Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Murder My Heart ❯ Tempers ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.

 

(A/N: Okay… school is effectively crushing my soul. What I hate is that all of us are being geared towards all of the standardized tests we can handle and don't get any art or creative activities. All I want to do is write poetry and fanfics and paint but all I do is memorize facts I'll never use again in my life.

Please note I have been in school for two days now.

Anyway, enjoy the new chapter, things will progress slowly until they actually heat up if you catch my drift.

PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!!! Ja ne and enjoy!!!)

 

Chapter 1

 

“Damn it!” Cried Detective Kurosaki, he threw a thick folder onto the desk and watched as the papers slid off his desk and scattered across the floor. Angrily, he hoisted out of his chair and practically threw himself at the coffee machine. The precinct took the time to stare at him as he swallowed three consecutive cups of stale coffee. Fighting a slight gag in his throat he shuddered slightly and stormed back to his desk.

 

File after file sat atop his oak veneer, records of old cases the top detective Byakuya Kuchiki had investigated, solved, and won. Murderers, rapists, serial killers, kidnappers, frauds—he knew how to catch and manhandle any type of low life scum.

 

He rifled through the gargantuan stack and sighed dejectedly. How in the hell was he suppose to find the son of a bitch who murdered Kuchiki if the man had so many God damn enemies? Grumpily, he returned to his work, a hard frown on his face.

 

The door to the chief's office opened with a deafening bang; Detective Kurosaki jerked his head in the direction of his bosses heavy footfalls and began to grumble; of all the days to get his ass chewed out why did Kenpachi have to pick today? He didn't need it, not when he had a murdered detective on his hands.

 

“Kurosaki,” the chief barked thunderously, his spiked hair waving dangerously in the air. The detective scowled and let his eyes dart around the room, everyone within earshot paused and looked up, Kurosaki grunted, nosy bastards. The Lou came closer to him and rumbled, “I heard you found Byakuya Kuchiki's body two nights ago.”

 

The detective scowled again, “Yeah, I was on the scene. What about it?” He muttered as he scowled defiantly at his boss. He already knew what this was about.

 

Kenpachi gritted his teeth, lifted his eye patch from his scarred face, and snarled, “I also heard that you made his sister cry.”

 

Detective Kurosaki raised his hands in an irritated gesture. Normally, the terrifying effect of both of the captain's eyes was alarming, but the Detective had had those eyes on him one too many times to be scared. “Hey, I didn't know she was his sister.” He said defensively, “She was disturbing the body and I had every right to call her on it.”

 

“I'm not okaying what she did,” He snapped, “But you could have been a bit more sensitive before you,” he looked down at the piece of paper he had crinkled in his hand and grimaced, “`Shined a light in the DOA's face and neck while showing it to the victims' sister, Detective Rukia Kuchiki.'” He glared at the Kurosaki and placed both hands on his desk, leaning forward so his scarred face was only inches away. “What the hell were you thinking, Detective?”

 

The man in question glowered and rose slightly from his desk, making him eye level with the angered chief, “I was thinking about a dead body on the streets, I was thinking about IDing him before he became another John Doe in the morgue, and I was also thinking that the woman in front of me could help.” He scowled heavily and continued, “I wasn't thinking about her identity or her connection to the vic or even her detective's badge.”

 

“Well then you should start, shouldn't you?” His voice boomed, causing everything in the room to ring with deadly silence. Angrily, Kenpachi pushed himself away from the desk and began to pace. Kurosaki watched him with stride back and forth in the crammed space. His large body bumped against desk after desk as he trampled the strewn papers on the floor.

 

Kurosaki grimaced, “She shouldn't have gone. She knew what she was getting into; her supervisor shouldn't have allowed her to go.”

 

“That's just it,” Kenpachi muttered, “Her Lou didn't even know she was gone until Detective Abarai came and asked where she was.”

 

“Then she doesn't have any sense of professional responsibility.” Kurosaki grumbled as he leaned down in his chair and retrieved a couple of his trampled papers. He tugged at one the moment his boss stepped on it, successfully ripping the paper. “She shouldn't have made an emotional connection.”

