Chapitre 285: Fate: Shattered by wyrdword
Link: -https://fiction.live/stories/Fate-Shattered/mJ5Lut9L2mgfpLHDt/home
Synopsis
Ichigo abandons his fear.
March 29th, 2006
"What?" resounded, dull with shock.
Shunsui sighed.
"In their infinite wisdom, the Central Forty Six has decreed Kurosaki Ichigo requires scrutinous monitoring and education for a period of no less than six years, lest he upset the Balance." Purple eyes blinked at the information before narrowing in outrage, and the Captain Commander found himself withholding a smirk at the offended set of his subordinate's jaw. Leaning back in his chair, he waved a scroll through the air.
"Yes, yes. You and I know he'd never do so; not purposefully, at least. But they're in charge, and my protests fell on deaf ears."
…what few he'd raised; alienating Ichigo was a moronic move, but there was merit to making sure the boy was fully educated on the supernatural vagaries Urahara and his father had neglected to mention, to say nothing of the backstabbing sorcerers he ran with before the Vandenreich's invasion. If Ichigo knew of heavenly restrictions and binding vows, Shunsui would eat his eyepatch. More besides, the utter anomaly wasn't liable to hold a grudge. Not over this:
"That said, when the discussion turned to operatives, your name was at the top of the list by my recommendation. So, Kuchiki-san, what do you think?"
Again, purple eyes blinked. Face relaxing into a regal aloofness, the Thirteenth's Lieutenant folded her arms behind her back. Shunsui saw a powerful determination take root therein.
"Permission to speak freely, Captain Kyoraku?"
"Permission granted, Lieutenant."
"Why me?" Rukia sounded genuinely perplexed, which was bemusing in its own right.
"Experience with the Living World, guaranteed proximity with the target due to familiarity, trustworthiness in the aftermath of the Winter War, strength enough to challenge a Captain, a noble's education, and a general lack of anything better to do," Shunsui counted off, already anticipating how she would respond to the sixth point.
"But the-"
"Thirteenth can live without you for the few years you'll be gone. You've done good work so far, Kuchiki-san. Fantastic work, really. But we're not without recourse, if you leave: Ginrei-dono has elected to handle rebuilding your division while you're on assignment. Apparently, the recent war roused him from his retirement; your grandfather has been looking for a worthwhile means to contribute."
While Rukia digested the somewhat shocking pieces of information, Shunsui let his geniality fall away to reveal a small degree of the exhaustion he was feeling. Consequently, the dark circles underneath his eyes became far more prominent as he sat up to grab her attention. Fingers bridging at his fore, scroll set down, he breathed: "Kuchiki-san, instead of ordering you to do this, I'm giving you a choice out of respect for your recent accomplishments."
"And?" she ventured, when the statement began to linger.
Shunsui managed a weak smirk: "And," he drummed his desk, "I like to think you understand why letting the Central Forty Six pick an operative in your place is a bad idea. Because they will, if you refuse to go." He nodded at the scroll. "They promised as much."
"...oh." Rukia looked like she'd sucked on a lemon, recognizing the threat for what it was.
"Oh," Shunsui smiled grimly, all teeth.
"In that case," she said, "it would be my honour, Captain Kyoraku," and Rukia bowed.
Shunsui clapped his hands before getting into the specifics, scroll tossed into his subordinate's space as he forced himself back into relaxing. "Wonderful. Your point of contact will be Urahara Kisuke for the duration of your mission. In the event your target seeks to disrupt the Balance, you are to immediately contact him. Otherwise, he'll be providing support and materials for instruction and recording. Regarding housing…"
Minutes later, watching Rukia stride off with set shoulders and a glimmer in both eyes, Shunsui wondered if she'd figure out the seventh reason she'd been picked above everyone else.
It wasn't like the bittersweet kiss of yesteryear was a secret, after all.
Concurrently
Elsewhere, the subject of their discussion was busy finalizing the terms of his university stay. It was later than last minute, but special allowances had been granted to him on account of the 'esteemed recommendation' Kisuke had secured.
Leaning cheek to fist, elbow planted against his desk, Ichigo considered his empty inbox and stifled a sigh.
"Come on," he grumbled under his breath. He could be making extra money working for Ikumi, right now. But no, here he was… waiting…
Glare harsh and unforgiving, his monitor remained unchanged in the face of his impatience, casting its glow against the considerate set of his jaw.
Hand pulling away from the mouse, Ichigo leaned back and rubbed at his eyes, idly glancing at the shadows cast by evening's light. Below, he could hear Goat-chin singing along to the karaoke machine he'd hauled back to their house; a purchase made in anticipation of a party or something. The sound of his voice was less grating than it might have been, months ago, before Ichigo had been faced with the man's potential death…
Pushing morbid thoughts out of mind with a practiced sigh, Ichigo reached up to rub at his bangs, fingering the increasingly long strands. He huffed at their length, figuring he needed to get a haircut sooner or later. Amber eyes blinked as new information appeared on screen: his sports scholarship was secured.
'Finally,' he thought.
Subsequent minutes would leave Ichigo's lips curled into a smile.
Choice: Ichigo's Scholarship -Voting closed - 56 voters
VOTES
Baseball (Rukia in a Jersey, Rukia is Excited)
29/35
Soccer (Rukia in a Jersey, Karin is Excited)
14/16
Tennis (Rukia in a Mini Skirt, Yuzu is Excited)
12/161
And with good reason.
It wasn't that Ichigo loved baseball any more or less than the other sports whose teams he'd dragged into various championships - which was to say little, though the solidity of pitching and hitting was fun. Rather, having relatively free room and board in addition to his scholarship was just short of perfect. Especially since paying for Tokyo University's anything would have been a major pain in the ass. The Substitute Soul Reaper was many things, and rich was not one of them; and so, as the day's dregs sped by, the satisfaction borne of the recently received confirmation remained, nestled comfortably inside his breast. Not even his old man's overly ripe antics could ruin his mood. Then came night, curtaining over Karakura alongside the cries of hungering Hollows. They chorused savagely, pitched twice or thrice over, each of their tones chilling.
Ichigo lay in bed, unconcerned. Ryunosuke and Shino were more than capable of handling a few small fry, and he had a bit of packing to finish come morning. Because: University.
Inwardly, Ichigo swore as his mind was effectively wrenched towards that all important subject: Meguro Ward. Kobawa Campus. Undergraduate. Classmates. Courses. The terms and locations went on and on, spawning question after question. Yawning with the consequential wakefulness, Ichigo kicked at his bedsheets, exposing his chest to the cool breeze blowing through his partially opened window. Pale moonlight and flickering street lamps filtering into his room, the occasionally ornery teen began counting each of his breaths.
One… two… twenty… oblivion…
When morning followed in defiance of the dark, Ichigo was well rested. Horny too, but that was nothing new. He was eighteen. So, setting that particular issue aside for later-
"Gooooood morning, Ichigo~!"
'Where is Goat-chin?' Ichigo scowled, glancing at the clock - 6:50 - as he threw on a pair of shorts.
It wasn't that he missed the irritating wakeup call, but kicking ass and taking names at first light was routine. For his old man to have missed an opportunity at annoyance was unusual. At least, up until a familiar cold tickled Ichigo's sluggish senses.
Rukia. She was here. Amused, too.
Surprised by her presence, which was blatantly waiting for him in the kitchen alongside Yuzu and Goat-chin, Ichigo made for the stairs. One puzzle had clicked together and been immediately replaced by another. Feet light, he was careful in pacing himself across the wooden boards. As he descended, their voices reached his ears.
"-to try their new flavours," Yuzu said, the sear of meat coinciding with her excitement.
"I promise to make an attempt, but I can't guarantee I'll have the time. This assignment of mine is going to keep me busy," Rukia replied, her earlier amusement fading in exchange for a measure of fondness.
Yuzu made a noise of understanding as Ichigo touched down on the ground floor.
"Work," she commiserated, reminding him that she - like Karin - now took on the occasional shift for Kisuke's ship.
"Ichigo," spilled from Rukia's lips in acknowledgement, forcibly drawing him back to the present. The teen's mouth dried at the sight of her, amber gaze flitting about as a smile that was as happy as it was coy spread across her delicate features. Bent at the waist, she paused in adjusting her socks.
Ichigo took in the modest swell of her chest, and how snugly her white sundress hugged her hips, and felt himself stir. Then his eyes gravitated to Rukia's eyes, purple and piercing and reflecting the sunlight to perfectly illuminate her mirth. Moisture abandoned his mouth, wholesale.
"Rukia," he managed as she took to standing. Hands on her hips, her smile brightened.
"You got taller," she observed, her gaze shooting down to his chest and arms as she mused, "Bigger, too."
Belatedly recognizing that he was without a shirt, Ichigo suffocated the urge to flush as he inhaled.
Choice: Ichigo's Response -Voting closed - 74 voters
VOTES
"That makes one of us."
47/57
"It's good to see you too, Midget."
17/22
+ "Actually, have you gotten smaller?"
12/15
+ Sneak a peek at her tits. Wish they were bigger.
6/91
"Why are you in my kitchen?"
1
He also busied himself by keeping his limbs carefully uncrossed, so as to pretend he wasn't embarrassed. In his distraction, what proceeded to leap from his lips was anything but thoughtful.
"That makes one of us."
Right then and there, as his reply registered, the tension which gripped the Kurosaki household was thick enough to swim through, clinging to every wall and crevice like stubborn ash and heat. Rukia's mouth clicked shut, her smile effectively smothered, and Ichigo heard both Yuzu and his old man suck in harsh breaths.
