Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Murder My Heart ❯ The Curse of New Partners ( Chapter 4 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.

 

(A/N: Hello peoples, once again, a new chapter for you! This one is a bit shorter than that last chapter so it's a little reprieve. I'm actually really proud of myself for the length and content of this story, not as much fluff.

I've also wanted to tell you that in later chapters the characters will be a bit OOC, actually, fic Rukia will act more like anime/manga Ichigo whereas fic Ichigo will act more like anime/manga Rukia. I hope everyone is okay with it.

I'm so excited! Anime Club starts soon and guess who is the president??? MOI!!! EGO SUM TRES EXCITED!!! Okay, I'll stop.

 

PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!!! )

 

 

 

 

Chapter 4

 

The telephone on Rukia's beside table rang at six o'clock in the morning. She was jerked violently out of a dream involving her on the roadside, her throat slit and her brother—her dead brother—standing above her and staring at her. His eyes had told her that he was disappointed in her. She had tried to speak with him, tried to tell him that she was doing her best, but he couldn't hear anything she said—her throat was cut and there were no words coming from her mouth, so he just turned his back and walked away. That hurt more than anything else he could have done.

 

Trembling, she noticed the sweat dripping down her face and felt her rumpled hair, it was sticking to the back of her pained neck.

 

“Jesus Christ…” she muttered breathlessly, trying to shake the remnants of the dream from her mind.

 

A sharp, piercing, ring interrupted her thoughts once again. Rukia jumped and swiveled her head until she could see the glossy black casing of her phone, the light was blinking and she squinted at the caller ID. The precinct. Oh, God, were there files she didn't finish? Did she leave something important on her desk that the captain needed?

 

She took the phone, pressed the `talk' button, and pushed it against her ear.

 

“Hello?” She croaked, she paused for a moment and cleared her throat. How much sleep had she gotten? The clock said six so… only about three hours… she needed something to soothe her throat, Christ it was so dry.

 

“Rukia,” it was Renji.

 

“Renji,” she said, why was he calling so early?

 

“Rukia, you need to go to your window.” His voice was terse and hard.

 

“My window…” she muttered, rubbing her raw eyes. “Why?”

 

“Just do it!” He roared. Rukia jumped and immediately threw the covers off of her wobbling legs. Blatantly, she noticed that she was still dressed in the clothes she had been wearing yesterday. Christ, she needed a bath. Grumbling, she stalked to her window and yanked back the screen. The sun was bright in the clear morning haze and she had to blink twice before she could see properly.

 

She dropped the phone.

 

“Jesus…” she whispered and brought a shaking hand to her mouth.

 

There were cop cars, four of them, all of their lights were flashing, illuminating the basking streets with red and white. Yellow tape was plastered along buildings and around fire hydrants and cops were swarming around like bees to a hive.

 

“Rukia… Rukia? Rukia!”

 

The phone at her feet was shouting at her. Shakily, she picked it up and put it back to her ear. “What happened Renji?” She whispered.

 

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. “A body was found in a silver Suzuki at the end of the road, single shot to the back of the head.”

 

“From a .22?” She asked softly.

 

“Yeah.” He sighed.

 

“Who was it Renji?” She asked, her voice wobbling dangerously.

 

“Rukia you gotta know—”

 

“Who was it Renji?” She shouted, feeling the back of her throat close off. She knew who it was already.

 

“Yumichika.”

 

“Damn it.” She sighed, tramping down the wobbling and the burning and the pain. She didn't want to cry… she couldn't… so she wouldn't. She closed her tired eyes for a moment and shook her head, rubbing her temples with her insistent fingers. “Give me half an hour, I'll be down.”

 

“The chief doesn't—” Renji began.

 

“The chief,” Rukia interrupted, “Can kiss my fucking ass.” She snarled into the phone. “Just let me get cleaned up.”

 

He didn't argue. “Alright Rukia.” He said quietly before hanging up. He didn't even bother to say goodbye.

 

Rukia stood one more moment at the window and tried to stop shaking.

 

“Think of it as a present for me.” He had said. A present. His birthday. He drove her home.

 

Rukia grasped her hands around her elbows and closed her eyes. She moved into the bathroom slowly, for fear her legs would give out if she made one false move. Soon enough the shower was on and hot water was rushing out of its head. She removed her clothes patiently, barely feeling the rumpled fabrics fall to the ground. She closed the curtain and went into her shower. She needed to scrub herself clean.