 

“Well of course,” Kenpachi muttered as he gave the Detective a hard look, “But that doesn't mean that I haven't already gotten three calls from the two eight complaining about your behavior.”

 

“Whiners,” the Detective huffed, straightening the papers and then spreading them out on the desk. “She'll get a psyche exam, be given a few weeks off and in a while she'll be back.”

 

“She already had a psyche exam,” the Lou told him in a salty tone. “And she passed.”

 

Kurosaki flicked his eyes at his boss, “No shit?”

 

“Yeah, she barely passed but she did.” He gave him a hard stare, “Apparently, compassion and grief are actual human emotions, you should try them out Kurosaki.”

 

“Already did,” he muttered sourly as he leaned back in his chair, “Didn't like it.”

 

“All the same, I want you to go over to the two eight and attempt to apologize to her.” He ordered harshly.

 

The detective sputtered on another swig of stale coffee and fought as he tried to sit upright. He stared wide-eyed at the 31st precinct's lieutenant, a drip of coffee dribbling from the side of his mouth. “You've got to be joking.” He cried angrily.

 

“No,” the Lou said, “I'm not. I don't want anymore tension between us and those pussy-lickers over at the two eight.” He pounded his fist on the detective's desk and caused more than one person in the room to jump in their seats. But not Detective Kurosaki—he wouldn't be intimidated, not by his boss, not by anyone. “Your problem to solve, not mine, so get your ass over there and handle it.”

“But I didn't even do anything! He yelled slightly as the Lou began to retreat to his office.

 

Before he crossed the threshold and slammed the door in the Detectives face, the Lieutenant turned back and shouted, “This isn't about feelings, it's about politics! Be there at noon or your ass is fired!”

 

He banged the door closed behind him. Detective Kurosaki narrowed his eyes and clenched his hands into a fist, deftly, he threw his balled hand down onto the desk veneer and let out a frustrated yell. With another heaving shout Detective Kurosaki swiped his coat off the back of his chair, his keys out of his pocket, and was out of the door in a matter of seconds.

 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

 

Traffic was annoying.

 

Detective Kurosaki—Ichigo to those who knew him well—considered throwing his siren on the top of the car and speeding through each light in order to get to the two eight just a bit faster. He scowled, just so he could leave a bit faster.

 

Damn his boss. Damn him for making him go down to the two eight and apologize to some namby-pamby wuss of a detective. For what, showing her a body she happened to be related to? Pussy.

 

Not that she would be in the precinct anyway, she was probably at her tiny apartment somewhere in the city, crying her eyes out over her dead brother. People die, big deal, it's only a matter of how and when.

 

He stopped at a bright red light and scanned the streets—it was a habit. It started off after his first collar. You had to be vigilant, on the alert at any and every moment. You never know when someone might try and rob an old man on the street or rape a woman in some dank alleyway. The world was a disgusting place, where murderers ran free and crime happened regularly. But it seemed that only the innocent ever died. The ones that deserved death either got away with it or were put in a cell somewhere, fed three meals a day, and got fresh air… all to be “punished.”

 

Disgusted with his bleak train of thought—even though it was the truth—Ichigo charged forward when the light changed to a dim shade of green… he desperately wanted to get this over with.

 

The two eight was only a four miles away from the three one, which was made it exceedingly difficult to determine which precinct would handle which cases. Almost every time a body was found on the boarder there were verbal—and sometimes physical—confrontations. Ichigo had been at the three one only two years but he already detested the cocky cops from the two eight. They were impulsive, unprofessional—if the detective from last night was any indication—and they always had to get in the three one's business.

 

Ichigo scowled and maneuvered his car so it would fit in a tight parking space directly in front of the two eight. Gripping the wheel tightly he screwed a frown onto his face and threw open the door.

 

But not this time… no, this time there wasn't going to be any debate between the two eight and the three one. The body was found on his turf so he was going to solve this.