Brow twitching, Rukia inhaled. Slowly. Even then, her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. Ichigo could see murder glinting in her gaze.
'Shit,' he thought. Before his friend could erupt in a show of righteous wrath, he moved forward as if pulled by a gravity not his own: and as his arms wrapped around Rukia's shoulders, pulling her flush against his chest, he coughed, though not in apology. Instead, Ichigo was rightfully confused by how he was supposed to proceed. That was, up until Rukia returned the gesture, hands clasping at the small of his back. Her breath was hot against his flesh, the fire of it contrasting the chill of her spiritual pressure.
Together, the two of them squeezed ever so gently, conveying a wealth of words neither could bring themselves to say. Breathing in her shampoo, Ichigo clicked his tongue. Of all the possible scents, she'd picked fucking straw-
Wet
"Did you just lick me?!" he cried, leaping away from Rukia with the meagerest shadow of flickering godspeed, disbelief painted across his features.
Purple eyes rolled in their sockets as Rukia huffed, "I did no such thing."
Offended by the naked lie, Ichigo gaped, "You totally did!" to which she cocked a brow, looking unbothered.
"Did I?" she questioned, certainty dripping from her tone; a low swagger that threatened to evolve into something haughty as Ichigo's reply failed to manifest in the immediacy of their exchange. There was a ding from the kitchen proper, but neither of them paid it any mind, occupied as they were at the staircase.
Strutting - and it was most definitely a strut, Ichigo's mind supplied - Rukia poked Ichigo below the sternum with a firm finger, right where she'd pressed her tongue, as if goading him.
"Ichigo, Ichigo, Ichigo," and the repetition served to spur a superior smirk onto her face as she ran a hand down her side. "First you can't see the wealth of change a proper lady has experienced, then you start feeling phantom sensations." Rukia ceased touching him to cradle the side of her face. Injecting a worried note into her voice, she asked, "Are you alright? No, wait, nevermind," she then sighed without giving him the chance to respond. "I just hope Orihime can fix-"
"My ass," Ichigo finally disagreed, uncaring of how the interruption sounded. Returning her earlier poke, he pressed Rukia backwards until her back hit the wall. Whatever he intended on saying was preempted by her outraged response, however.
Glaring condemnation, she looked up and said, "Don't just push people, you brute! What if they tip over?!"
Ichigo snorted as she slapped at his extended arm, knocking it away. "Don't act like you've got far to fall, Rukia-chan."
"Chan?" Rukia snarled at the purposefully demeaning inflection, in addition to the jab at her height. Ichigo couldn't have suppressed his triumphant smirk if he tried. And he most definitely did not.
"Want me to repeat it for you?" He loomed over her, mirth dancing in the amber of his eyes. "Ch-"
Rukia hit him. Repeatedly. A feminist in his own right, Ichigo gave as good as he got.
Doe eyes watched the scene with eminent interest.
"It's like we're not even here, otou-san," Yuzu said, cutting into a carrot.
Isshin chuckled under his breath, ruffling his daughter's hair as he turned away. "That's just the way they are, Yuzu-chan."
Coming down the stairs, a participant in neither of the conversations, Karin groggily glanced between the developing scenes.
"Nope," she decided, and headed back to bed.
Later, Rukia stood in front of a whiteboard. She'd shared the bare essentials of her being here in the Living World, and it was time for the nitty gritty. With the twins gone outside for the day and Isshin busied by the clinic, she had opted to take over the living room for such a purpose. Facing Ichigo, she tapped her marker against the most prominent of the displayed drawings.
"This is why I'm here," she said. "Primarily, at least."
Juryoku
Ichigo leaned back in his seat, brow scrunched in concentration as he questioned, "Cursed energy?"
"Mmhm." Pacing across the board's front, Rukia said, "Cursed energy is produced by the vast majority of humans. It's borne of negativity, and almost invariably spawns cursed spirits. We'll get into that stuff later, though… unless you don't know what those are?"
Ichigo sighed. "I'm gonna guess this is just one more topic everyone forgot to mention. Or neglected, I guess… fucking Ginjo," he huffed, his gruff mood dissipating as Rukia favoured him with a small smile.
"Just so. Soul Society considers them beneath our notice, most of the time." Turning around, the hem of her dress rising with the motion to expose black lace panties, Rukia remained ignorant of Ichigo's reddening face as she drew out a short equation. "To start with, cursed energy can be considered spiritual power divided in half. There's no love or kindness to be found therein. It's all anger or hatred, or sadness."
"Born in sin, huh?" Ichigo's grin was sardonic in the extreme. Rukia merely shrugged, still focused on the board.
"Who knows? Scholars have been arguing over the primacy of negativity in humanity for literal eons, though most agree it has something to do with mortal biology. The important thing to note is that there are special cases who have access to the full breadth of their soul's strength. Quincy, for example. Fullbringers, for another."
"In the end, this separates them from mortal sorcerers. Conflict has arisen because of this difference, of course, though rarely due to the natural division spiritual pressure produces. Those who emanate cursed energy repel Hollows like rot does a predator, while those who possess spiritual power repel curses and their energetic origin by dint of supremacy, with the latter mattering far more. Your ancestors have always been shunned, due to this and the mutations their presences wrought."
"Now, this concerns you because you're a blinding beacon of power at the best of times."
Ichigo opened his mouth to protest, only for Rukia to flick a ball of crimson flame in his direction. It blinked out of existence, the moment his defenses rose in surprise.
"As I was saying," she continued primly. "If you start drawing Hollows to you outside of the Jureichi, thousands could die. Millions, if we're unlucky." Rukia suddenly swallowed. "I wish I was exaggerating, but there's a good reason Captains and Lieutenants are normally only allowed to release twenty percent of their might in the Jureichi and its recent predecessors. Outside of the Important Spirit Ground, which smothers juryoku in the cradle, cursed spirits are birthed with incredible regularity. They're why so few Shinigami are capable of covering the globe. Humans who generate juryoku or full blown curses are tainted by that action, making them unpalatable for most Hollows, in addition to accelerating the process of their passage."
Ichigo saw where Rukia was going and sighed. "But if I'm outside of Karakura's sphere of influence, I might accidentally erase a huge chunk of curses by accident… or make it so they can't spawn at all. Which would," he breathed, "attract Hollows en masse."
"Exactly," Rukia confirmed. "What's worse, a cursed spirit might survive being in your presence. That offers them the chance to mutate, feasting on the dregs of your power. A Hollow could find juryoku flavourful, too. And this is without getting into the issues the attracted Hollows will offer any sorcerers unlucky or foolish enough to engage them." Rubbing at her temples, marker dangling between her fingers, the Kuchiki scoffed to herself.
"I won't lie and say there aren't sorcerers fully capable of contending with Shinigami, but most just aren't equipped to handle Hueco Mundo's denizens."
"There are some who can, though?"
"Oh, yes." Rukia nodded, small excitement leaking into her voice. "There've been plenty of cases in the past. Captain Muguruma is one such, actually. It was confirmed that he was a sorcerer of some renown while alive. He died fighting a particularly powerful Menos sometime in the… I believe it was the Heian period?"
Ichigo's eyes blew wide. "Soul Society tracks that kind of stuff?"
"All the time," Rukia answered as she turned to him, shrugging, "It's a passing fancy for many. Anyways, cursed energy and you."
"Me…" Ichigo nodded. "I need to get a handle on my powers."
Or Soul Society would see to it he never left the Jureichi… which sucked, but he could see why it would be a bad idea.
Without looking, Rukia pointed over her shoulder, at a hodgepodge of malformed bunnies made that much worse by her artistry. "You do," she agreed. "But we have stopgaps. Kido," she explained without going into detail as she went on to describe some of the mutations which had occurred in cursed spirits before.
Ichigo found the topic of interest… just not enough to distract him from a question that'd formed some minutes prior.
"What about sorcerers; do they ever awaken the ability to use their spiritual power?"
"...I don't know." Rukia frowned at her inability to provide an answer, then forcefully set the topic aside in favour of focusing on the proverbial gameplan.
"Regarding accommodations, Urahara-san," and Ichigo recognized she was still a little unhappy with the whole 'Hogyoku Implantation' bit of shared history, "mentioned he's altered ours so that we can freely exercise your control."
"Ours… you're following me to university?" Ichigo was incredulous.
Rukia smiled broadly. "I'm attending, too!"
"Holy shit." Ichigo stared at his friend, and a long silence stretched from thereon - and Rukia found herself scowling, shortly afterwards.
"What?" she demanded.
Ichigo chuckled, turning away.
"What?" she repeated, and the Substitute Shinigami's body began quaking with laughter.
Rukia's lips quirked with affection, hearing the naked mirth… even as her face burned at the implied source.
Marching, she let her marker fall to the ground, picked a pillow up off the couch, and promptly attacked Ichigo, leaping onto his seat with her makeshift murder weapon aimed squarely at his face.
"Die!" she commanded, looking to stifle her friend's amusement at the source.
Ichigo let her for all of three seconds. Then he recognized that Rukia wasn't going to stop without a fight, and grappled for her arms. She, of course, cheated.
Spells of binding wrapped around Ichigo's limbs, pinning him in place. Heaving for breath, her legs straddling his waist, Rukia was legitimately angry.
"Why were you laughing?!"