 

She owed him that.

 

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

 

She had asked for thirty minutes but she was down in fifteen. Her hair was still wet and sticking to her skull and she was wearing no visible makeup. Her face was colorless in the budding daylight except for her eyes: inky, violet, and rimmed with purple shadows and red lines.

 

She was dressed in black slacks and a light green long sleeve shirt, over her shoulders was a heavy dark coat, and around her neck was a chain with her policeman's badge. She looked haggard and worn and pained.

 

Renji was standing close to Yumichika's car, he had his hands stuffed into his pockets and was staring at the abandoned vehicle. He felt her approach and spoke softly to her over his shoulder, “One shot, it went through the driver's side window and then to the side of his head.”

 

“Where's the body?” She asked.

 

“Still in the car.” He answered, “They haven't been able to move him yet.”

 

“Let me see him.”

 

Renji gave her a side look, “Rukia… I really don't think you should.”

 

Rukia gave him an empty stare, “Renji… I really don't think it's any of your business.”

 

He nodded, not at all offended by her comment, and moved aside. His partner edged up to the car and looked inside.

 

There he was. Dead. One shot to the side of the head. There were a few strands of blood running from the hole. She could see how far the bullet went in… it stopped at the other side of his brain, near his skull. Bits of gray matter were leaking from the bullet hole. It only took a moment before Rukia realized it was his brain. She felt her stomach churn instantaneously.

 

Then she looked at his face, the usually vibrant, cheeky, and a rosy shade of pink was now pale, dead, and hollow. His skin was a sallow color and his mouth was open slightly with little dabs of spittle rolling down his jaw. His eyes were lifeless and staring into vacant space. Rukia took one more look at him, her mind making silent comparisons to the man who had dropped her off last night and the corpse now before her. Slowly, she bowed her head and moved back to Renji.

 

He was standing, waiting for her; she stepped beside him and stuffed her hands into her pockets. “It was his birthday, you know.” She said softly, “He told me last night. He drove me home.”

 

Renji remained silent and the two watched as Yumichika was removed from the car, placed inside of a body bag, and was driven away in a silent ambulance. Neither of them paid any attention to the sun as it rose or the chilly morning air as it was hurried away from the beaming rays.

 

“Rukia…” he muttered, looking down at his feet as they kicked at a few pebbles away, “I'm going to say this even though you already know what I'm going to tell you.”

 

Rukia blinked her eyes and felt a painful burning lodged behind them. “Alright.” She whispered hoarsely.

 

He spoke softly, “You know what people in the precinct are saying.”

 

She nodded. He continued, “They're saying that you're jinxed.”

 

She was deadly serious, “Is that what you think, Renji?”

 

He was silent for a moment, staring out into the streets before shifting and looking down at her. His eyes were quizzical and confused, but the confusion was not directed at her, instead it an inner enigma… as if he was asking himself the same question.

 

“I… I don't know… he murmured softly, “I don't know what I think.”

 

Rukia nodded and motioned to a car resting next to the sidewalk; it was the car they always used for work. He must have gone to the precinct early to get it. She began to walk towards it when she glanced back at Renji and said, “Do you want to drive or should I?”

 

Renji shook his head and strode with Rukia towards the vehicle.

 

He drove.

 

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

 

“Kurosaki,” Kenpachi yelled from the inside of his office, the detective looked up from his files and turned his head towards the closed door. Ichigo rolled his eyes; his boss was probably the loudest lieutenant in the entire city—he would be heard even if he was shouting in a sound-proof room. “Get in here!” The man roared.

 

Muttering nonsensically, Ichigo heaved himself from his desk and made his way into his chief's office. He closed the door behind him and waited for the tirade to begin. “Yeah?” He asked blandly, already expecting to get his ass chewed out about being an exceedingly incompetent detective.

 

“Another murder,” Kenpachi growled as he threw a folder down on the top of his desk.

 

Ichigo immediately came forward and grabbed the file. He opened it and immediately saw the brightly smiling face of Yumichika Ayasegawa. He was grinning almost flirtatiously at the camera. Slightly creeped out by the head-shot Ichigo flipped to the next page and was immediately accosted with images of the same man, only his face was pale, his mouth was open, and his eyes were vacant.

 

“Shit,” Ichigo murmured as he noticed a single bullet hole, splattered brains, and dried blood. He wrinkled his nose and read the report. “Detective from the two eight, single bullet, .22, and he was killed on his birthday.” He shook his head and looked up at his boss. “It says here that he was about to transfer to the three one.”