 

He got out of the vehicle and lightly shook his head in the grey morning sun. Good God he hated this place. He had only been here a handful of times but he still hated it. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed a sour taste in his mouth and clomped up the steps.

 

He opened the door to the two eight and took stock of what was before him. It looked exactly like the three one, desks bunched together, people crammed behind them looking haggard and worn as they answered phone after phone and filed paper after paper. The coffee machine at the edge of the room looked over-used and worn and people were drinking from it as if it was the fountain of youth. Ichigo sighed and made his way across the packed room, occasionally tripping over a phone cord or a coat sleeve or even someone's foot. He apologized briefly and continued, heading straight for the back office.

 

He stood outside and shrugged his shoulders softly before he rapped lightly on the oak door in front of him.

 

“Enter.” Said the voice on the inside.

 

Ichigo quirked an eyebrow up. `Enter,' did this guy think that he was from the 13th century? He sighed and shook his head before opening the door and slipping through. Ichigo took a second to appraise the room as he came inside; it was a sparse place save the copious amount of metal plates commending his work as an excellent police officer.. There were no pictures of family members or children plastered on the walls—only medals of recognition from the city as well as a diploma from the police academy and at least twenty other plaques praising either bravery or smarts. Ichigo snickered slightly—somebody wanted people to know who was boss.

 

He strode forward, his footfalls were heavy on the wooden floor, heavy enough to make the man hunched over the desk look up. By the looks of things he was a very tall man, around forty years old with graying brown hair and thick black glasses framing his brown eyes. He had a crinkled but warm smile that he presented to Ichigo after he raised his head from the papers he was working on.

 

“Can I help you?” He asked kindly.

 

Ichigo felt himself cringe inside, compared to his lieutenant this guy's voice had more sugar in it than a children's television show. No policeman should ever sound like that, he thought bitterly.

 

But instead of throwing up inside of his mouth, Ichigo forced a smile through his teeth—God that was painful—and said, “Yes,” he dug into his pocket and pulled out his badge and flashed it quickly at the Lou. “I'm Detective Ichigo Kurosaki from the three one—”

 

The man behind the desk whistled softly and chuckled, “Walking into dangerous territory aren't you Detective?”

 

Ichigo tried not to scowl, “I'm under orders.” He stated plainly.

 

The man quirked his eyes, “Oh? From whom, might I ask?”

 

“My lieutenant,” he answered quickly, “Zaraki Kenpachi.”

 

The man's smile waned slightly before he asked softly, “To do what?”

 

Ichigo could tell that the man already knew the answer. He was just playing with him. Ichigo scowled even harder. The one thing he hated more than being played was being made a fool of.

 

He gritted his teeth and answered, “I think you already know the answer to that.”

 

The man nodded slowly and smirked, “I do. After all, I was the one who contacted Kenpachi after Abarai filed his report.”

 

“Are we in a police precinct or a third grade classroom?” Ichigo ground out as he crossed his arms menacingly over his chest. “I tell it like it is at a crime scene, she goes into hysterics, and you expect me to come crawling back and apologize for hurting her feelings?”

 

The Lou's smile became harder as he leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head. “You didn't crawl…” he said simply, “You drove.”

 

Ichigo began to growl. The man behind the desk didn't let his eyes off of Ichigo's stoic form. After a moment he sighed and rose, coming back from behind the bureau and standing before the angry detective. “Let's not start off on the wrong foot. We already know that you and I dislike each other only because we're from different precincts,” he offered a limp smile and said, “But let's be friends just for today. I'm Lieutenant Aizen, nice to meet you.” He extended his hand and Ichigo begrudgingly shook it.

 

“Likewise,” the detective said blandly.

 

Aizen shook his head lightly and went back to his desk. Almost loftily he picked up the phone and dialed a few numbers. He paused for a moment and then said, “Yes… Kuchiki? Come here please.” He nodded and set the phone down then turned to Ichigo. “She'll be here momentarily.”

 

Ichigo jerked his head in acknowledgement.

 

It only took a few more seconds before there was a slight knock and a rather short woman stepped through the door. She saw her Lieutenant first and frowned lightly, “You wanted to see me?”