Red banded across Ichigo's nose as he ineffectually huffed, "I'm…"
"You're?" Rukia craned her head at his mild mortification, their shared circumstances beginning to dawn as she shifted in his lap. Rage overpowered the resultant emotion, however, which let her maintain an otherwise embarrassing course. Meanwhile:
'Forward,' Ichigo reminded himself, the word toned thrice over. No fear. No hesitation. Just honesty.
"I'm happy to hear that you'll be staying for a while, okay," and if he couldn't meet Rukia's eyes while admitting as much, that was his business.
Silence enveloped the living room; a car came to a stop, outside.
When Ichigo looked to regard Rukia, she was in the process of rising, already turned away.
"Well then," she said, coughing into a fist. "It seems Chad is here. Shall we?" she asked, gesturing to the front door. Ichigo looked at the back of her head, then shook his own.
"Yeah," he agreed, and there was a short beat of shared quiet wherein another question occurred to the incidental hero.
"Did anyone ever explain this stuff to Chad? Or Orihime?"
"You're not curious about Uryu?"
Ichigo withheld a scoff in favour of affecting his friend's haughty mode of speech: "As if a properly trained Quincy would be ignorant of such important information."
It was a poorly done imitation, but elicited laughter from Rukia all the same… and that was what mattered, really.
March 31st, 2006
Chad knew none of the relevant information, as it turned out. Neither did Orihime, or Tatsuki, or anyone but Uryu for that matter.
Not for the first time, inside a vehicle packed with all manner of belonging, Ichigo wondered what else lay out there. Planted in the passenger seat of Chad's van, Rukia and Orihime in the back chatting about recent fashion trends in Soul Society, he squinted at the sunny sky, the sound of their voices calling to mind a bevy of related topics.
"Do aliens exist?" he abruptly asked, looking at the eldest of his assembled friends through the side mirror. Orihime stopped breathing, as his asking registered amongst them.
"Oh." Rukia hummed, offering Orihime a fond smile.
"They do," the Shinigami confirmed.
Orihime clapped in her excitement, and took hold of Rukia's hands as she began peppering the older woman with questions. Purple eyes glimmered, amused.
"In order: yes, they've visited the Living World; no, I've never met one; not usually, because this place is incredibly hostile to natives already; once in history, and the former Captain Commander erased them from existence; and… I can't claim for certain, but I think there must be some peaceful species amongst your populations."
"What brought that on?" Chad wondered, glancing at Ichigo.
For his part, the Substitute shrugged his arms up into a stretch. Wrapped around his exposed arms, Kisuke's newly applied seal moved with the motion.
"Orihime," the Latin giant said, grabbing the girl's attention.
"Yes, Sado-kun?"
"What is it you're studying, again?"
"Astronomy," she supplied, her voice cheerful… then understanding.
Together, both she and Rukia smiled at Ichigo's consideration. For his part, Chad merely smirked at the awkward face being worn by his friend.
…Ichigo melted, and tried his best to distract everyone by turning the van's attention to Chad's band.
He succeeded. Eventually. If only because they were occupied once Orihime's stop in Mitaka came up.
"I'll miss you guys!" Orihime cried after the last of her things was unpacked, drawing each of them into a hug. "And I'll make sure to visit. I'll bring cookies and blankets and Tatsuki-chan, I promise!"
There were happy tears in her eyes as she went on to share words with Rukia, who looked flummoxed throughout their whispered exchange. Stood confidently inside her new apartment - paid for by a generous donation from a grateful princess - she was a far cry from the girl Ichigo encountered in the rain. He smiled in reminiscence, as her joyful gaze turned to him.
That same smile was on Ichigo's face, hours later.
Southwest of Shibuya, in a comfortable part of Meguro Ward not far from Komaba Campus, the spiritually sensitive human held in his grip a wooden badge. Laid across a couch - which was one of two seats in the apartment he now shared with Rukia - he fingered the smoothened grain, staring at the decorative skull. The television was blaring news about reconstruction efforts in Chiba and Tokyo, and how they would impact the economy.
Like the whorling 'tattoos' he bore, the badge served to both filter and absorb Ichigo's spiritual pressure, nullifying his effect on the environment, in addition to limiting the vast majority of his strength. But only up to a point. As explained by both Kisuke and Rukia, it was within his means to break them. Thoughts of the scientist planted a resignedly amused twist of the mouth in place of Ichigo's smile. When asked why he hadn't spoken on matters outside of Karakura, the former Captain had revealed his plans to simply share every iota of relevant information at the very last second.
"For fun!" Kisuke had laughed, cheerfully irreverent.
Nostrils huffing, Ichigo flicked his badge towards the ceiling - and with an effort of will and a minor expenditure of spiritual power, he kept it aloft with hardened air. Another mote of power slipped away, and the wooden device began twirling as if on a string.
"Ichigo!" disrupted his focus.
With Rukia's excitement evident to the named teen, he wasn't worried in the least. He was pained, however. Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, Ichigo stowed his badge away with a scowl and got to his feet.
Booming from her room, an impatient Rukia cried out for a second time: "Ichigo! Come here!"
Socks impacted carpeted flooring, softened footfalls following shortly thereafter.
Ichigo opened Rukia's door and beheld a surprising sight, amber gaze searching in surprise. After a beat, he met her smiling visage.
"Where the hell is your bed?" he asked.
Surrounded by scrolls and books - all painstakingly copied or purchased for his multifarious lessons - Rukia shook her head.
"That's not important," she said, directing his attention to the book in her hands. "Look at this!" She held the tome upright for his perusal, so that he could clearly read: Rabbit Escape, instead of focusing on the utter lack of amenities in what was supposed to be her space; the room's walls were occupied by bookshelves, and the center subject to a wooden platform, upon which a vast array of encircling spells had been engraved. There was nowhere to sleep. It was like-
Ichigo narrowed his stare, while the light of realization entered Rukia's. Neither moved for a moment fraught with one-sided tension. Then the former was marching to his bedroom, suspicions soaring. Therein, he ignored everything but his closet. The door slid open with a low rumble of manufactured wheels.
Rukia leaned against the wall at Ichigo's side as he looked between rabbits and pillows and an assortment of pinned photos, sedate. Dressed in pink sweats and a pale spaghetti top, a satisfied smile on her face, she was anything but apologetic.
"Do you like it? I think I could use a few more blankets, but-"
Ichigo covered her mouth with his hand, earning himself an affronted glare. He didn't care.
"You have a room."
Ripping herself free from his grip, Rukia harrumphed as she crossed her arms. "We have a room," she stressed. "And we," she stressed again, "also have a place to study the wider world, unless you want to move into my closet."
Ichigo rubbed at his forehead, exasperated. "I thought Kisuke was setting up something like his underground space, not a satanic circle… and where the hell is the rest of your stuff? I know Chad and I carried up more than enough to fill that thing up," he said, thumbing at the closet.
Pushing past him, Rukia cocked a brow as she sat atop her bedding. "You thought wrong, then. As for my things?" Right arm reaching out, she pointed down at the space below her. Having since stepped back, Ichigo could well see what she was referencing.
"...That's gotta violate a few building codes," he muttered.
April 1st, 2006
The next day saw Ichigo living the life of a student, up until it was time for baseball practice. Then it was skills, conditioning, and lifting. Pushing himself during each progress, he earned notoriety and acclaim. Maybe too much. Listening to his seniors as they discussed his pitching potential without a care for his proximity, Ichigo wondered if he shouldn't have held back a little. His physical body wasn't anywhere near as strong as Chad's naturally was, but he was no slouch in the brawn department either.
There was a reason Karakura's baseball team had very nearly gone the distance, and it wasn't because their hitters were anything special.
Still, practice was over, and there was no use in crying over spilled milk. Which meant it was time to convene with Rukia. Freshly showered, he decided to grab some takeout on his way to their apartment.
Ichigo very carefully ignored the wealth of malformed spirits he passed by, while walking.
"Briiiiiiii~"
"Tooooooooo…"
"Kikikikikikikiki!"
It was easier than fruitlessly addressing their legions.
Lip curling in distaste as crimson slugs all but molested the feet of a teammate, Ichigo texted Rukia, asking what she was in the mood for. As he waited for her response, feet carrying him away from the training facilities, his mind turned to last night:
"To begin your lessons, we'll start with the basics; in other words, another reason for caution while outside Karakura Town: the reimyaku - the spiritual pulse." Whiteboard propped against his bedroom's wall, Rukia stood in her sweats and spaghetti top. She looked relaxed and amused, and… Ichigo's focus flickered to the delicate curve of her neck, unbidden. Catching as much, her lips parted in a smug smile.
Tap tap tap
"These," she said, drawing her marker's cap across a trio of coloured circles, "can be thought of as Soul Society, the Living World, and Hueco Mundo. Each has a different heart, for lack of a better term; a sort of driving force and atmosphere. They affect their occupants, and even interact with one another. They're how some kido and hakuda are performed, too. None of that is especially important for us, though. What is, is that the Living World's is the most cluttered of them."
"Because of cursed energy?"
"Because of cursed energy," Rukia confirmed, her smile taking on an approving edge as she began marking the central world with a massive spiral. Scattering dots, she said, "Humanity's darkness acts as a sort of grime, so the spiritual pulse is like an oil spill instead of an air current, making it slower and less capable of adjustments. According to nii-sama, this is worsened in Japan, because of the island's metaphysical proximity to Soul Society."
Resting on his side, a fist propping up his head, Ichigo's mind clung to a particular point. "Is that why Soul Society and Japan have so much in common - because of their proximity? Is there some kind of leakage thing, or did you guys interact one too many times in the past?"