 

“You know Ikkaku Madarame?” Kenpachi asked.

“Yeah, I know him,” Ichigo answered, “What about him?”

 

“Well, Yumichika was transferring to be over here with him, apparently they're best friends or something.” Kenpachi rolled his eyes and continued, “But there's something else.”

 

“What?” Ichigo asked, looking down at the papers and reading quietly.

 

Kenpachi paused before he smirked and answered, “He was driving your new partner home right before he got shot.”

 

Ichigo's head jerked up. “Wait… my what?”

 

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

 

Rukia and Renji made it to the precinct in silence.

 

When they entered the room, all the people who had arrived early stopped their conversations, turned, stared at Rukia, and began whispering at full force.

 

“Yumichika drove her home last night…”

 

“Do you think she wanted him alone…?”

 

“What about the other two…?”

 

“She hated her brother…”

 

“Didn't Matsumoto trust her…?”

 

“Don't listen to them,” Renji told her, his voice was quiet but loud enough to grab her attention, she was glad for that. “Don't listen to any of them. I'll deal with them later.”

 

Rukia smirked, “Sticks and stones, Renji… sticks and stones. It doesn't bother me.”

 

Oh but it did. It did bother her. She just wouldn't let anyone know it.

 

Her partner sighed, “I wish I had your determination.” He glanced around the room and glared at whoever was brave enough to withhold his evil stare. “I would have to shut up each one of them up personally.”

 

She shook her head, “Don't worry about it,” she murmured smartly, sitting down at her desk, “I don't.”

 

“Yeah,” he scoffed, “You don't worry about yourself at all, but I do.”

 

Rukia didn't reply and scooted her chair in. She needed to focus on something… paperwork would be nice; there was always paperwork that needed to be done.

 

She was only a half an hour into it when she heard the door to the two eight bang open with a force equivalent to a hurricane. She didn't even look up from her paperwork. In all honesty she thought it was simply another angry constituent coming to complain about an unfair traffic ticket. She just kept her head down and continued to watch her desk.

 

The footfalls on the oak floors were heavy and demanding. Rukia heard the chief's door open with a soft click.

 

The footsteps stopped in front of her desk.

 

That was when Rukia looked up…

 

…Only to find herself face to face with a furiously angry, orange-haired, detective. He came closer to her and slammed his fist on her desk. Rukia didn't even jump as her pens scattered onto the floor and her cup of cooled coffee spilled across the top. The entirety of the precinct was staring in their direction now, phones went unanswered, paperwork fluttered forgotten to the floor, and cups of stale coffee were being overfilled to the extent that it overflowed onto the bearers hands.

 

Rukia finished looking around the precinct and then looked back up at the intrusive Detective Kurosaki. He was seething, his teeth were bared, his hair was wild-looking and his eyes—Christ, she had never seen anyone look that angry before.

 

“I think,” he breathed hotly, “I hate you.”

 

Renji stood from his chair and placed his arms threateningly on the sides of his desk, his eyes boring into the angered detective's frame.

 

Rukia blinked calmly at him, “Well that's funny,” she replied, “Because I know I hate you.”

 

“Was it your idea?” He growled, clenching his fist on her desk. “I wasn't good enough to take the case so you curl up to your supervisor and ask him to put you on too?”

 

Rukia felt her temper begin to rise. “What are you talking about?” She asked, trying to remain calm.

 

“You know damn well what I'm talking about!” He cried, curling his fingers around the edges of her desk.

 

“Obviously I don't or else I wouldn't be asking!” She answered, her voice rising and her eyebrows forming a jagged line. She pushed her desk chair out and pressed her palms down, standing up and facing him, her nose practically touching his.

 

“Don't act stupid,” he spat disgustedly, “It doesn't suit you.” He glared at her even harder. “You asked to be assigned to this case, didn't you?”

 

“I didn't ask to be assigned to any case!” Rukia shouted, “What the hell did you drink in your coffee this morning?”

 

“You little—”

 

“Kurosaki! Kuchiki! Civility… please.”

 

Both of the detectives, still snarling, turned. Lieutenant Aizen was standing not three feet from their raging bodies. He was smiling easily, his black glasses dropped to the end of his nose, and his hands stuffed casually in his pockets. Rukia was seething, Ichigo was growling, and Lieutenant Aizen was staring coolly at them both.