 

Aizen smiled softly, “I didn't,” he said warmly as he pointed towards Detective Kurosaki, “He did.”

 

The female detective followed the direction he was pointing in, when her eyes hit the orange haired detective they immediately widened and scowled simultaneously. The dark circles under her violet eyes combined with the red rims surrounding them made it seem like she could kill him with a single glance. Oddly enough, Detective Kurosaki felt his heart speed up and wondered if she was working some sort of voodoo curse on him.

 

Aside from her eyes the Detective noticed things about her that he had not noticed two nights ago—when it was pouring rain and black as a bottomless pit. Her skin was a creamy white color that seemed to go on endlessly all over her body. She had small but strong arms, and he could just imagine those arms grabbing fleeing suspects three times larger, slamming them into the ground, and slapping cuffs on their wrists. She possessed a small waist that curved at the hip, giving her a sharp hourglass figure that led down to tiny legs and feet you could even call delicate.

 

She was dressed conservatively, brown slacks covered her small legs and a pale blue, high cut, sweater hid the entirety of her pale skin and shapely figure. She had her badge clipped to the waist of her pants and in the dim light from the office it was the only thing on her—beside her eyes that is—that shined.

 

Ichigo finished his scrutiny in silence and felt turned his eyes on her menacing face—never had he seen a woman look so well, unwomanly before. The way she was staring at him now… he felt like his face might just melt off.

 

“What,” she muttered quietly, “do you want?”

 

“Now, now, Rukia…” Lieutenant Aizen murmured teasingly, “Play nice,” he moved towards the door and opened it softly, “I'll be back in a minute.”

 

He offered one more smile before exiting and shutting the door behind him, leaving the two detectives alone in his office. Ichigo wondered as the Lou was departing what exactly he would say to the distraught woman before him. Should he try to comfort her? Should he attempt to give her a hug? Should he try to apologize? Yes, he thought contentedly, an apology would be good… even though it was all technically her fault.

 

However, as soon as the door was closed, there wasn't a chance for him to say a word before Detective Rukia Kuchiki opened her mouth and snapped, “Any leads?”

 

Ichigo started at the question and frowned when he noticed that she had her arms crossed and was staring at him with another lethal glare. She narrowed her eyes and shook her head as if to say: “Spit it out you ass.”

 

Slowly, he shook his head and said clearly, “No leads.”

 

“Have you canvassed the area?” She asked quickly.

 

“Yes,” he answered, “No witnesses.”

 

“Any DNA evidence on the body?” She continued roughly, “Was there a sexual assault? Was it a rage killing or was the suspect covering up anything? Have you gone through his contacts? His enemies? Did you find any evidence at the crime scene that wasn't washed away by the rain? Any fingerprints on the body? Was it a dump job? Was it done on the site? Were there tire marks? Was there anything that would give you any idea of who might have killed him?”

 

She looked down at the ground as the questions rushed out of her and when she was finished she looked up. Ichigo was surprised to see hard hope glistening in her eyes—but no tears. How was she not crying anymore? She had been a wreck two nights ago. But more than that, why was there any hope in her eyes? From what he could tell, the kill had been perfect and if all truth be told, his gut was screaming that they wouldn't find anything.

 

Her eyes widened and she waved her hands to get his attention, “Well?”

 

Ichigo frowned and took a step forward; he didn't have any notions of kindness or apology left in his mind, now it was simply a matter of calculation. Stopping directly before her, he made sure to stare the detective in the eye. He paused for a moment and then muttered, “Why do you want to know?”

 

“Why do I—” she started she coiled away from him, “He was my brother for Christ's sake! Why wouldn't I want to know?”

 

“Your Lieutenant is keeping you off the case.” Ichigo said with definition. He tried to look her in the eye but she was now avoiding his gaze. “He's not letting you near it. He knows you'll get to emotional.”

 

“I will not!” Detective Kuchiki yelled loudly as she jerked her head upwards and stared at him defiantly. “I know better than to let emotions get in the way!”