Hands coming to rest against her hips, voice ringing with authority, Rukia answered, "I have no idea," eliciting a short smile from Ichigo, because her little bouts of ridiculousness were cute… sorta like her butt.
"But if I had to guess," she continued, turning back around to draw bunnies between Hueco Mundo and the Living World, ignorant of the focus her ass was beginning to draw. "Well, I would say it's a mixture. While I was digging through my family's archives, I discovered that there've been quite a few men and women like your father in the past, though never quite so strong." She shrugged, turning around to find Ichigo in a staring contest with the floor. "It's likely they influenced the language and culture. That said, the reimyaku carries more than just energy. So…"
"It's unknown," Ichigo guessed.
"It's undecided," Rukia corrected, tossing her marker at his head. Snorting at his offended scowl when it connected, she smirked, "In any case, we've drifted away from my point: Ichigo, if your spiritual pressure spikes while outside of Karakura, you'll alter the spiritual pulse. Maybe permanently." Gesturing to herself, she admitted, "Now, I don't know what that entails given Zangetsu's nature, but I'm confident myself and Captain Hitsugaya would affect weather patterns for years and years, exposing a vast swath of land to hungry Hollows as our spiritual pressure forbade the formation of curses."
'I wonder…'
Ichigo shook his head, flight of morbid fancy dying as he neared his apartment.
Whatever the case, it wasn't going to matter; he was committed to not fucking the world and its inhabitants on accident.
Entering his apartment, he found Rukia on her Kisuke-approved phone with Orihime. She smiled at him, mouthed her thanks, then returned to fiddling with the keyboard at her fore. Ichigo merely nodded, giving her peace and quiet as she spoke of classes and classmates.
…he still couldn't believe she was enrolled in the Fine Arts program… or that she'd chosen piano over her beloved paintings.
Shaking his head, he went about preparing the food.
They ate quickly, of course. There was only so much time in the day, and their schedules were packed. Then Rukia was pulling out scrolls and books for references, and speaking on a variety of practices for controlling spiritual pressure.
It was neat and easily done, even if the same couldn't be said for the whole of Ichigo's course work. When night fell, they watched a shitty romance flick that had Rukia questioning 'human courtship rituals' as if cinema was in any way realistic.
That was life, for a time: learning, training, eating, and relaxing.
Ichigo struck up small friendships with his teammates, rapidly consumed Rukia's lessons, and mastered a few spells. Both Chad and Orihime stopped by the once. Karin and Yuzu called every fifteen days, as a joke and guarantee.
Everything was fine.
Was.
Then came June 1st and an especially powerful curse.
~
Ichigo: Luck
Roll: bo3 1d100
57, 85, 9 (DC: 70/90), (Public/Apartment/Private)
~
Takashi
June 1st, 2006
Kurosaki Ichigo was a hotshot rookie, and he was past getting on Takashi's nerves… and not just because Coach Minakata had given the green kid his position as starting pitcher.
"Because fuck seniority," he growled, shaking his head at the notion, jaw tight.
No. That wasn't the real reason the orange-haired freshman bothered Takashi. It was the unbridled arrogance Kurosaki oozed. Walking with his head held high, like he hadn't skipped out on spring training and a slew of other responsibilities without ever getting punished. Talking with unearned familiarity when amongst their teammates, like he hadn't ignored or turned down invites to socialize for weeks on end. Hanging around the Fine Arts students…
…okay, maybe it was the crush Linda had on Kurosaki that-
Glass shattered and metal crunched, murdering Takashi's inner monologue and runner's pace both.
Glancing up, the startled university student saw broken bits of building shining under the dawnlight. They were flying outward from the building on his right, and spurred screams from a dozen throats. Therein, he could have sworn-
Ichigo
Fourteen Minutes Earlier
They'd avoided it for months, but the time had finally come. Circumstances disallowed deliberate ignorance.
Seated across from Rukia at the tiny table they used for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, Ichigo grimaced at the testy expression his friend was wearing. Like him, her face was pinked.
"You didn't lock the door," she accused, her voice laden with censure.
"I forgot." Swallowing, Ichigo rubbed at the back of his head, trying to play off his mortification. Purple eyes alight with remembrance, Rukia simply stared.
"You were also aiming it at the shower. The only one in the apartment… a mistake, in hindsight."
Ichigo averted his gaze. "Where else am I gonna do it? Because my bed is a little close to your closet."
"...I suppose that makes sense," Rukia mumbled, looking down at the sheet music she'd left overnight.
Amused, Ichigo snorted. Finding the Shinigami's gaze, he absentmindedly asked, "Why were you so distracted, anyways?" She should have noticed his presence long before entering.
Rukia remained silent, fidgeting in place as it became her turn to look away.
"Rukia?"
Bared legs rubbed together. Fine features flushed scarlet.
"That's none of your business, alright!" The sudden increase in volume at so early an hour served to further waken the two of them, widening their eyes and accelerating their heartbeats.
It was Ichigo's turn to stare, as Rukia pointedly crossed her legs.
Choice: Ichigo's Response -Voting closed - 15 voters
VOTES
"We... should probably talk about this, huh?"
7/10
"You... the closet. Really, Rukia?"
5/6
"So, what were you thinking about?"
2
"So... breakfast?"
2
"I'm going to pretend this morning never happened. Sound good?"
1
"Okay," he breathed, seeing the sensitive subject for what it was, his desire to tease dulled by the Kuchiki's ferocious declaration. Still…
"We should probably talk about this… right?"
Rukia worked her jaw. Ichigo took her shuttered expression as permission to continue.
"I mean, we've been living together for a few months. That this only just happened is kind of surprising. So, better to avoid any future… mishaps," he eventually decided.
"When you say this…" Rukia trailed off.
Ichigo opened his mouth, paused as propriety warred with routine bluntness… and promptly ripped off the band-aid.
"Masturbation."
Rukia melted in her chair, while Ichigo martialled on:
"You saw something embarrassing, and I know… well, that."
Burying her face in her hands, Rukia hummed, "Mmhm," urging him to continue.
"...I've got nothing else." Ichigo just wanted to pretend this never happened. It was only his sense of responsibility preventing such disregard.
Letting her arms fall away, Rukia looked at him with banked fires in her eyes. Swallowing, she tentatively asked, "Do you… do you mind answering a question, Ichigo?"
"Shoot," he returned automatically, mouth drying as Rukia proceeded to worry her lower lip.
"Does it not bother you?" Focusing on his mouth and then his neck, she elaborated, "The closet. Me."
"You mean-"
"Yes," she interrupted.
'Fuck,' resounded back and forth between Ichigo's heads, bringing an abundance of blood to both. Dressed in shorts alone, he felt fabric shift and strain to accommodate the change as her question echoed.
Did the thought of Rukia fingering herself a few feet away from where he slept bother him? Yes. Of course. It made him nervous as hell, and tense all over. Except, those feelings were far from approaching negative. If anything, Ichigo was disappointed there'd been a door between him and her… and that she hadn't been under his covers. But he wasn't a slave to his more base desires. So, he waited to respond as he got his mind in order.
Saying something stupid was just – no.
Wood scraped, screeching like knives against an otherwise silent space as Rukia got to her feet. Impatience dogged her frame. Ichigo nearly balked as she proceeded to lean across their tiny table, threatening to expose her modest chest. What little spiritual pressure escaped her gigai spoke of mounting incredulity.
"I'm asking because we're both adults." Pupils shrinking, her gaze flickered across Ichigo's chest and shoulders. "And adults have needs." Rounding the impediment between them, she laid her hand on the Substitute's shoulder; a motion that translated into sliding her fingers across his back so that they rested against his spine. That same hand proceeded to take a gentle grasp of his jaw.
Turning Ichigo's head so that their eyes were locked, Rukia leaned forward, whispering, "Right?"
Choice: Ichigo's Decision -Voting closed - 76 voters
VOTES
Right
55/731
Wrong
2/4
Fingers rising to cradle Rukia's chin, Ichigo agreed: and as his lips were wet by softest cinnamon, skin kissed by chilled affection, he luxuriated in release - tension fled from his frame like the night before dawn. Heat sang, closing his eyes as spiritual satisfaction rumbled from deep within his soul.
Ichigo felt at peace, inner sky a blue infinity. Connected to Rukia, he was whole. Complete.
Zangetsu was practically purring.
Conversely, his partner in this dance was met with a rising tide named Subdued Panic. Reality was meshing poorly with her expectations.
Kissing Ichigo was supposed to be consuming, but only so. Hot and heavy, in other words; a vector by which she could satisfy previously unexplored desires. Instead…
Rukia felt a fluttering, girlish giddiness war with guilt inside her gut, and wondered if she'd gone mad. In five years and ten months, she'd be back in Soul Society; the bare minimum as assigned by the Central Forty Six - it was hardly a blip to her. Ichigo wouldn't take any longer to learn what was required of him, which meant indulging like this was dangerous. Knowing him, he might very well try to follow instead of living out his life! Then there was Orihime, who'd been so, so…
Heart a tumult of thunder and undoused desire, Rukia thought to back away. Really, she should have. It was the sensible thing to do when considering the future. But her body was traitorous and her mind rebelling. More importantly, Ichigo had readily reciprocated her want. Thus, she instead moved to seat herself in his lap. The slick stick of her thighs made a mess of them both.
Tongue searching, she wasted no time in reaching for the waistband of his newly dirtied pants, freeing his member from its confinement. It was molten in her hands and far harder than she'd expected, beading pre against her camisole. Ichigo made a small noise of surprise at her forward nature, and in any other moment Rukia would have deigned to tease him. Except, she was certain that stopping now - for anything at all - would equal damnation. She needed to move, or she'd start thinking about the foolishness of her current course.