 

“I would like you both in my office,” he asked pleasantly before turning his back on them. Ichigo shot Rukia a dirty look, which she returned with pleasure. “Now please.” Aizen called from his door.

 

“Bitch.” Ichigo snarled.

 

“Bastard.” She shot back.

 

“Shut up,” Renji added, glaring from one person to the next. “Just get in there.”

 

“You be quiet,” Rukia snapped rudely. She kicked her chair behind her and threw Ichigo a rancid look. Huffing, she clomped to the chiefs office and threw open the door, only to close it before Ichigo could enter himself. She heard him curse lightly and reveled in it; behind her, he yanked the door back open and entered.

 

Aizen was seated behind his desk, looking—as always—calm, cool, and collected. He folded his hands before him and placed them on top of three files, each of them evenly spread in a clean, geometric, pattern. He stared serenely at them as Rukia stood to the far right of his office and Ichigo stood to the far left.

 

Aizen looked at Detective Kurosaki first, “Welcome, Kurosaki, how are you this morning?”

 

“I'm fine,” he answered shortly, glaring at the Lieutenant, “Mind telling me why I'm being stuck with her?”

 

Rukia shot a glare at Kurosaki then another one at her boss, “Mind telling me what the hell he's talking about?”

 

Aizen smiled softly, “Mind watching your language?”

 

“Forgive me for being so uncouth,” Rukia mocked darkly, “Mind telling me what the fuck he's talking about?”

 

“A little better.” Aizen admitted, he sighed and looked Rukia directly in the eye. “You're being reassigned.”

 

Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened, “What?”

 

Beside her, Ichigo blanched, “Reassigned? I'm not taking her.”

 

She glowered at Ichigo and frowned at her lieutenant, “I'm not taking him.”

 

Aizen held up his hands and silenced them both. “You're both taking each other.” Rukia began to protest when Aizen gave her a stern look. “Kuchiki, listen… you've got the entire precinct spooked. Everyone thinks you're jinxed—”

 

“Because my brother, my friend, and my coworker, all of whom I've had contact with, were killed?” She growled and looked away, determined not to let either of them see her sour expression. “Yeah, I know.”

 

Aizen gave her a sympathetic smile, “So you can understand my position.” He drew a breath and continued, “I also know that you've been investigating behind my back.”

 

“Not true,” Rukia pointed out, “I've been investigating Matsumoto's murder, not my brothers'.”

 

“He didn't say anything about your brother,” Ichigo pointed out cattily, “He just said you were investigating.”

 

“I've got a novel idea,” Rukia told him saucily, “Why don't you shut up?”

 

“So intelligent,” Ichigo answered, turning to Aizen, “You've got a keeper here.”

 

Rukia reared on him, advancing threateningly, “Why don't you take your foot and shove it so far up your—”

 

“Detective!”

 

Aizen was standing now, his hands braced threateningly on his desk. He was staring at Rukia with a softly dangerous glare. Aizen couldn't look murderous if he tried, he was too nice to look so mean. `Softly dangerous' was probably the most mean he could muster. Still, it had the desired effect, Rukia felt like a child being chastised by her father. She lowered her eyes softly and sighed, finally shutting her mouth. She could feel Ichigo smirking beside her. Christ, she wanted nothing more than to punch him.

 

“Now,” the lieutenant continued sternly, “I want you to work with Kurosaki on this case, do you understand me Kuchiki? You wanted to work on this case and I'm letting you, but you have to do it with Detective Kurosaki. You need to get away from the precinct for a while and this way you can work on the case, let people see that you're not a curse, and… well, there's always a chance to meet new people.”

 

Rukia moaned and shook her head, “You can't be serious.”

 

“Can't I?” Aizen asked, his voice cutting through her mind.

 

“Lieutenant,” she pleaded, “How am I supposed to work with him?” She pointed to Ichigo, “I mean, come on, I choked him the second time I saw him!”

 

Aizen groaned, “You just have to learn how to work with him without killing him, I don't think that's too much to ask.”

 

“What about Renji?” Rukia demanded, “What will he do?”

 

“He'll be working with a new recruit,” her boss answered immediately, “Her name is Momo Hinamori and she's just been assigned to the two eight.”

 

“So I'm being replaced?” Rukia burst, throwing her hands up in the air. “Will I have to clear out my desk, will my locker be reassigned, and will I ever get my old partner back?”