 

“Then explain what you were doing at the crime scene two nights ago.” Ichigo demanded as he stepped away from her and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“Are you blind?” She cried, “I IDed the body!”

 

“And you threw up directly afterwards,” he pointed out, “Not to mention started crying. Don't tell me emotions didn't get in the way.”

 

“You bastard,” she growled at him. Her fists were balled at her sides and she was snarling like a rabid dog. Ichigo knew she was furious and mentally he was kicking himself; his boss was going to fry him alive for upsetting the female detective even more—especially when he was supposed to be apologizing to her.

 

But before he was able to retract any of his idiotic statements she was in front of him. Ichigo jerked away in surprise but a moment later he felt a squeezing around his throat. She had her pointer finger and her thumb pinched around his adams apple, sufficiently pressuring his esophagus and effectively cutting off his air supply.

 

“Ack!” He coughed as he felt himself being strangled.

 

“Listen to me,” Rukia Kuchiki growled as her grip on his throat tightened significantly, “I might not be able to work on this case, but you can… and if you don't find out who is responsible I swear to mother fucking God that I will come to the three one, take the case from you, and then kill you myself.”

 

She removed her hand from his neck and shoved it against his shoulder. Ichigo was so caught off guard—with the whole trying to breathe thing—that he staggered and fell against the door with a hard thump. Apparently, however, Detective Rukia Kuchiki wasn't finished with him, because not a moment later she shoved him out of the way and yanked open the door.

 

“Get out.” She growled, “If I want to know anything about the case I'll call you, but until then…” she paused and swallowed hard, “Catch the son of a bitch or else you'll have me to answer to.”

 

Ichigo coughed and choked out, “You bi—”

 

“Is there a problem, detectives?”

 

The detectives in the room jumped at the sound of Lieutenant Aizen's soft voice permeating the angry office air. The Lou was leaning against the door frame, his eyes examining the adults before him.

 

Ichigo glared at the easy-going Lieutenant and shook his head harshly. “No problem, I was just leaving.” He said coldly, his voice still raw from the choking he had just endured.

 

“Yes,” Detective Kuchiki reinforced as she widened the door significantly, “He was.”

 

“Don't think that this is over,” he growled, rubbing his throat softly—good God, he should have expected that.

 

Detective Kuchiki glared at him, “Is that a threat, Detective?”

 

Ichigo smirked and shook his head, forcing a rough smile through his mouth, “Of course not,” he had to work hard not to snarl, “I only mean that this case isn't over—which means that we're not over.” He stepped closer to her, he couldn't say they were nose to nose because that was not only a massive understatement but physically impossible. “And maybe it's a slight threat, so don't forget it.” He added before he could stop himself.

 

“Oh yes, because it's so hard not to,” she snapped sarcastically before posing in a mocking a bow and indicating towards the door. “You can leave now.”

 

“Gladly,” Ichigo snarled, he maneuvered his way past the angry woman and casually smiling Lieutenant. Furiously, he pushed through the cramped desks and bee-lined for the door. Never had such a little woman made him so angry! Detective Kurosaki strode to his car and yanked open the drivers' side door—almost running into the frisky traffic to his left—and glared once more at the two eight.

 

Huffing indignantly he decided that he'd send her an apology note.

 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

 

Lieutenant Aizen closed the door behind him and gave a friendly glower to his best detective, “A little hostile weren't we?”

 

Rukia snorted, “Not anymore than I should have been,” she turned to him and lifted an eyebrow, “Did you know that he pointed his gun at me?”

 

“Truly?” He asked.

 

“Yeah,” she mumbled saucily, “I showed him my badge when I arrived. But later when he showed me my brother's face with that light and I ran off to throw up he must have thought I was someone pretending to be a cop and shoved his gun in my face.”

 

“Interesting.”

 

Kuchiki glared at the floor, “Are you sure you don't want me on this case?”

 

Lieutenant Aizen sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder; she didn't move but shifted so her violet eyes were boring into his brown ones. He smiled a half-hearted smile and shook his head. “It's policy, Detective; I can't let you work on it.” He shrugged, “And besides, he was found on the three one's territory, we shouldn't interfere.”