Had they another twenty seconds to themselves, Rukia would have impaled herself in a burst of angry lust. But they didn't.
Abruptly, an oily mass of negativity blipped into existence just outside their apartment. It was as if somebody had dropped a boulder of concentrated fear and hatred against Meguro Ward's spiritual makeup, rippling the proverbial surface.
Two heads craned as one, all signs of disorder having disappeared. In their eyes, murder dwelled.
Standing in the same moment she pushed Ichigo down, Rukia was the one to act on their feelings.
"Oi," and her voice was wintry displeasure, cold enough to crack ice.
Flapping its wings from just beyond the balcony, a curse cackled. It was without eyes and nostrils, and its black painted lips housed neither teeth nor tongue. Fur grey and crown of horns spiralling, the lanky thing's presence was muted in spite of its strength; a shade lacking substance whose barbed tail split the air with ill intent.
Rukia estimated it was capable of troubling a Sixteenth Seat, which was no mean feat for a curse. Not when a simple exertion of spiritual pressure could erase their typical sort. She wasn't that strong, however. Not currently, in any case. Inside her gigai, limiter applied, Rukia knew she possessed a fraction of her full potential. Her false body was rated for combat, to be sure, but there was only so much exerted power material flesh and blood could withstand, Fullbringers and Quincy notwithstanding.
She'd have to be-
Grey violence encroached, shapelessly swelling from the curse's maw to devour light and sound.
"Sokatsui!" burst from Rukia's hand by dint of instinct, the jet of blue flame invisible to all but Ichigo and their foe, shooting forth to intercept the incoming offensive in the same moment the Kuchiki formed a pair of barriers along her flanks. Rooms guarded, she proceeded to fling herself forward, pale lightning crackling at her fingertips.
The curse cackled harder, and made no effort to escape. Clawed hands surged, elongating with all the speed of a tempest.
'Too bad,' Rukia thought, inner voice cold as she came to a stop just short of the destruction she'd wrought.
'Lightning is faster,' and the Shinigami's wordless Byakurai perforated the curse's head between blinks of an eye, earning a sound of surprise.
Watching it disperse into motes of unguided power, Rukia glanced down to see that the rubble she'd produced in her active defense was in the midst of falling. Below was a young man in danger of being injured.
Quietly cursing herself for a fool, Rukia yelled back at Ichigo to grab her kikanshinki.
Multiple minds would be needing alterations in the seconds to come.
Takashi
Concurrently
-someone was looking down…
'Wait,' because that 'someone' looked to have tripped!
"Shit, I've got you!" Takashi shouted, trying to orient himself so he could both avoid the incoming debris and catch the falling body.
Ignoring small cuts to his face and arms - and conveniently missing how not a single piece of truly damaging matter had touched his body - Takashi held his arms out in preparation… then goggled as his would-be rescue deftly avoided his grasp to touch down on the sidewalk, as if she hadn't dropped four stories. Purple eyes proceeded to meet his brown for a brief moment before scanning him up and down.
"Phew~" the woman breathed, holding a hand up to catch something out of the air. Head swivelling, she looked to catch the attention of everyone present and held a rabbit-topped candy dispenser high.
Confused and a little scared, Takashi-
Click
-groaned as consciousness returned to him.
"Ano, are you alright, stranger-san?"
"I…" Takashi blinked, looking up to meet a perfectly pretty visage. Taking stock of his body, he recalled running especially hard, then… nothing at all.
"Did I pass out?" he asked distantly, his voice echoing strangely in his head.
"You did," the woman answered, her tone light and dyed by a small amount of worry. "There was a weird explosion that knocked out quite a few people, actually. Here," she said, holding out a dainty hand she then used to help him into a seated position.
"Thanks," Takashi returned, looking around to see unconscious others. The morning sun was still rising, painting them in shades of gold.
Patting him on the shoulder, his saviour offered him a smile. "I've called 119, so sit tight, yeah?"
"...yeah," Takashi swallowed, taken by the sight of her raven locks drifting in the breeze.
"I'm Kuchiki Rukia, by the way." So said, she held out her hand for a second time, the western greeting seeming more appropriate given their circumstances. Takashi swallowed roughly as he returned the gesture.
"Morimoto Takashi."
Her palm was warm.
Ichigo
Fifteen Hours Later
Governmental reports had been filed, a new apartment moved into, and all their things transported. Somehow, he and Rukia had also managed to attend their classes. Baseball, too.
It was a small miracle, all things told. But the work was only almost finished. Ichigo still had to add a few notations to Rukia's outgoing - and as of yet unfinished - missive. Then he could put the attack in the back of his mind, while Kisuke and whoever else was assigned to investigate the curse got to work.
The sheer ease of the last few hours was more than nice… and Ichigo was definitely going to do as Kyoraku asked. He just had to handle this.
Dressed in an overly large robe, Rukia bared pert breasts for his viewing pleasure as she entered his room. Framed by the setting sun, she was deliberately aloof in her approach.
Ichigo's tongue sought to form words and failed. Utterly. Intelligence abandoned him in his hour of need.
"Well?" she asked, letting the robe pool at her ankles, stopping just short of arm's reach.
"...Don't you have a report to write?"
Rukia rolled her eyes at the choked whisper, foot tapping impatiently.
"We can be responsible later," she sniffed. An arm crossing beneath her modest bust, she trailed the other up and down her side, as if to ask, 'Well?'
Deliberately locking onto her unrepentant expression, Ichigo said, "You're fucking with me."
There was no way in hell Rukia was going to put off finishing-
"That's the idea."
Stubborn to the end in spite of himself, Ichigo thought her joking.
Snorting, Rukia went on to disabuse him of that notion with great vigour and eminent prejudice.
Which led to now, with the petite woman lain against his chest, breasts pleasantly pressed, her quim filled with his climax. Smile full and relaxed, she wore a thoroughly fucked expression. Quite naturally, the room stank of sex.
Still buried inside of her, Ichigo met the warmth of her satiation with a grin of his own.
In return, Rukia regarded him through lidded eyes. Then she leaned forward to kiss him, the touch of her tongue lazy and lingering against his mouth.
"I love you," she whispered upon pulling back, too quiet for him to hear.
"What was that?"
Licking his collarbone, teeth flashing to bite ineffectually for a twentieth time, Rukia hummed at his asking.
"Nothing," she whispered, louder than before.
Ichigo's brow furrowed, but he was content to let the matter lie in favour of assuaging a renewed worry as she began slowly but surely grinding her hips against his, the motion firm enough he was worried about hitting her cervical wall. They'd done so once, when she'd overestimated how much of him she could take.
"Fuck!" growled from their mouths, pained without pleasure.
Needless to say, neither wanted that to happen again.
"About the gigai," he said leadingly, returning to the present as his shaft filled with coaxed blood, hands coming to rest against her ass, her bubble butt filling his palms nicely.
Rukia looked up from where she was layering affections against his chest, amused gratification glinting in her eyes at how eager he was to touch her.
"A normal gigai can't get pregnant, Ichigo," she laughed, her voice thick and throaty with arousal.
"So you said," he acceded, drawing her in for a short peck. "But that was Kisuke."
"Point," Rukia admitted, lips twisting into a thoughtful pout. "He's not an idiot, though… and he was desperate back then. Things are different now." Shrugging, she sat up and grit her teeth as she stuffed herself full of his cock. "Fuuuck," she shuddered, legs quaking with the effort. Reaching back, she poked at what remained outside her body and scowled. There was nearly as much exposed to the cool air as there was inside her greedy cunt.
Ichigo wasn't willing to entertain doubtful thoughts, of course; and so, when he pulled her in for the millionth time, their kiss lasted for far longer than the one just before. Hands fisting in his hair, Rukia was all smiles, and he was much the same.
The Substitute was also far too amused by the sensitivity of her nipples, or so Rukia thought. Thumbs regularly brushing against them both whenever he wasn't edging her clitoris, Ichigo delighted in her mewls and groans. Together, they were exceedingly content with their shared circumstances.
Then the smaller of them reclaimed her previous position.
Breathing heavily, she met the amber of Ichigo's eyes with affectionate curiosity as she leveled an unasked question his way.
"So… I can't help but notice that between the two of us, you actually have experience in this matter…"
Ichigo outright scowled at the reminder, before offering Rukia a mildly apologetic look.
"Sorry," he said. "It's just… that wasn't my proudest moment."
The Kuchiki felt her ardour cool at his comment. "No," she shook her head. "I'm sor-"
Warm lips silenced her. Upright, her legs wrapped around his waist, Ichigo blew a purposefully irritating breath in Rukia's face, scattering her hair. He smirked at her offended expression.
"Don't be. It's more annoying than anything," he assured. "It was Riruka, by the way," because he knew she wanted to know. "I guess there was the Empyrean too… and Yoruichi, but Riruka was my first," and worst by far, but that went unsaid.
'Riruka…' Rukia hummed, recalling the cutesy foe she'd subdued prior to the Vandenreich's invasion. How and why Ichigo slept with her was easy to envision. The Empyrean was much the same - the Zero Division's foremost master of the blade was as famous for her killing strokes as she was bedding powerful warriors, and Ichigo had spent a lengthy period of private time with her while training in the Royal Realm. Yoruichi, though…
Rukia found it difficult to believe. "When did you bed the Flash Goddess?"
"It's stupid," was Ichigo's immediate response.
