the breath of the living wafting into his mouth, and moving his lips over hers, though she could never even tell he was there. She tasted of peppermint and fluoride from the toothpaste, her hair smelling of apricots. Renji simply continued to touch his lips to that of the dozing woman, enjoying the flavor of life and its forbidden low burdens.

Sighing Misato Ochi licked her lips, shifting in the night to some pleasant dream. His arm draped over her, he pressed himself to her front, again pressing his lips to hers. Daring to lock her lips in a full kiss despite the fact he could easily pass through her. To his surprise, Ichigo’s teacher had responded, perhaps feeling him in her sleep for he had used enough energy to solidify his spirit body so he mimicked the pressure a human would use. A soft sigh and moan drifted through her opened mouth and Renji used the opportunity to plunge his tongue inside.

Applying a bit of spirit pressure, his mouth hungrily claimed hers. She shifted onto her back, her hand dropping to one side. Renji half draped himself over her body, continuing to explore her moist living mouth with his own. It was intoxicating and addicting mapping out the arch of her palate and the resistances of her tongue, making him shiver.
His hand stretched out, interweaving his fingers with hers. He felt the squeezing of her hand, and heard the soft moan in response to his kiss. Soon he found himself straddling her with the blanket between them, enjoying the feel of her beneath him. There was no danger of him crushing her because he was just a phantom without any density. From under the cover slid her other arm, wrapping up and around his neck to hold his head to hers.

“Pathetic. Renji, you’ve slipped. Kissing a human woman who’s fast asleep, because you’re too much of a dork to get the girl of your dreams,” he thought to himself. Yet she tasted damn good, and her body was so warm.

At that moment, he pulled back, reluctantly ending a kiss that he had enjoyed. Lightly he nipped her bottom lip, and then tasted her mouth one last time. Regretfully he climbed off and sat next to her, caressing her nightgown-clad shoulder with one hand as he considered what he had just done.

Renji Abarai then realized he had to tell someone something important. He could no longer ignore the need inside of him. To watch over someone who had been close to his side instead of yearning for a life alongside a stranger. Rukia Kuchiki needed to know his true feelings.

Black wings fluttered like a death butterfly, the Shinigami's alternate form. For those privileged few who could perceive them, they would see the uncanny creatures passing in the night. Perhaps that was what Miss Ochi, teacher of Ichigo’s class at Karakura High, saw when she opened her eyes after the pressure of ghostly lips against hers. For a moment, she could see the lines of a tattooed faced samurai straddling her, his sword belted at his waist, and his arms wrapped around her. Panting against her face.

She tasted iron and a hint of wasabi. Licking her lips, she turned over and slumbered peacefully. Now she had a new dream lover and would not dread the nigh.
***