 

Kuchiki wrinkled her nose, “Leave it to the three one and that hack detective to mess things up.”

 

Aizen squeezed his shoulder and sighed as he moved towards his desk. He sat down and stretched languidly as he shook his head. “He might be from the three one but he's no hack.”

 

Rukia turned her head toward her Lieutenant and frowned, “What do you mean?”

 

The Lou placed his hands at the back of his head, “Detective Ichigo Kurosaki is his name, he's only been with the three one for two years but in that time he's cleared over seventy homicides and a couple of cold cases. He doesn't have a rap sheet, he's never used his weapon unnecessarily, and in many precincts he's known as the Ruthless Strawberry.”

 

Rukia blinked twice, “Excuse me?”

 

“The Ruthless Strawberry,” Aizen said smilingly, “I know, but apparently `Ichigo' can also mean strawberry, he's not too happy about the cutesy name but it's stuck.” He paused and grinned, “At least yours is better, `Killer Kuchiki' has a nice ring to it.”

 

The Detective's face dropped, “Can we not talk about Kuchiki's and being killed please?”

 

Aizen nodded softly and murmured, “You know you have time off you can take.”

 

“I don't want to,” she answered immediately. “Byakuya wouldn't have wanted me to sit around crying about him. Truth be told we weren't that close, he adopted me into his family but I knew nothing about him.”

 

“But you were just getting to,” Aizen asked. “Weren't you?”

 

She nodded solemnly, “That's why I'm so upset…” she sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “Look,” she began as she turned to her boss and grimaced, “He married my sister and I knew nothing about her, so when I was found I thought, `man, I finally have some kind of family,' but the moment we start to get to know one another someone fucking kills him!” She sighed heavily and shook her head despairingly. “No, he wouldn't want me crying for him. He'd want me to get back to work and figure out who…did it.” she swiveled her head and glared hard at the Lieutenant, “Which I can't do unless I'm actually able to work on the case!”

 

“No can do Kuchiki,” he shrugged heavily. “I can't let you do that.” He sighed deeply and leaned forward at his desk, shuffling through his papers. “But here,” he picked one up and handed it to her, “You might as well start on a new case.”

 

Rukia took the paper from him and read over it, “DOA was found stuffed in a gutter and dressed in an Italian suit, no outward signs of trauma aside from a bump on the head suffered from being slammed against the sidewalk, and he was… homeless?” She looked up at him and frowned, “Homeless but dressed in an Italian suit?”

 

Aizen shrugged and shook his head, “Your guess is as good as mine. Talk to Ishida in the M.E.'s office and figure out what killed this guy.” He smiled kindly and winked, “Then find out who did it.”

 

“Give me a week.” Rukia sighed tiredly as she headed towards the door.

 

“How about five days?” Aizen teased, “Twenty bucks?”

 

Kuchiki smiled half-heartedly, “Deal.”

 

Aizen waved at the door, “Now get outta here and don't forget to brief Abarai.”

 

She nodded and closed the door behind her. Aizen watcher her go with interest.

 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

 

The door to the morgue opened with a thunderous bang causing the pensive medical examiner, who had recently been staring into a high-powered microscope, to look up and glare at the two detectives walking loudly inside.

 

“Kuchiki, Abarai,” he said lethally as his gaze returned to the microscope and he adjusted the lenses, “If you don't want scalpels in your eyes I suggest you two quiet down and stop disturbing my environment.”

 

“You're such a tight ass Ishida,” Renji grumbled as he leaned against a metallic counter. “Don't you ever come out of this rat hole?”

 

“No.” Ishida answered smartly as he peered closer at a microbe he was examining. “I have an adjoining room over to the right where I sleep, eat, and take a piss.”

 

There was silence for a moment, Renji turned to glance at Rukia and saw her roll her eyes. “Come on Ishida,” she grunted, “Quit messing around. The Lou told us you had some stuff for us on a murdered homeless guy.”