 

Aizen was staring at her impatiently now, “No. No. Yes.” He sighed and gave her an annoyed look, “Are you finished?”

 

“No!” She cried.

 

“Yes, you are,” Aizen said, terminating anything else she had to say. He picked up the files and held them out to her. “Here. A complete report of all three murders, one for you and one for Detective Kurosaki.”

 

Rukia took them grumpily and glared at her boss. “And my desk?”

 

“Take what you need, leave what you don't.” he said comfortingly, “Momo won't take your desk, I promise you.”

 

“And where do we go from here?” Rukia asked tartly. “Where do we work on the case?”

 

“Try the three one,” Aizen said tiredly. “You can work there.”

 

“She can't work at the three one!” Ichigo cried, “What's a detective from the two eight got to do with the three one?”

 

Rukia snarled at him, “Try the entire case, you stupid ass.”

 

“I'm not taking her to the three one,” Detective Kurosaki said stubbornly, crossing his arms across his chest.

 

“Then work at Detective Kuchiki's apartment,” Aizen suggested, “It's right on the boarder of the three one and the two eight.”

 

Ichigo snorted, “I'd rather eat rat poisoning.”

 

Rukia raised an eyebrow, “I can arrange that if you'd like.”

 

“I'd stuff it down your throat first,” Ichigo snarled.

 

“Stop!” Aizen shouted. He sounded like a crazed babysitter. “You two are acting like children. Go to a park, work at the zoo, figure it out in a car… I don't care! Just stop fighting, start working together, and get this case solved!”

 

“Why don't we have more people working on this case?” Rukia asked defiantly, indicating behind her to the entirety of the two eight. “We have three murdered cops on our hands! As far as I'm concerned we should have the entire city out looking for this guy.”

 

Aizen was nearing the end of his patience, Rukia could tell, but it still didn't stop her from demanding that he answer her question, “Well?” She intoned.

 

Aizen gritted his teeth, “Three reasons: One, budget cuts. Two, we want to keep this matter a bit more private in hopes that we can actually catch the killer. And three…” he smirked at them, “We all have absolute confidence that you two can figure it out.”

 

Rukia had never felt like hitting her boss before. Ah well, today was a new day and there were new things to discover… she wondered if his glasses would break if she went for the nose…

 

Aizen smiled at the two of them, “Just get it solved.” He nodded, “You're dismissed.”

 

The two detectives stopped looking at the lieutenant and then glared at each other. Amber met violet and fire erupted instantly. It was a test for dominance, neither one of them wanted to give in to the other and neither one of them would back down. Without saying another word Rukia turned on her heel and stomped out of her boss's office. Ichigo rolled his eyes and nodded in recognition at the lieutenant before exiting after his new partner.

 

He followed her—at a safe distance—to her desk. Detective Abarai watched Rukia as she angrily grabbed papers from her drawers, yanked her coat away, and began to tramp towards the precinct door, not even saying goodbye or acknowledging his all-too-obvious presence.

 

Ichigo's eyes followed her angry beeline for the door and wondered what the next couple of weeks—months?—were going to be like. He could just see them fighting over every single decision, taking swings at one another when their guards were down, and even snarling death threats over lukewarm coffee. Ichigo lingered behind a bit and wondered if he should just pull out his gun and shoot himself now.

 

His sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His groan of distress must have keyed Detective Abarai in because the man looked up and glared at him disdainfully. Damn those tattoos were creepy, and that hair… Jesus, he looked like a carnie.

 

Renji glanced up at Detective Kurosaki and snickered, “She's gonna end up killing you.” He muttered, “You'll have so much fun together.”

 

“Oh, thanks for that,” Ichigo clipped, staring at the door and wondering how long he had to live, “Any advice?”

 

Renji snorted then shook his head and bit his bottom lip, he sighed and gave Ichigo a hard look. “She doesn't cry.” He told him softly.

 

Ichigo frowned and blinked at him as Renji continued, “She doesn't smile either.” The man glanced up and stared directly at Ichigo, “You make her cry… I'll kill you.” Ichigo had to force himself not to gulp.

 

Renji's hard glare disappeared and he shrugged, “But if you make her smile… then you're my new best friend.” He smiled ruefully. “Got it?”

 

“Is this some kind of test?” Ichigo asked bluntly. “Do you have an office pool going or something?”

 

Detective Abarai shook his head, “No test, no pool, just… just a warning.”

 

The two stared at each other for a few more moments before Ichigo nodded curtly and left the precinct.