Hips rocked with what was literally naked intensity, and Ichigo found himself staring into unabashedly interested eyes. "Tell me," Rukia commanded, a distinctly sexual excitement leaking into her voice.
Ichigo's face went slack but for a quirk of his lips as he sighed, "A few months ago. She was teaching me some of her tricks, and one thing led to another." He scratched at the side of his face. "Yoruichi's why I know what to do with you. It's just – the way she seduced me was ridiculous as hell."
Morbid interest gripped Rukia with such strength, she nearly forgot about the girth inside her cunt.
Not understanding, but willing to go along with the Shinigami's desire for this knowledge, Ichigo rest his forehead against hers and stole a brief kiss.
"She stole my pants," he revealed. "Then she started losing parts of her clothing and winning stupid wagers… then she bet I wouldn't last one minute inside her 'perfect pussy without going Bankai.'"
"Did you?"
Seeing little else besides a desire to know in Rukia's mien, Ichigo shrugged, "I did," earning himself a roll of her hips.
With more prodding from Rukia and an intimately felt and seen creaming around his cock, Ichigo proceeded to detail the rest of his short sex life.
The lack of chemistry he shared with Riruka , the casual discarding he experienced at the Empyrean's ancient hands, and the sexually charged marathon he ran with Yoruichi after proving himself victorious - Ichigo spoke of it all against the shell of Rukia's ear, teasing her clit the whole while.
It was the oddest experience of his life, involving a sea of suppressed awkwardness. But he made it through. Eventually, Rukia stood up without comment, opened her closet and bent over. One hand on her bedding, the other toying with her pussy, she looked back with a demand in her eyes.
The time for talking was over, and so Ichigo obliged, wilfully ignoring the 'Bostov' Yuzu had sent over. Empty or not, it was weird for him. Just not enough to dissuade his attempt at turning Rukia into a pile of sexual satisfaction.
Penetrating just short of his maximum, Ichigo worked back and began pistoning. Pulling on raven locks with tentative strength, he wondered at the sight of the Shinigami's rippling cheeks.
Then Rukia's cunt was tightening, and he was lost in the sensation of her.
There was little sleep had that night, or the dozens which followed. Indeed, rest was at a premium.
Rather aptly, Ichigo and Rukia fucked like rabbits. All day, whenever possible, the two of them were exploring the other's body. While they usually succeeded in disallowing intrusions on their responsibilities, all else was unmarked territory. Tests came and went, tourneys were conquered, and trips taken with friends none the wiser. Byakuya's once 'pure as virgin snow' sister was invariably stuffed full of cock, while Soul Society's unintended hero studiously devoured that same woman's pussy.
Nowhere was sacred. The bed, the little library, the bathroom, the living room. Tables, walls chairs.
Ichigo did his best to entertain and enlighten, fuck and make love. Kissing Rukia never grew to be anything but delightful. His days were bliss.
For her, the matter was more complicated.
'Because of course it is,' she thought, lying against Ichigo's side.
Wakeful whereas he was asleep, she slowed her breathing and planted kisses against his shoulder, each touch a tender connection she couldn't help but cherish.
Rukia frowned, because she was well and truly in love. If this was one of Rangiku's poorly drawn manga, then now was the point in her story where a handsome stranger swept her into a whirlwind romance. Doubts equaled drama, after all.
But she wasn't some waifish flower to be coddled, let alone a traitor.
Shinigami. Lieutenant. Future Captain.
She was strong and resourceful…
Rukia huffed, tracing a finger across Ichigo's abdomen.
She also needed advice on how to proceed.
Ignorant of her plans, Ichigo sought wisdom of his own come the next day.
He wanted to make things official with Rukia, and there were only so many figures he trusted to give him legitimately worthwhile counsel.
Choice: Coincidental Decision -Voting closed - 91 voters
VOTES
Isshin
43/554
Yoruichi
27/32
Chad
14/141
Isshin
July 15, 2006
"-of rookies, let us discuss Todai's star pitcher: Kurosaki Ichigo! Having replaced Morimoto Takashi in May, he's proven himself an unstoppable force, with no hits since taking to the mound."
Isshin smiled to himself as he filed paperwork with faultless but thoughtless precision, letting the radio show wash over him. Outside, night's grip on Karakura was near absolute.
"Kato-san, you've been following Kurosaki-san's career since his high school debut, where he dragged the rest of Karakura into the Summer Koshien's quarter finals! After securing Todai's first ever Emperor's Cup, how do you think he'll fare in the All Japan University Baseball Championship Series?"
"One person does not make a team, Mori-san. That said," and Isshin thought the confidence his son had accidentally inspired eminently amusing, "I know if Kurosaki-san's shoulder keeps and his hitters play to their usual standards, an overwhelming victory isn't unrealistic."
"A bold claim, resting so much on a young man. Aren't you worried he might break under the pressure?"
"For another, I might agree. But we've seen Kurosaki-san rise to every occasion without fail. Still, you make a good point - and his opponent's only need to get lucky once or twice. Then there are the supernally talented batters, like his fellow rookie, Todoroki Raichi, who has gone on record as having said he is eagerly awaiting the opportunity to crush-"
Stretching his arms overhead, Isshin yawned before shutting the radio off alongside his alarm. After talking with his third daughter for a fraught hour, assuaging her worries and walking her through a multitude of next steps, his unwinding was much needed. But the time for rest was over now.
"Kids," he huffed, resisting the urge to pull out a cigarette; the chemicals were incapable of harming him, but Yuzu and Karin were uncomfortable with the scent.
Opening his desk drawer, Isshin exchanged his pen for a highlighter and got down to the nitty gritty. There were reviews in need of doing and materials to study - the life of a physician.
Perhaps another hour came and went before Ichigo called, by which time Karakura's luminance was wholly artificial.
'As expected,' Isshin grinned, capping his utensil and leaning back in his chair. Answering his phone, he waited until the call went through before speaking aloud.
"Ichigo, my boy!" he cried out, letting a smug smile manifest at the regretful groan he elicited.
"Goat-chin," grumbled into the father's ear.
"Have you called to receive my wisdom? Are you in debt to the yakuza? Did you marry a princess from a foreign land to the detriment of our family?!"
"No," Ichigo sighed, and Isshin settled down as his son tsked, "Well, yes. But only to the first one," and there was an extended period of quiet the Shinigami knew his son needed to gather his thoughts. Eventually, though: "When did you and mom become a couple?"
"Cutting right to it, huh?" Isshin smiled in remembrance and fondness both, and stared unseeing at the ceiling.
"Your mother was a hellion," he began with barked laughter. "I had no intention of disturbing her life anymore than I had. But she kept coming back to visit the little apartment I purchased with Kisuke's help, day after day, month after month, year after year. She'd bring sweets and movies, and she'd grill me on pop culture for however long she had."
"She was twenty when she said, 'Either take me on a date or take off my pants, Isshin! I'm tired of waiting on your dumbass!'" There was a groan on the other end of the line, but the Shinigami could tell his son was intrigued.
"We went to dinner later that night - it was some hole in the wall by her university that served crappy drinks and crappier food. Then she started talking about kids and houses, and dreams of the future… Masaki knew what she wanted, and she didn't hesitate in reaching for it. I suppose that… yeah, that was when we became official." Isshin grinned. "I never stood a chance."
"So, you didn't ask her?"
"No," he confirmed, voice warm in the face of his son's deliberate gruffness. "But I agreed. Love," he said, "is a choice. And I chose to reciprocate your mother's affections… But enough about me! Why do you ask, son?"
Much later, Isshin lay in bed. Despite his body heat, the sheets and mattress were cold.
'No different than yesterday,' he thought ruefully.
Holding up a photo of Masaski, he felt a smile tug at his lips, wedding band comfortably wrapped around his ring finger.
His wife was dead, and with her a truly monumental portion of his soul. But their children were thriving, and he knew that she'd be so terribly happy with Ichigo's developing love life.
"It's a shame Ichigo's heart is liable to be broken before long."
Isshin chuckled at Engetsu's sorrowful comment.
"My son is strong, and Rukia kind. They'll get through this."
More importantly, together or apart, their bond would survive.
They just needed to get past a difficult conversation or three.
Ichigo
Concurrently
Purple eyes looked down at Ichigo in shock as, "I love you," swept through the bedroom, his declaration twining with the scent of bruising sex to produce a silence whose breadth seemed to stretch towards infinity.
Hands on Rukia's hips, softening cock buried inside her quim, the Substitute berated himself for jumping the gun.
For her part, the Lieutenant choked on her response. With her lower half a half melted, irresponsive mass of warmth, she would admit to feeling the slightest bit ambushed. That said, she was mightily intrigued and flattered… flushed like an overripe tomato, too.
Similarly flustered, but ultimately committed, Ichigo soldiered on: "I mean it," he said, holding her stare. "I-"
Rukia kissed him, an irrepressible joy marking their connection that sang past seals and flesh to grace the spirit. For a moment in time too brief for description, they were as one.
"I love you too," she whispered, a calm settling with the voiced return. She sat up, fingers cradling her lover's face, carnality far flung from her mind.
Illuminated by the moon's glow, Ichigo thought she looked like a goddess, even as a heartbreakingly soft smile curved her lips.
"But?" he guessed.
Rukia nodded, fingers delicately drifting down to his chest.
"But," she agreed, mastering herself with a breath. "I have my duties. And our time is limited."
Ichigo's mouth twitched.
What followed was as much an argument as it was unrestrained passion.