 

“Ah,” he smirked triumphantly as he scooted back from the microscope and put his wire-rimmed glasses back on, “He's feeding you the little fish now, doesn't want you to get near the big kahuna's.” He shook his head and clicked his tongue mockingly, “Such a tragedy.”

 

“Shut up and give us what you've got.” Renji snapped and began to pace the room.

 

But Uuryu Ishida wasn't finished with Rukia, as a valedictorian graduate from a top medical school in the heart of the city, he was one of wealth and privilege and wouldn't miss a chance to irritate the hard pressed detective in front of him. He was a thin man with shiny black hair and wire-rimmed glasses framing his bony—and some would say handsome—face, but damn it if that face wasn't mocking her now.

 

He grinned slickly and wheeled out to the middle of his room and tapped his foot on the ground, resuming the conversation. “I also heard you met the Ruthless Strawberry.”

 

Rukia frowned at him, “How did you know that? It was only twenty minutes ago!”

 

Ishida shrugged, “Word travels fast around here, so how did you like him?”

 

Rukia crossed her arms and growled, “He was a bastard.”

 

“Well I could figure that much out from the way you traipsed in here,” Ishida remarked cleverly, “But other than that, does he have any leads on your brother?”

 

“Not one!” Rukia burst, throwing her hands up in frustration, “I asked him all the standard questions and he doesn't have a single answer for any of them. He's an incompetent ass and what's more, he's so cocky! I nearly strangled him—well, I did stunt his ability to breathe for a bit—but still, when he told me he'd figure it out without any help from the two eight I just wanted to kill him! I told him as much too!” She huffed and snarled to herself.

 

Ishida shook his head and sighed, “Calm down Kuchiki,” he said coolly, “There's nothing you can do about it so don't worry about it.”

 

Breathing hard, Rukia swore loudly and shook her head, apparently trying to clear it. She took a few more moments to mutter to herself and pant harshly before swiping her hair back and tucking it behind her ear.

 

“Never mind,” she said calmly after taking several deep breaths, “It's out of my hands. Nothing I can do.” She shook her head slightly before looking stoically at Ishida and asking, “What have you got for us?”

 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

 

“I want to stop somewhere before we go see the vic's family.” Rukia told Renji as started the car engine. She sat down and clipped in her seat belt then glanced at her partner to make sure he heard.

 

“Where?” He asked after he was situated.

 

“To The Corner.” She answered simply.

 

Renji turned and gave her a surprised look, “The Corner? Why?”

 

“I need to ask Matsumoto something,” she said ambiguously.

 

Renji sat in the driver's side and frowned at his partner for a few more moments before sighing and nodding reluctantly. “Alright… just make it quick, we don't want her to be made.”

 

“She won't be,” Rukia reassured softly, “It'll be quick.”

 

Renji sighed again and put the gear shift into drive, in one smooth move he peeled out of a paralleled parking space and was rushing down the street.

 

The Corner was a well known avenue for most of the city police department. It was located in the most degenerate part of the city and was home to gangs, prostitutes, and drug dealers. The streets were unclean, the children were unfed, and the people uneducated. It was the worst area of the city and the most frequented by the police. Due to an overactive amount of violence, rape, and murder precincts from all over were assigned different parts of the slums, the two eight just happened to the be the unlucky ones who drew The Corner.

 

The Corner was the most infamous prostitution section of the city, over one thousand women sold their bodies there every year to the lowest of the streets—or the occasional rich businessman just looking for a fuck. The only problem with The Corner was that women came to the two eight each day reporting rape—only it was difficult to prove due to the low or exceptionally high profiles kept by the suspects: they were either the slime on the earth's crust or the rich of suburbs. The slime could never be found and the rich could never be convicted.

 

The two eight was at a loss until Matsumoto Rangiku joined the squad. The woman had breasts bigger than her head and simply oozed confident sex appeal. Instantly, she was given the choice of becoming an undercover agent working on The Corner. It only took a moment for her to come to a decision after the Lou told her that young girls—sometimes children—were being violated by men twice or even thrice their age, being given life threatening diseases, and had nowhere to run or anyone to turn to. The next day she was out there on the first section of the corner, talking, walking, and acting like a prostitute. She collared men when they attempted to force her into sex—and was responsible for over eighty convictions in the two years she was undercover—and also educated other girls on how to protect themselves physically and sexually. Matsumoto Rangiku was a saint to the working girls, and due to her exceptionally low cover she had not been made as a cop yet. The department was exceedingly proud of her and even hailed her as the best thing to ever happen to undercover police work.

 

Rukia made Renji scour the streets of The Corner until they found Matsumoto, they had to drive around for twenty minutes—avoiding the beckoning calls and flashed skin that was thrown their way—before they noticed a strawberry blonde woman who had extremely voluptuous breasts and was wearing a leather outfit that didn't hide much of anything.

 

“There,” Rukia said softly, nodding her head in his direction.

 

Renji gave a low whistle, “Those girls must be freezing, hell it's only forty five degrees outside.”

 

“That's what you call someone who's committed to their work.”

 

Matsumoto noticed the car coming forward—a standard and bland vehicle without all the bells and whistles of the common cop car—and immediately noticed the driver and passenger. With a flick of her hair she winked at the two other women she was standing with and sauntered sexily over to the car.

 

Renji rolled down the driver's side window and gripped his hands on the wheel. Rukia snorted and rolled her eyes, she knew that every man in the precinct wanted to sleep with Matsumoto—and her partner was definitely not an exception.

 

“Hey sweethearts,” Matsumoto giggled—damn, even her giggle sounded sexy—as she leaned against the car and shifted so her large breasts were pushing into the vehicle, the cold didn't help either, it made her nipples poke through the thin leather of her top. She wiggled her eyebrows and licked her lips, “The name's Hollywood.”

 

Renji loosened his grip on the wheel and turned to her, “And why's that?” He asked as casually as he could, Rukia, however, could hear the slight squeak in his voice.

 

“Because you can see the stars when you're in Hollywood.” Matsumoto purred. Rukia saw her partner gulp and begin to sweat; she knew she needed to get this over with fast before the man got a boner.

 

“Matsumoto,” she murmured under her breath, to distract anyone who might be watching, Rukia reached in the glove department and pulled out a city map, she pointed to a spot and frowned. “Can you ask your girls if they saw anything unusual last night on Coleburn Avenue?”

 

“You want to do any more than talkin' hun?” She asked sweetly, twirling a lock of her honey hair around her cheaply manicured finger.

 

Rukia shook her head and pointed emphatically to the section of the map she was holding, “No, I just want to know if they saw anyone murder Byakuya Kuchiki.”

 

“Your brother, hun?” Her eyes flickered over to Renji and he blushed a bit—it looked funny with his tattoos. “I heard about him.”

 

“Yeah,” she muttered, slamming her finger against the map and frowning viciously. “He was killed two nights ago. Just keep your eyes open.”

 

Matsumoto pouted and removed herself from the window of the car, “Well, I guess I can… but it'll cost ya extra.”

 

“Go Renji, fast.” Rukia ordered. Renji's foot slammed on the gas and he screamed out of the street. Behind them, they could hear Matsumoto kicking dirt and yelling curses at them.

 

“Bastards!” She cried, “What! I'm not good enough for you? Fuck you!”

 

Rukia glanced in the side mirror, she saw Matsumoto jogging a bit after the car and flicking them off. Weakly, she smiled and made a mental note to buy her a drink when the woman came out from undercover. She turned to Renji, “She's doing a really great job,” she remarked, “She made the girls behind her think she was asking for a threesome whereas I was asking for directions.” She shook her head in appreciation, “She's good.”

 

“Yeah,” Renji exhaled, he took one hand from the strangled steering wheel and wiped a few beads of sweat from his face, “Yeah… she's really good.”

 

“Oh…” Rukia muttered softly as she fiddled with the pocket of her jean jacket. “So you, ah, got a boner?”

 

“A little one, yeah.”

 

“I figured.”