Rukia knew she had to go eventually, but she wanted Ichigo for the next five years and nine months. That much selfishness, he was fine with. The Substitute was convinced he could make it work, somehow - and he was determined to follow through with that agreement. Another part of him thought he could give her a reason to stay… and in heated combat with its opposite which understood, admired, and respected her sense of duty.
Where Ichigo grew frustrated was Rukia's commitment to the idea that once she went back to Soul Society, they needed to end things for good.
"You have a human life to live. I refuse to hold you back from it," she'd glared, like life would be worth anything if she refused to be part of it. Seventeen months was enough, just the once. Never again.
Pinning Rukia's hands behind her back, pistoning like the world depended on driving her to orgasm as she frigged her cunt, Ichigo sneered at the idea of going back to cloudy skies. Once, it might have held merit. But he was past the thought of ever living a wholly normal life, uninvolved with Soul Society. He was a Quincy and a Fulbringer with the powers of a Shinigami and Hollow. He couldn't take a hundred steps outside the apartment without seeing a curse.
'Normal' existed on a separate plane of existence, as far as Ichigo was concerned - Soul Society was intrinsically tied to his future. The thought of his favourite Kuchiki moving on with someone else was disturbing, too. The Substitute was wise enough to recognize he was wildly possessive and jealous in certain regards. Oh, he would accept the development if ever it happened, because he wasn't one to pine. But he'd rage beforehand with everything he had. More importantly, following through with her plan wouldn't just hurt him.
Rukia screamed as she creamed and squirted, drenching the sheets and ringing his cock. Splayed on his bed, arms still locked in place, she was a quivering mess of pleasure, full of cum and selfishly selfless ideas on what was best for him.
Ichigo flipped the panting woman over and lined himself back up, reading the ready anticipation in her eyes. Legs coiling around his hips, she urged him on.
"So needy," he huffed, brushing stray hairs out of her face as he gave in, earning a long groan from the overly stimulated Shinigami. In response to his comment, Rukia glared for the umpteenth time since they began and pulled him in for a searing kiss that was all tongue and nipping teeth.
When they broke for air, she breathed past bruised lips, "I'm not the one who refuses to see sense."
"You want me to move on after six years," Ichigo drawled, thumbing her mouth in anticipation of her response. "Like that's at all reasonable."
Sucking on the digit, Rukia squeezed her cunt with vicelike strength, defiance in her eyes. She was still determined to make him see things her way. Ichigo grunted, balls churning as she redoubled her efforts, hands coming to rest on her sides as he was finally milked of his release.
"It is," she whispered, eyes fluttering closed as his familiar warmth seeded her.
Hand trailing up from where he'd been playing with Rukia's clit, Ichigo shook his head and deposited himself at her side. They lay there in stubborn silence, neither willing to consider breaking things off here and now. Eventually, it broke as Ichigo sighed.
"Why are you so set on me living out a human life?"
One divorced from her.
Rukia caught the subtext, of course, judging by the set of her jaw.
"Karin," she began lowly. "Yuzu, Orihime, Chad, Ishida, your father. Need I go on? Because there's Tatsuki and Keigo, and-"
Ichigo rolled the petite powerhouse over so that she was lying on his chest. Then he softly swatted her ass, utterly unapologetic at her offended hiss. His loved ones weren't why she wanted to break things off in the future.
"Your real reason," he grunted, unamused by the misdirection.
Rukia went quiet, hands flexing into fists.
"...I know you want to have a family," she whispered, looking away. "I can't give you that while you're human. And I don't want you following me. I… I want you to live the life I never did." Purple eyes dyed by undisguised confusion darted to meet his gaze.
"Does that make sense?"
Ichigo felt his frustrations melt away, because he could see where she was coming from. Knowing she'd died on Earth, only to find herself abandoned in the bad part of Rukongai; seeing for herself decades later, how life was for humanity…
"Yeah, it does," he sighed, stealing a soft kiss from Rukia's lips and luxuriating in their dance of tongues. Slowly, he pulled away.
Smirking, he said, "You're still being stupid, though."
"I am not!" Rukia disagreed, dark brows knitting together.
Ichigo headbutted her. Gently.
Choice: Ichigo's Response -Voting closed - 69 voters
VOTES
"You're family too, Rukia."
41/52
"Rukia, how many other Soul Reapers do you think I call friends? Or Arrancar? That world is my life as well"
27/34
"Says the Shinigami being stupid."
3/4
"I might not even want kids in six years. Don't go making bets on my behalf."
2/2
"You're family too, Rukia," and if that didn't get through her head, Ichigo was certain this would: "Besides, I have other Shinigami I consider friends. Then there's Nel and her Fraccion. I even have family in Kukaku and Ganju – need I go on?" he parroted, planting a kiss on her forehead. "I've got a million reasons to interact. So. No more stupid, 'I can't give you a family.' I've got plenty already."
Rukia shook in his arms with repressed emotion for long seconds before daring to glance up with a tearful glare. In her voice, put upon anger roiled alongside expectation to form harshly whispered words.
"And when you want children?"
Ichigo shrugged, "If we get there, I can wait," as he wiped her cheeks clean. "For now, can we both agree that planning to break up ahead of time is a dumb idea?"
"...Yes," Rukia swallowed, and that was the end of their argument as the bedroom was plunged into supremely thoughtful silence. Then came a tug of Ichigo's hair - still uncut from months ago - and a motion for him to roll over. Eyes wide as he followed her unspoken order, skin silvery beneath night's splendor, Rukia raised one hand to his cheek while the other descended.
Her request was clear, and Ichigo all too willing to soothe her hurts.
Tender and vulnerable like rawest wounds, they made love until morning.
~
Ichigo: Luck
Roll: bo3 1d100
5, 49, 70 (DC: 100), Failure
~
Life changed, from that night onward. In ways big and small, and altogether ordinary.
For one, Ichigo was more open with his affections. More forward, too. He kissed Rukia breathless without a care for what others saw and was smiling increasing frequency. Meals and studying involved as much physical contact as possible, and his sex life managed to see a qualitative improvement as he and Rukia tested the limits of their respective bodies. His friends and family noticed the change, of course. Some reacted positively, others with utmost exasperation. Uryu, for example:
"You finally went ahead and got with her," he snorted over the phone, his disappointment tangible. " It only took you three years."
And still others took it much harder. Or rather, one other. Ichigo was ignorant of the regretful depression his relationship wrought, and with some luck he might never learn. But that was a battle he was entirely uninvolved with.
For now, the Substitute had a vacation to plan and Karakura friends to incorporate. Summer break was soon to come, after all.
Meanwhile…
~
Chad: Luck
Roll: bo3 1d100
41, 13, 37 (DC: 30/90), Success
~
Choice: Interlude -Voting closed - 9 voters
VOTES
Jujutsu Higher Ups: Fuck, Shit, Goddamnit
5/7
Chad: Starry Souls, Fateful Encounters
2/3
???: All According to Keikaku
1/21
Arima
July 27th, 2006
Tsuchimikado Arima was of a more liberal persuasion than his colleagues. The youngest too, being forty instead of sixty at the least. But he was no firebrand fool, unread in the deepest histories and secrets. He wouldn't have ascended to his current position, if he were.
So, Arima knew well the dangers which lurked in the classified Dead Zones which he and his forebears had worked so hard to keep their fellow sorcerers from discovering.
'Oh look, a place without curses. Surely, it must be safe,' he thought in an exaggerated tone, shaking his head as he read over a report detailing the investigation he was heading. More than a few intrepid sorcerers had met their doom betwixt the teeth of a curious Hollow, after stumbling into an area absent cursed energy. It was always a completely avoidable waste of resources, and a potential source of conflict with those responsible for slaying the otherworldly spirits.
"Shinigami," he muttered musingly, fingers drumming against his desk. Arima had never had the misfortune of meeting one himself, but there were those who had - always, their tales involved great peril.
To know their residuals had been discovered near central Tokyo was concerning. They weren't supposed to venture far from the Dead Zones, after all. To know they couldn't find them after weeks of searching was similarly troubling, but not nearly as much as the estimations that had been made.
"Yeah, no luck. Wherever these weird guys went, I can't find 'em." Irreverent to the last, Gojo Satoru's tone was unapologetic in the extreme.
Arima was tempted to chastise him for his failure, but he had a conscionable bone; a survivalist one, too. Yes, the eminently arrogant bearer of the Six Eyes was irritating. And yes, Arima desired to bend the brat over bended knee so he could administer punishment for previous slights. But the boy was obscenely strong. Practically untouchable. His friends were also too valuable or powerful to threaten. Usually, a mixture of the two.
Yoshida Itsuki was neither of those things, being a patsy for the Kamo – he was also stupid, having 'earned' his position by dint of age and luck more than any self-professed wisdom. Voice audibly sneering, he derided Gojo: "You failed, then. Perhaps the Six Eyes aren't as powerful as purported… or perhaps you're simply less talented than we've been led to believe."
Arima resisted the urge to slap a hand over his face, because antagonizing their greatest asset was simply bad business. Gojo would break before bending to their whims, let alone their insults.
'Idiot,' he labeled the older man whose vices included heinous hentai absolutely no one in the know was comfortable with broaching.
The brat sniffed, seeming amused. Arima knew those blue eyes of his - bared for their viewing displeasure - were fully aware of their every twitch, and so was unsurprised when the heir didn't bother looking at Itsuki.
Throwing his hands behind his head, lackadaisical in his humming, Satoru said, "Naaah. You just asked for the impossible," and in his mind, those words were absolute truth.
'If Gojo Satoru can't do something, no one can,' a simple enough idea that reeked of supreme hubris.
"Anyways," the boy waved, "I checked out the cursed spirit's leftovers. That thing was nasty. But it wasn't actually there when it fought. Curses leave more of a mark when they die, you know - or maybe you don't." He shrugged. "The point is, this one didn't. So, judging by its remnants… definitely a Special Grade. Probably capable of duplication or projection of the self." Yawning as he continued on his way, he said, "I'll be going, now. More important things to do than listen to you fossils," and there was naked dismissal in his voice. Arima could taste it and the derision dripping from his voice.
Such disrespected warranted censure, at the very least. And yet, none gainsaid his departure. So passed a minute in silence… then everyone was spitting mad.
"I cannot believe-"
"We cannot allow-"
"The sheer gall-"
"The unadulterated arrogance-"
The reactions were as unoriginal as ever. Arima thought those speaking hypocritically boorish. Mildly entertaining, too. Eventually, though, he grew tired of their vitriol and cleared his throat.
"If I may?" he asked for propriety's sake, earning gruff grunts and acceptance. "Thank you," he smiled, his expression hidden by the protective veil each of them wore. Calmly, he let his voice carry.
"To begin with, Gojo Satoru has raised a worrying point: a Special Grade capable of manifesting itself without risk of perishing is extremely dangerous for us and the general population. Moreover, it targeted a potential Shinigami."
"We're still uncertain if it was a Shinigami in truth, or someone with powers like them."
Arima shook his head, for all that the action went mostly unseen. "The difference is hardly semantical, Gakuganji-dono. Feeling as if your cursed energy is being suppressed? A multitude of manifested effects? Memory loss? Altogether, the picture painted is perfectly clear. And so what if it isn't a Shinigami? Better to approach this more tact than less."
"Fair points, Tsuchimikado-dono," Gakuganji yielded, the admission grudging.
Inwardly acknowledging he had true command of the room's attention in the wake of such, Arima breathed a sigh. The principal of Jujutsu Tech's Kyoto branch was a moderating force who held the respect and trust of many. Had he contested instead of conceding…
Arima continued: "Ultimately, what's important is discovering why the supposed Shinigami was targeted, then stopping the curse from causing injury or worse. If a Shinigami dies, another will show to investigate."
"And if they perish and a pattern is established, stronger ones will follow," Kobayashi continued, the gravity of his voice conveying a grave realization. "We cannot allow that."
'Indeed, we can't,' Arima mused, striding towards the doors of the Great Sorcery Chamber.
Therein, he was met by a wall of noise; an angry, panicked swell of geriatric voices.
Unconcerned and sooner than expected, Gojo Satoru rocked back and forth on his heels. His uniform was scuffed and burned, and drenched in dried blood, and his presence far more controlled than just weeks ago, when last he was here – Arima thought his cursed energy almost muted, in truth. Hands in his pockets, he was staring at the Chamber's quarterly elected leader and getting the figure to twitch.
"Yo," he said without looking, the first to notice Arima's arrival.
"Greetings, Gojo-san. You're early," Arima observed in return, looking to break the tension.
"And you have eyes. Congrats!"
Arima heard the boy's grin, and felt his own face twitch uncomfortably. Swiftly taking his seat, he opened his mouth to make an inquiry into the boy's most recent mission. Clarification was required. What scattered reports had made it to his desk spoke of pure chaos; and now, with the Star Plasma Vessel missing, a replacement was needed for Tengen-sama. If the ancient sorcerer lost his humanity, travesty could well span the world as barriers weakened in their thousands. Not for nothing did Jujutsu Tech work so diligently to his benefit.
Having failed for the second time in recent history - and on such an important mission, at that - it was only right that Gojo ameliorated the issue. Or so Arima thought. As per usual when 'the strongest' was involved, his nascent plans were foiled.
"So," the boy clapped cheerily, forcefully dispelling all noise with an unseen application of the much venerated Limitless. "I lied."
Arima chewed on those words, while Gakuganji ventured forth:
"In what capacity, Gojo-san?" he asked, doubtlessly stroking his beard.
Looking at all of them and none of them at the same time as his gaze turned towards the ceiling, the bearer of the Six Eyes smiled leadingly. "Oh, about this and that. Like Riko-chan's whereabouts!
"You know where the Star Plasma Vessel is?!" Yoshida accused, his patience running short.
"Of course I do. I helped save her life." The boy's smile withered and was replaced by uncompromising steel as he turned his attention to the dumbest of those assembled, giving the elder cause to quiver. "I'm here to guarantee it, now. Riko-chan doesn't want to merge with Tengen."
Arima swallowed at the naked threat in that statement.
Cowed in a startlingly different fashion, Kobayashi snarled. "You would endanger the world for the life of a single girl?!"
The boy's features turned bemused. Grimacing, he took a hand out from his pockets and held it up to an ear. "Ehhh? Was I not clear enough? You growing hard of hearing, old man?"
Arima stared, hard, truly looking at the bedraggled sorcerer before him as a debate began raging. He found naught but strength and a willingness to exercise it. There was an almost casual disregard in place of youthful dismissal… and his cursed energy; what was once muted began stirring.
Gojo noticed his focus, and for a scant second Arima was made the center of his attention, swallowed whole by the Six Eyes and their twin skies. Shivering, he felt the need for flight engage, jerking his body backwards the most minute of distances as an utterly oppressive difference in standing made itself known.
'And with just a glance…' Arima breathed out as Gakuganji spoke.
"Suguru Geto's report detailed the presence of several anomalies, though he himself only came across two of their number. Before we continue this line of dialogue, I would hear of the others." He sounded weary and resigned.
Gojo smiled, "Sure," and so spun a tale.
In the hours which followed, three names became of immense interest to Arima and his fellow Chamber Elders.
Yasutora Sado - a young man whose strength Gojo labeled as Special Grade.
Michibane Aura - a young woman whose abilities Gojo labeled as Special Grade.
Tachibana Senna - a young girl whose presence Gojo labeled as impossible.
The first had physically outmatched Zen'in Toji despite grievous injuries; the same assassin who had haunted their society for years as a ghost, crushing his every challenger by way of overwhelming physicality. The second had stalemated the bearer of the Six Eyes while attempting to steal the Star Plasma Vessel, rendering the boy's attempts at retaliation moot through intangibility. The third…
"She has more cursed energy than all of us put together."
"Us?"
Gojo's smile twisted, turning ever so slightly unhinged.
"Everyone," he clarified in a whisper.
Arima was not in charge of researching those persons, but he was dedicated to securing the youngest of them. How Tachibana Senna's well of power remained undetected until the Star Plasma Vessel - her 'best friend' - came under threat, he was uncertain. But it was imperative the girl was taken into protective custody. Both for her sake and that of his fellow sorcerers.
Unless Gojo was exaggerating, she was a thing worth starting wars over – and the fool boy had her hidden away with Amanai Riko, out of reach.
Needless to say, the plans of Arima and his fellows were panicked. Desperate, too.
Ichigo
Concurrently
Ignorant of their struggles, Ichigo got off the phone with Chad. Lain across the couch, a slumbering Rukia tucked against his side, the movie they were watching continued playing absent an audience. Moonlight streamed through the wide window on his right, lending a harsh cast to already severe features. He set his cell down on the coffee table and breathed. In… and out.
Then, "Fuck," whispered into the night, caustic and castigating, and Rukia grumbled sleepily at the resonance of his chest, for which he smoothed her hair. It was dampened by their earlier activity, but silken still… calming, too.
Learning all that he'd missed, because Earth's oily Spirit Pulse worsened his limited senses… Ichigo was an unhappy camper. Ultimately resigned, though. Chad could fight without much care in the way of restraint while in the Living World, due to the relatively benign effects Fullbringers had on their surroundings. The same couldn't be said of himself. More besides, the Substitute recognized he was far from strong enough to stand beside his friend - at least so long as the fighting was pitched enough to risk Chad's health.
"Fuck," he repeated, envisioning the injuries Chad had described.
"-was strange. But powerful. He took both ears, and my right arm. I don't think he survived my counter, but if you run into him, be careful."
Sleep would evade Ichigo for long hours as he grappled with a familiar impotence turned inside out.
'I'm too strong to protect the people I love… what a joke.'
Friday, July 28th, 2006
Morning saw Ichigo met with a beautiful sight: Rukia throating his cock like she was made to do it, face crimson from the effort. Coupled with the provided sensations, he was sufficiently distracted from being dour until breakfast was over and done with. Then came a couple of hard conversations; ones which would have normally put him in a funk. Except, Rukia was determined to keep his mood relatively uplifted.
Thus - after exhaustive debates and acceptances, and quickies between classes - now.
"I've got pitcher's training, Rukia."
"Mmhm," she returned, eminently pleased from her place atop his lap.
Looking at the tickets she was waving about, Ichigo palmed his face and groaned, "We're supposed to go to the beach. Everyone agreed."
"And we will," Rukia assured, patting his chest like she might a particularly adorable puppy. "It's just, some of us will be relaxing there for longer. Like you." Smiling brightly, she said, "I already convinced your coaches and friends, and I know you're ahead in all of your classes… so, no more complaints. We are going to enjoy our time. There will be no danger, you will destress, and I will finally get around to seeing if this gigai of mine can properly tan," and that was that.
Much later, their plane landed.
Choice: Partially Addressed Issue -Voting closed - 76 voters
VOTES
To Be Loved is Lovely: Orihime
33/453
Siblings and Company: Senna and Riko
31/401
15 Shades of Untoward Violence: Curses
7/7
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone