Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Murder My Heart ❯ Last Names First ( Chapter 8 )

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

 

(A/N: Hey guys, another chapter to post. Just wanted to let you know that I'm going to try and work on this one and Casual Friends—at the same time—so the chapters might be coming out with a bit more irregularity in their time frames. But whatever, I'll write when I can, who cares about schoolwork? [Ah, me?] Oh well, can't quash a passion with endless amounts of term papers.

Please, ENJOY and REVIEW!)

 

(Also, pardon the length of the chapter [22 pages!], but at least you do get some, er, action in this one. Enjoy!)

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 8

 

“It's fucking cold.” Ichigo said as he puffed hot air into his hands and jiggled his feet around, trying to block some of the early morning air from seeping into his pants and hitting his skin.

 

“Stop waving the air towards me,” she snapped at him, stuffing her own hands into her pockets. Sure she was smart enough to wear a heavier coat and even a scarf. He was only wearing a windbreaker.

 

“But I'm cold.” He whined, staring hungrily at her scarf.

 

“You summer babies,” she scoffed, “Can't stand a bit of cold.”

 

“I need coffee then,” he reasoned persistently, “I need some damn coffee to warm me up. I'll take tea even, or cocoa! Fuck… I something warm.”

 

Rukia sighed exasperatedly; she removed her ungloved hands from her pockets and reached up to unravel the scarf from her neck. “Here,” she thrust it over to him, “Take it.”

 

Ichigo took a closer look at the scarf for a moment before snorting and turning his head away, “I'm not taking that thing.”

 

She turned to him and frowned, “Why not?”

 

He gave her a wide-eyed look of amazement, “It's got rabbits on it Rukia, rabbits.”

 

“Your point?” She demanded, holding the scarf out a bit more.

 

“It's bordering on gay,” he told her.

 

“Either you take the scarf or you freeze to death.” She told him plainly, “And if you freeze to death I will leave you here in this park, to be eaten by tiny dogs accidentally let loose by their rich owners.” She narrowed her eyes and offered her the scarf once more, “Now, do you want it or not?”

 

Ichigo studied the scarf for one more minute before taking it and wrapping it around his neck. He mumbled the entire time he was going round and round his sinewy column. “You know, if I did pass out from the cold you could always do what they did in The Saint.”

 

Rukia turned to him, “The what?”

 

He shrugged, feeling the warmth of her skin seep into his neck and the scent of her hair travel up to his raw nose, “You know, the movie, The Saint.”

 

She shook her head, “I've never seen it.”

 

His eyes widened in fake horror, his hands stuffed mercilessly into his pockets, “You've never seen The Saint?”

 

She shook her head, “I don't watch TV all that much,” she looked at him with curiosity, “What do they do? You know, in that movie.”

 

Ichigo smirked and began to dance around slightly, trying to keep the rest of the cold away from him, “Well,” he began, “Val Kilmer has to get away from some evil Russians so at one point he has to dive into an icy river and stay underwater for a while so they couldn't spot him.”

 

She blinked at him, “Okay…”

 

Ichigo sidled closer to her and ended up rubbing his shoulder against hers. She shied away but he followed her jokingly. “Well anyway, his significant other, played by Elisabeth Shue, sees how cold he is and ends up stripping him naked—”

 

Rukia's eyes widened and she jumped away from Ichigo. He laughed and pursued her on the path. “And then she strips naked, lies down right on top of him, and her body heat warms him up.”

 

“Absolutely not!” Rukia huffed, planting her feet in the ground and causing Ichigo to swerve in order to get out of her way. “Who'd want to see you naked?”

 

Ichigo chuckled darkly, “More women than you'd like to know.” He cocked his head and shrugged, “And some men too.”

 

Rukia gave him a dark look and pointed to a spot on her mouth, indicating he had something on his, “You know you have a bit of ego right here.” She tapped the spot on her own face, “Actually, it's coming out in a stream… get rid of it.”

 

“Touchy, touchy, touchy,” Ichigo muttered, “Maybe you're just grumpy because you're hungry.” He grinned and knocked his elbow against hers. “I'll get you breakfast after this.”

 

“I don't eat much nowadays.” Rukia admitted, sighing softly. “I'm not very hungry.”

 

“Then I'll get you coffee after we talk with Chad,” he took his hands from his pockets and blew in them lightly. “Christ, where is this guy?”

 

Rukia gave him a dubious look, “Are you sure he's reliable?”

 

“Yeah,” Ichigo said, “I've known him since high school. We went to the Academy together and stayed partners for a while before he went to narcotics and I became a detective.”

 

“Does he like being in narcotics?” Rukia asked.

 

“I guess,” he shrugged, “But yeah… I guess he likes it.”

 

She gave him a sidelong glance. “He likes you, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Ichigo replied, “Of course he does, we've been friends since we were fifteen.”

 

“Then where the fuck is he?” She hissed vehemently.

 

Gravel crunched near them and their heads whipped in the direction of the noise. Rukia's eyes widened as she stared at the giant coming towards him. He was easily twice her size, his body was lean but muscular and sinew was bulging from his biceps. His hands were stuffed inside of his pockets but she could see how humongous they were. His skin was a lovely shade of brown but not completely black, he looked Mexican but exotic, like he was a stranger to his own land. His head was bent down slightly, wavy hair hiding his uninterested-looking eyes and the bridge of his large nose. His head was also covered by a loose gray jacket, the hood pulled up to give him more of a conspicuous image. To Rukia he looked like a towering, wavy-haired, giant, thug.

 

“Ichigo,” even his voice was huge—a deep, round, resonating, baritone that shook through her completely, even though he wasn't talking to her. His eyes shifted from her to her partner and he blinked. There was a long and drawn out silence before he added, “You're wearing a bunny scarf.”

 

Ichigo coughed slightly before he loosened the thing around his neck and muttered, “Yeah, I was cold… I know it's rather stupid.”

 

“Gay is more like it,” the man rumbled.

 

“Hey!” Rukia piped up in defense, not the type of person to have a giant oaf insult one of her scarves, “It's mine and I happen to like it.”

 

The giant shrugged and said, “If you say so.”

 

“I do say so,” she clipped acidly.

 

He shrugged again and looked back at her, “I guess you're Ichigo's new partner.”

 

“Yeah,” he said, coming forward and grasping the giant's forearms in a strange handshake, “Her name is Rukia Kuchiki. I was assigned to work with her for this case.”

 

Rukia scoffed, “More like I was assigned to work with you.”

 

“Whatever way you want to put it,” he said, shooting her a reproachful glare, “But before we get started, Rukia this is Chad, or Sado if you want his real name, Chad, this is Rukia.”

 

“Good,” she gave Ichigo a glare, “Now we have some questions.”

 

A small sigh escaped his mouth and puffed out into white clouds, “We're working together and we wanted to know something. I know you don't have much time so we'll try to be brief.”

 

Chad—or was it Sado?—nodded, “Okay, shoot.”

 

Rukia cleared her throat. “Have you, or anyone you know, sold cocaine to someone who has it out for cops?” She asked pertinently as she dug into her pocket and pulled out a tiny notebook and a pen. She flipped the book open, tapped on the pen, and stared hard at Chad. “Don't leave anything out, it could all be relevant.”

 

Chad looked from Rukia to Ichigo with patient ease, his hair was covering one of his eyes and he was blinking like a confused animal. His gaze finally ended on Ichigo, “Is she for real?”

 

Rukia was about to protest when Ichigo nodded and said, “Unfortunately,” in a dejectedly weary voice.

 

Her fist was in his stomach before he could blink. He heaved uncomfortably and wheezed as his head fell between his knees.

 

Chad raised an eyebrow at her and asked in that dull voice of his, “You do that often?”

 

She shrugged, “Actually this is only the third time… I think.” She said, adjusting her shoulders and returning her attentions to the notebook, “Now, continuing, and please, no bullshit. It's too fucking early in the morning.”

 

Chad took one more look at Ichigo's wheezing form before nodding his head and answering, “There's this guy I know, always uptight about authority figures, he buys coke all the time from another guy I know.” Rukia scribbled enthusiastically as he continued, “Once, he came to me, already high, and was boasting about how he popped a cop clean in the back of the head.”

 

Rukia raised an eyebrow and poised her pen above the page, “His name?”

 

“Gin Ichimaru,” he answered as he watched Ichigo try to straighten himself, “You should find him at Takameshi Street in the slums, he lives in Eishi Apartments, room number eight.”

 

Rukia wrote all of it down, “Anything else we should know?” She asked him.

 

Chad nodded, “The guys got about five guns.”

 

Rukia stopped writing and blinked at him, “Were you going to volunteer this information even if I didn't ask?”

 

He shrugged, “Not if you didn't ask.”

 

She nodded and sighed, “I see… well,” she turned to Ichigo and continued to watch him struggle. She stuffed her notebook inside of her pockets, her hands following close suit as she tried to warm them. “Thank you very much Chad… or Sado, whichever you prefer.”

 

“Ichigo calls me Chad,” he said in a deep voice, drawing the fiery-haired detective's attention. Ichigo raised his head and continued to rub his stomach. Chad chuckled softly, “Does she always hit that hard?”

 

Ichigo coughed lightly before shaking his head, “No, it's still early so she's just warming up.”

 

Rukia snorted at him, “You know, I enjoy hitting you,” she raised her hand and balled it into a fist, Ichigo instantly recoiled, “It releases pent up anger.”

 

“Well keep your anger to yourself,” he spat, turning to Chad and grasping his muscular arm once again. “You take care of yourself, okay?”

 

The burly undercover cop nodded brusquely and nodded, “Take care yourself,” he turned to go and then swiveled back, “And take off that ridiculous scarf.”

 

“Will do, Chad… will do.” Ichigo grinned as he watched the giant of a man vanish into the early morning light. For a moment, Rukia was baffled at how such a large person could appear and disappear with the elegance of a hummingbird.

 

Ichigo grinned as he left and turned his attention back to his partner. She was staring off, watching as Chad slipped away into the mist.

 

For just a moment, he allowed himself to stare at her in the mornings' dewy gleam. A few droplets of water clung to her hair and her delicate breath puffed out like smoke from a fire lit deep within her belly. She looked beautiful, her purple-grey eyes clouded and heavy with tired determination but alive with expectation and hopes.

 

Ichigo felt his tight eyebrows slacken slightly before he walked over to his partner; he patted her softly on the back and had the delight to see her eyes shift up to his. They swept his face before glancing down at the scarf he was wearing. Her lips quirked into a smirk and he shrugged, “Let's go get something to eat before we go see this, Gin Ichimaru guy.”

 

Rukia shook her head, “No, I want to see him first.”

 

“Too bad,” he said, he wrapped his fist around her bulky forearm, he tugged quickly and jerked her forward, “Because I'm hungry and you also need to eat.”

 

“I do not.” She muttered, abjectly disgruntled at being ordered around, and by Kurosaki no less.

 

Ichigo gave her a slanting look, taking in her slightly hollowed cheekbones, the circles under her eyes, and her sharp chin, he wondered if she even ate more than one meal a day. He looked away and shook his head, his footsteps coming a bit faster and his tugging on her arms a bit more insistent. “I don't care if you want to eat or not, you and I are going to have breakfast.”

 

“Bastard.” She muttered.

 

“Bitch.” He replied.

 

Ignoring each others furious auras Ichigo tugged Rukia while Rukia tried to slow him down. After a few moments of struggling, Rukia gave in and finally decided that eggs and toast sounded good… but only if Ichigo was buying.

 

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

 

Thirty minutes later, Rukia was sitting at a table in a homey diner, a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast before her. In all truth, the smell was scrumptious and she could even see the waves of steam wafting from the deliciously cooked food. She raised her head and looked at Ichigo, trying to control the saliva building up in her mouth. He was already digging into his plate, his utensils working with furious speed. Rukia's eye trailed down to the wonderful food and gulped. He did buy it… he did want her to eat it… it looked so good…

 

Ichigo paused in his voracious consummation and frowned at her, “Wha arenn yoo eathing?” He asked with his mouth full.

 

Rukia would have laughed at him if she didn't hate smiling so much.

 

It took him a moment to finally swallow, but when he did he reached over to her plate and pushed it towards her. “What I meant to say was, why aren't you eating?”

 

Rukia snorted at him and shook her head, “I told you I'm not all that hungry.”

 

Ichigo took another bite of his toast, “So your eyes are just eating it for you?” He asked sarcastically. She sneered at him but he brushed it aside, “Come on Rukia, I know you're hungry, just eat it.”

 

She narrowed her eyes but picked up her utensils anyway. Her partner smirked at her actions and resumed devouring the food on his plate. The first bite was heavenly, the eggs slipped down her throat like butter and the taste reminded her of how much she missed food. Actual food… not just crackers whenever she thought about eating or an apple when she felt her energy weakening… and coffee, she couldn't forget the coffee. Without coffee… well, there was no life.

 

Before long the entirety of her plate was decimated, all of the food was gone and Rukia was gulping down her coffee as if it were oxygen.

 

She placed her cup down on the table and sighed in relief. Christ, how long had it been since her stomach had been this satiated?

 

“See,” Ichigo's voice chided her back to reality; she looked up and saw him grinning tauntingly at her, “I knew you were hungry.”

 

“I wasn't hungry,” she told him, trying to sound bitter but knowing she didn't. “I was just in the mood to eat.”

 

“Ah,” he nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “Of course.”

 

“It's true.” She told him, motioning for another cup of coffee. The waitress brought her the pot and filled her mug, Rukia was tempted to tell her to leave the entire thing but the plump old woman was gone before she could ask.

 

Ichigo's eyes followed her as she sipped her coffee again. This time she savored the strong taste and sighed as it slipped down her throat. Her face, for only a moment, slipped from its mask of hardness and settled into serene peace. It was the one she had worn when he saw her sleep. Her face had been devoid of the pain and the pressure that he usually saw.

 

I should buy her coffee more often, he thought casually.

 

“So I have a question,” she said coolly, reaching across the table and picking up a spare piece of toast from his plate, “When did we start on the whole first name basis thing?”

 

Ichigo shrugged and took the toast back from her, she had made one bite mark into the stiff piece of bread but Ichigo ate it anyway. It was slightly exhilarating to know he was eating something that Rukia's lips had been on, but he suppressed the feeling with a swallow. He shouldn't have been thinking things like that anyway. “I guess… it was when you were in you mini-meltdown.” His eyes softened as he said, “You called me Ichigo, so… I guess it was then.”

 

“Oh…” she said, her voice descending in decibels. She grabbed the toast back from him and ripped the rest of the piece in half. She handed one to him and kept one for herself. “Well, don't you think we should call each other by last name still?”

 

“Why?” He asked, stuffing the rest into her mouth.

 

“We need proper distance,” she said, nibbling on the toast, “The whole first name basis stuff doesn't seem to be working.”

 

Ichigo's eyebrows furrowed, “Why not?”

 

She shrugged and sipped on her coffee, “Well, don't you want boundaries?”

 

He felt his fist clench on his thigh, thankfully hidden under the grubby table. However, unbeknownst to Rukia, his temper was also starting to boil. “What makes you think I want boundaries?” He asked quietly.

 

She blinked at him softly and shifted back in her seat. If Ichigo didn't know any better, he could swear he felt some sort of fear coming from her… was it fear, or was he just imagining it? It was a spark of something, he knew that, whether it was fear or insecurity or even anxiety he didn't know. He just knew it was… something…

 

Ichigo dug into his pocket and pulled out a bill, Rukia's eyes followed his hand as he slapped it down on the table and motioned towards the door, “Let's go.” His voice was terse and his fists were flexing as if irritated by something. “We want to get the drug dealers before they're all up and doing their usual business.”

 

Rukia frowned but nodded as she looked at her wristwatch; according to the silver hands on the face it was only six thirty in the morning. Sighing at her painfully obvious lack of sleep she glanced up and noticed that the door was already swinging with Ichigo's departure. Rukia cursed and quickly followed after him, stinging her tender knees in the process. She came out of the diner, hobbling slightly but determined not to let any of her aches show.

 

Ichigo was already in the car by the time she was even able to open the door. She yanked the thing open and slid into the seat beside him, huffing in flustered annoyance.

 

She didn't even bother to ask him what was wrong, Jesus knew he always had something wrong with him… he was always moody and angry and frowning and… and…

 

He turned on the car and began to drive to the place Chad had told them about.

 

“Whatever,” she muttered softly, buckling her seat belt before Ichigo wrapped the car around a pole.

 

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

 

“Make sure you park a bit away from the slums,” Rukia told him as they neared the decrepit neighborhood, “There's a ninety three percent chance that someone will boost your tires if you leave it near here.”

 

“I know,” Ichigo answered tersely, pulling into a space about three blocks away from where the slums began, “I've been doing this almost as long as you have.”

 

“I just wanted to make sure,” she replied, her temper rising. She unbuckled her seatbelt and pushed the door open, mentally preparing herself for the trip she was about to take. She hadn't been to the slums since her fateful conversation with Matsumoto, and her skin still crawled at the mere mention of The Corner. For a fleeting moment, her mind wandered back to the night she had learned about Matsumoto's death. She had gone to see Susame and learned about the package the undercover cop had been carrying to her. That package that ended up putting a bullet in her skull.

 

Rukia inadvertently shuddered, trying to block out the memories of that day—not to mention being subsequently blamed for the woman's death. She pushed the thoughts aside, desperately trying to forget the past. She gave a sidelong glance at Ichigo and wondered if he saw how shaken she was—not that she would ever admit she was shaken, to him or to herself, but it would help if he didn't mention it.

 

“We're looking for Takameshi Street?” She clarified, clearing her throat and trying to sound like she meant business. “Eishi Apartments.” Just to be sure she pulled out her notebook and checked the names written in her perfect cursive. She nodded to herself and put it back. She could do this.

 

Ichigo set a brisk pace and Rukia almost had to jog to keep up with his powerful strides, but no matter how quickly he walked she did have to admit that he got them into the very heart of the slums in only a matter of minutes.

 

Rukia checked her sidearm unconsciously; she needed to make sure that it was ready for use in case she needed it. Her eyes traveled down as she and Ichigo passed by a homeless man wearing filthy clothes and a murderous expression. With a small swallow, Rukia loosened the hold on the holster just a tad.

 

“Stand close,” Ichigo muttered, shifting a little closer to her in the process as they continued walking.

 

She wasn't afraid though. She knew she wasn't. She hadn't been afraid of these people in a very long time. Growing up as an orphan in the foster system changed all of that. Hell, she would have loved to feel fear every now and again, but to her it was considered a luxury. Just like all the other emotions normal people were supposed to have.

 

Most of the street signs were broken or missing so Ichigo and Rukia had to do their best to find where they were going without general direction—not to mention zero help from any of the natives. None of them spoke as the two cleanest members of the streets walked past; conversations were stopped and horrendous stares were given.

 

Finally, after what seemed like hours of fruitless wandering, Rukia and Ichigo finally managed to find Takameshi Street and Eishi Apartments. Rukia stood before the doors for a moment while Ichigo circled the building, checking to see if they needed to be wary of anything in particular; Rukia had to admit, though, that the only thing she probably needed to look out for was this decrepit building. It looked as if it had been subjected to three earthquakes, a flood or two, and numerous fires, all of which had busted every window, destroyed every fire escape, and no doubt killed each set of stairs. If she and Ichigo had anything to be worried about, it was not the murderers who most likely lived inside of this building, but rather getting an infection from a jagged and unexpected piece of glass, or inhaling dangerous fumes, or even falling down two stories due to the termite ridden floors.

 

Ichigo came back from around the store, “Everything is fine,” he said and she nodded. Together, with Rukia in the lead, they entered the crumbling building, watching their steps as they went along.

 

Rats scurried out of their way and bats screeched in the molding rafters. Rukia heard the volume of the noise and felt a shiver rise up her spine. It sounded like nails on a chalk board.

 

“Here it is,” Ichigo whispered as they stopped in front of door number eight. Rukia glanced up and realized he was right, sheepishly, she noticed she had been looking at the ground and not at the numerical gates. She slipped her hand inside of her coat and pulled on the butt of her gun, propping it in front of her face. Ichigo reached his hand inside of his jacket and pulled out his gun as well. Rukia mimicked his movements and nodded to him, gently, he rapped on the door.

 

There was no movement inside the apartment so Ichigo knocked again, louder this time. Both of them heard a grumble inside of the room and a man calling.

 

Rukia couldn't tell what he was saying so she took matters into her own hands, “Mr. Ichimaru? This is the police. Open the door.”

 

Another grumble, this time it sounded like, “Whaaaat?”

 

“The police, Mr. Ichimaru,” Ichigo called clearly, “We need to talk to you.”

 

A stumbling sound came from inside, Ichigo and Rukia tensed as the door swung open and a man appeared at the doorway. The moment Rukia saw him she felt like ice had just been poured into her veins.

 

Rukia had seen her share of dazed and crazed men before, but the sight of this man chilled her bones until she felt frozen in place. His hair was an astonishing shade of ash-grey—it looked lifeless and dull—his skin was a translucent shade of white, and his eyes were slanted into a queer stare. But his mouth… his mouth was what scared her the most. It curled up and up into a thin line ending only when it was horizontal to his ears.

 

A shiver ran through her frame as the man—Gin Ichimaru if they were correct—shifted his eyes from one detective to the next and grinned when his gaze landed on Rukia. He looked like a ferociously wicked animal, one that didn't have any qualms about eating a mother in front of a cub. His image was simply frightening.

 

Rukia scooted a bit closer to Ichigo, her coat brushing his and sending strange shots of comfort through her veins. She needed to feel him beside her… for some reason.

 

“Yo,” he drawled in a twanging accent, his eyes glued to Rukia, “What are you two doing here?”

 

Rukia opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.

 

“Looking for you,” Ichigo supplied, his glance darting from his partner to their suspect. Rukia pursed her lips together and wondered if he could see how shaken by this man she was; Christ she hoped not.

 

Ichimaru leaned casually against the doorframe, smiling to the full extent of his wicked-looking lips. “Really?” He cooed, “Why?”

 

“We want to ask you some questions,” Ichigo answered, just as casually. Rukia swallowed and tried to take in a deep breath.

 

She blinked and chuckled darkly as a smirk crossed her face. “Are you enjoying yourself today, Mr. Ichimaru?”

 

He nodded at her and grinned, “Yeah…” his sentence ended on a long and slick drawl, meanwhile, Rukia reached behind her and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

 

“Really,” she asked as she twisted his arms behind his back and hooked the cuffs tightly to his wrists. “Does it have anything to do with that marijuana I smell?”

 

Ichimaru grunted at the feeling of the metal clamping around him. “Ah, come on, don't play me like that.”

 

Ichigo gave Rukia an appreciative nod and grasped the man's other arm, together, they led him gingerly down the decrepit stairs.

 

“Man,” Ichimaru whined, “Y'all can't do this to me!”

 

“Exigent circumstances dirt-bag,” Rukia told him. They began to walk through the streets, Ichimaru in between them, cuffed like a prized bull. People gave them killing looks and a few times Rukia thought she saw knives being flashed at them. She had to shake the thoughts of a stabbed body from her mind and continued, “Marijuana is still illegal, and you're in possession with probable intent to distribute.”

 

“But I'm not gonna distribute!” He whined as they neared the car and pushed him into the back. “I just like the joint!”

 

“Yes,” Ichigo said, his voice hard and policeman-like, “But we also want to ask you questions, so we'll take you to the precinct anyway.”

 

He shut the door on the drugged man and glanced over the car at Rukia. She nodded at him and asked smugly, “The two eight or the three one?”

 

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

 

“See this is bad Gin,” Ichigo said, taking off his coat and draping it across the first chair in the examination room, Gin was in the second one, Rukia was leaning against the wall gazing absentmindedly out the window. Ichigo flipped the chair around so his arms rested on the top of the back. “See, we've got four dead cops on our hands, and you seem to have vendetta against the men in blue.”

 

Gin—finally coming down from his high—bobbed his head. “Yeah, some stupid cop put me in the joint for five years.”

 

Rukia gave him a disgusted glance, “You remember the cop?”

 

Gin's eyes raked over her body, a familiar light of lust glazing over his expression, he grinned at her and said slyly, “He kinda looked like you, kinda talked like you too.”

 

Rukia's expression hardened and she stared him down, Gin simply smiled and turned his face back to Ichigo, who was practically snarling at the man. “You'll do well,” Ichigo growled softly, “If you talk to me and not my partner.”

 

“Oh?” Ichimaru asked, “And why is that?”

 

“Because you'll have a better chance with me than with her,” Ichigo told him lethally, “You see…” he pointed to Rukia, “That woman is the sister of the guy who collared you, and if she thinks you killed her brother, well… I don't think you'd leave this precinct with anything less than a needle in your arm.”

 

Gin's glance dropped from Ichigo's and flittered around the room, the one-way glass, the concrete walls, the barred window, and the two detectives. He sighed and said, “If I talk to you, what do I get?”

 

“Depends on what you have to say,” Rukia told him quietly. She marched over to him and slammed her hand, palm down, on the face of the overly-used table. “Did you kill any cops lately?”

 

Gin snorted and chuckled softly, “Fuck no!” He shook his head and continued, “I'm not stupid enough to kill a cop, I know what people get for doin' that shit.”

 

Ichigo leaned forward a bit, “I know, I understand Gin. You see a cop in your neighborhood and he starts pushing you around, I can understand what you went through. If you tell the D.A. he pushed you around he might be lenient.”

 

“Nah,” Gin waved his hand in the air and shook his head, “Nothing like that, I ain't killed nobody.”

 

“Then tell us who has,” Rukia snarled softly, her anger growing at Ichigo's insinuations about her brother.

 

Ichimaru shrugged, “All I know is that I sell coke to some people.”

 

“Who?” Ichigo demanded.

 

“Just some guys,” Gin mumbled, “No one special.”

 

“You're going to have to give us more than that Gin,” Ichigo told him harshly, “Or else you're going to have a needle in your arm one way or another.”

 

“Listen, okay,” he sighed and shrugged his shoulders heavily, “I sell some coke to this guy I know, his name is… something Tosen.”

 

“Did he pop the cops?” Ichigo asked him seriously.

 

“Nah,” Ichimaru snorted, “Nah he didn't pop no cop.”

 

Rukia's temper snapped. In less than a second she swiped her foot underneath Gin's chair and pushed his shoulder, thrusting him forcefully onto the ground. Before the suspect could even scream “police brutality” Rukia's hand wrapped around his throat and squeezing the sides.

 

Ichigo remained calmly seated as the scene unfolded before him; Rukia's hair was blocking his view of her face but he could tell that her cheeks were red and her eyes were shining darkly.

 

“You,” Rukia growled, “Tell me what I want to know or you will not make it out of here alive.”

 

Gin choked and whispered, “Y'all can't do that man!”

 

Rukia's hand tightened around his throat and she snarled, “Oh, but I think I can.” She pressed her thumb against his pulse, feeling the desperately fluttering object. “Now, stop pussyfooting around and tell me what you know.”

 

“Your guy was stabbed with a sword right?” Gin wheezed.

 

Ichigo lifted an eyebrow, “Well that's certainly not news to us, everyone who reads the paper knows that.”

 

Gin tried to shake his head but ended up further choking himself, he settled for saying, “But no one knows that he was stabbed with a really old sword.”

 

Rukia leaned her head down a bit, “How old?”

 

“Damn man,” he choked out, “I don't know… five, six hundred years.” Rukia shot Ichigo a knowing look, he nodded. “Fuck man, all I know is that it was really old and the dude was stabbed with it.”

 

“That `dude,'” Rukia snapped, “Was my brother. Show some respect for the dead.”

 

“Alright!” Ichimaru whined, “Alright! Just ease up a bit!”

 

The pressure on his throat lessened slightly; Rukia stared down at him hard, “Now, what do you know about the sword?”

 

Gin took in huge gulps of air as he spoke, “All I know is that I sell coke to this guy named Tosen, he has a major collection of swords.”

 

“Why should that be of any interest to us?” Ichigo asked casually, leaning forward slightly so he could see Ichimaru, keeping Rukia in his line of vision, making sure she didn't kill the man before they got a straight answer.

 

Gin shot him an obvious look, “Because none of them swords was bought at an auction. They was all stolen.”

 

“From where?” She demanded immediately, pressing her thumb down against his adams apple, hard enough to make a point but gentle enough not to start the choking. Ichigo had to admit, as far as explanations went, this one actually might help them.

 

“They was illegal,” he whimpered, his eyes widening in slight fear at what he thought the female detective would do to him. “They was all supposed to go to an art exhibit, I think, I'm not sure. Like a new Japanese Culture exhibit… I dunno! I dunno okay? The guy just came to me once a month for some coke, he would always throw parties for some `high end' clients.”

 

Ichigo frowned slightly, “Wait, what do you mean `came?' He doesn't come anymore?”

 

Gin's eyes shifted from Rukia to Ichigo, obviously contemplating whom to answer to. In the end, Rukia's fingers—still pressed against his throat—led his eyes towards her. “He stopped coming around June.” He squealed, “He musta found someone better.”

 

“Oh how sad,” Rukia sneered. She gave Gin one last, threatening squeeze of his adams apple and began to stand, just slowly enough to warn him what would happen if he made a false move.

 

Ichigo tried not to focus on how her body twisted when she moved. “So where do we find him?” He asked, clearing his throat slightly.

 

Gin sat up just an inch. “I dunno where he lives,” his fearful eyes flashed to Rukia and he set up his hands defensively, “I really don't. He always had someone come for me.”

 

“And he didn't come himself?” Rukia glared, her foot tapping against the floor. It took a moment for Ichigo to realize how close her booted heel was to Gin's crotch. He smirked and rolled his eyes, at least she knew how to instill fear in the hearts of men.

 

“Of course he don't come himself,” Gin said, keeping an eye on her tapping foot. “He's blind.”

 

Rukia's foot ceased clicking and Ichigo stopped rocking in his chair.

 

“What?” He asked, leaning forward and frowning. “He's what?”

 

Gin shifted uncomfortably on the floor, although he didn't dare get up. “He's blind. Don't ask me how a blind guy could ever get to be somebody like him in a business like that. Practice I guess, but still, it's the truth.”

 

“The truth,” Rukia chuckled darkly. She leaned forward just a bit, Ichigo saw how her hair began to list into her face, how her perfectly rounded ass stuck slightly out into the cold air of the interrogation room, and how her delicate hands pressed themselves into her knees. Ichigo tried not to notice those things about her… but he did. His face hot, he blinked and looked away.

 

Rukia was still intimidating Gin, “See, if you don't tell us the truth, I'll make sure to come back and yank it out of you myself.” Almost playfully, Rukia flicked her index finger against Gin's throat. He gulped convulsively.

 

“Now,” she continued, “Where do you meet his guy?”

 

Gin swallowed, “I always met his guy near the docks.”

 

“The docks?” Ichigo asked, piping up for the first time in a while. “They're over an hour out of town.”

 

The dealer shrugged, “The man likes his privacy,” he grinned slickly at Ichigo. “At least, I guess so.”

 

Ichigo rolled his eyes and sighed slightly, “Now, do you really want to be guessing when she already wants to kill you?”

 

Gin's smile dropped immediately and looked over fearfully towards Rukia.

 

She winked at him but her lips never curved into the sickening smile that seemed to always grace Gin's face. “You had better be right.” She murmured softly, almost wickedly. “See ya.”

 

With that she stood up and motioned to Ichigo, who followed her out of the interrogation room, they clicked the door behind them and motioned for a uniformed officer to go in and arrest the creep.

 

“What time is it?” Rukia asked softly, watching through the one-way glass as Gin was handcuffed, read his rights, and manhandled out of the interrogation room. A slight smirk was on her face.

 

Ichigo glanced at his watch, “It's almost seven.”

 

She turned to him and blinked, “Are you serious?” She asked, glancing out the window and seeing that it was indeed dusk. “I didn't think we were in there that long.”

 

“Time kind of melts in that room,” Ichigo remarked casually, “We were also in the slums for quite a while, so I guess it kind of makes sense.”

 

She nodded and sighed, leaning her back against the mirror. She moved her eyes to Ichigo and asked, “So, do you want to call it a day, or should we get some work done?”

 

Ichigo knew the answer even before he verbalized. Throughout the day he had noticed how jittery Rukia had acted. She had been up with him since a little before four in the morning and, if he was correct, he surmised that she hadn't even slept the night before. He could see the dark circles under her eyes and noticed the small yawns she tried to keep hidden from him.

 

Not that he would tell her that he noticed.

 

“No,” he replied casually, “Let's just go home. You must be tired from this morning.”

 

He saw how she bristled at his comment, “I can work a few more hours.” She told him defiantly.

 

He shot her a warning look and to his surprise she averted her tired eyes. “I don't care,” Ichigo remarked, “Come on Rukia, I'm tired.” He turned out of the room and yanked open the door, striding through it confidently.

 

She followed after him, but not before rolling her eyes nastily, “Whatever Kurosaki.”

 

Ichigo paused slightly at the sound of his last name. He doubted Rukia noticed, even as he whipped around and glared at her, simply because she was busy gathering her coat off the nearby rack. His gaze became momentarily hostile and he felt like snarling at her. Before she turn to him fully he began to walk faster out the door. She called after him in an irritated voice and had to rush after him. Ichigo didn't care; for some reason, his heart was beating with heated anger, he could feel his face flush and his ears burn slightly and deep inside… he knew it was all because of her.

 

“Kurosaki!” She barked, calling after him in a flustered voice. She had to run to catch up with him, his strides were so long compared to hers and when put into hurried steps like those she was almost sprinting to reach him. “Kurosaki! Wait up!”

 

He stopped in front of the car, his feet planted steadily in the earth. Rukia slowed slightly and began to walk towards him. Her mind told her to be angry with him for practically racing her to the car, but for some reason, she couldn't seem to muster enough anger to start yelling.

 

I'm getting too soft. She thought, slightly annoyed at herself. Or maybe it was just the way that he looked in the fading sunlight. It might have been the way his fiery orange hair looked even brighter in the crimsons, yellows, magentas, and gingers of the evening light. It might have been the way half of his devilishly handsome face was cast into shadows. It might have been how his bright, amber, eyes seemed to pierce every inch of her skin when they looked at her.

 

Rukia swallowed hurriedly, trying to put of the fire that had unknowingly started in the pit of her stomach. Since when had she ever started thinking about Ichigo—no, Detective Kurosaki—like that? Never, that was when, and she damn sure wasn't about to start now.

 

Her eyes were set into an angry glower and her fists were balled, “What the hell was that for?” She demanded loudly. Her footsteps were bringing her closer to him. Closer and closer. “Running off like that… what are you—two?”

 

She stopped in front of him and had every mind to give him one of the worst tongue lashing he had ever received when she felt his hands wrap tightly around her elbows, swing her around, and slam her back against the cold metal of the car. She yelped slightly at the unannounced motion and winced as her spine arched against the vehicle.

 

Her eyes went as wide as they had been in ages and angled towards his face, his own eyes were blazing with anger and frustration. Rukia didn't know what it was about the way he was staring at her right now, but it scared her and excited her all at once. She could feel her heart beating hard and fast in her chest and noticed how her skin tingled and bruised through the fabric of her shirt, directly where Ichigo's fingers were gripping her.

 

She gulped and began to breathe a bit harder.

 

“What,” Ichigo snarled, “Is your fucking problem?”

 

Rukia saw the anger in his eyes and felt some begin to seep into hers. “What are you talking about?” She demanded, attempting in vain to keep her voice steady.

 

Ichigo shook her slightly, ramming her spine against the metal. She winced slightly but was determined to keep her angry gaze on his.

 

“What I'm talking about,” he growled darkly, “Is you keeping everyone around you at arms length.”

 

Her jaw clamped shut and she narrowed her amethyst eyes, “Get your hands off of me.” She ground out.

 

“No.” Ichigo said, his grip tightening with every syllable. “This time you won't get away, this time you'll get to feel what it's like for someone to be close to you Rukia.”

 

She began to growl at his spitting pronunciation of her name. Who was he to tell her how she should act around other people? What right did he have at all?

 

“I bet you don't even call Renji by his first name.” He mocked darkly.

 

“Of course I do.” She growled, “I grew up with him.”

 

Ichigo's eyes flashed dangerously. “Then what about your lovers, if you've ever have any?”

 

“Shut up.” Rukia could feel the anger within her receding. All she could feel was her head beginning to spin.

 

“Or when you make love to someone, I'll bet you make sure he doesn't touch you where you know you want to be touched, just because you can't get over your fucking pride.”

 

“Pride?” She echoed darkly, “You want to talk about pride you jackass—!”

 

Ichigo's hands tightened even more and Rukia felt her mouth clamp shut, all of her protests forgotten. Rukia was having difficulty breathing. Ichigo pressed himself against her until she was trapped between his body and the car, the light from the fading sun spilling onto their bodies.

 

But he wasn't finished, no, not by a long shot.

 

“I'll bet that when you finish you get dressed, thank whoever he is, go directly home, and analyze the night like a science project.”

 

“Stop it.” She didn't know if she was begging now or not. All she could feel was Ichigo's body pushing against hers.

 

Suddenly, his hands weren't on her elbows anymore. One of them was on her waist, curling around her until it was pressed against her spine, pushing her towards him. The other hand was wrapping around her neck, tilting her head back until it was practically lying directly on the hood of the car. Rukia's breath was coming out in short, hot, pants, she didn't know why—she just couldn't seem to understand anything right now…

 

His thumb was running over her pulse and his breathing was beginning to become erratic. “I'll bet…” he began, his voice in a low, hushed whisper, “That… your lips really do taste as good as they look.”

 

Rukia's eyelids fluttered shut the moment before Ichigo's heated mouth lightly touched hers. Rukia shuddered at the inexplicable feelings that coursed through her veins the moment she felt him. Her heart began to beat furiously inside of her chest, her breathing was hot and erratic as it seeped into Ichigo very mouth, he breathed her in, reveling in her scent and taste before shifting his lips above hers.

 

She heard a guttural groan reach her throat from deep within her belly. He ran his tongue around the outer edges of her open mouth, feeling the silkiness of her perfect, pink, lips. Half of her, the half that wasn't panicking at how good it felt to have him touch her like this, wondered why he was feeling her lips like this, she was open to him, she wanted him—for some reason—to slip inside of her and curl his tongue around hers, warming and tasting her like no one had before.

 

So why was he hesitating?

 

Ichigo couldn't believe this was happening. He had dreamed of this moment since the minute he saw her lithe body and heard her overtly flippant mouth. Yes he had dreamed, even though most of the time he had tried to suppress them for fear of wanting her even more.

 

But Christ… she tasted just like he had imagined. The pinkness of her mouth was the freshness of the earths' clearest spring, sprinkled with just a hint of cherry blossoms. They were untainted with lipstick, gloss, or anything else that would impair her heavenly flavor. He brought her bottom lip in between his mouth, sucking lightly enough to please her but strongly enough to drink in more of her unbelievable taste.

 

He could feel her breathing, it was unsteady and almost helpless. He sucked her essence deep within him, until she was filling his lungs completely.

 

She was whimpering now, her mouth trying to form words as his tongue traced her moist lips and he sucked her lightly. Beyond the roaring inside of his ears, he could hear her throat beginning to form single syllables. It wasn't a `K' like he had thought it would be, but instead, the beginning of his first name, the subtle `I' he had wanted so badly to hear uttered from the lips he was now sampling.

 

“I… chi… go…” she whispered, drawing in one more shuddering breath before Ichigo's will crumbled.

 

The hand on the back of her neck gripped tightly and pressed her mouth completely against his. Ichigo's movements were almost desperate as he tilted his head to the side and gripped her hair tightly. His tongue was inside of her mouth, coaxing and teasing and tasting. Rukia whimpered at the feelings he was evoking, his wicked appendage was running over her teeth and the roof of her mouth and even wrapping itself around hers. He wanted her to follow him home.

 

She moaned softly and ended up probing gently into his mouth. His taste was exactly like him, spicy, hot, and passionate. He was warm and inviting and addictive. She felt herself exploring him almost against her will. And then suddenly, her hands were grappling for purchase on his shirt and pulling him closer until her chest was pressed directly against his. She was no longer leaning against the car but standing upright, her fingers scrunching his shirt and pressing every possible part of her body against his. She was kissing him vigorously now, tasting him and touching him and ransacking him completely.

 

Their lips burned together and their teeth clicked furiously as their tongues battled for dominance. Ichigo's first hand left her backside and reached up to cup her other cheek, angling her head so he could kiss her more effectively.

 

She moaned into his mouth as his thumbs ran over her cheeks, sending coarse shivers through ever part of her body. Her palms were sweating as they pressed against him, and almost on their own will, curled into arches, to be dragged like claws down his muscular front.

 

His kiss changed almost immediately. Within seconds his mouth was running over her jaw, her chin, and her neck, his tongue was skipping over her erratic pulse and his lips were sucking her skin as though he wanted to eat her whole. His hands were everywhere as well, running down the center of her chest, smoothing over her hips, skittering his fingers over her thighs, then grappling her buttocks, yanking her heated core towards him.

 

It was then… when Rukia felt the hard bulge of desire pressing insistently against her, that she knew she needed to pull away, and pull away fast.

 

Immediately her hands flattened against his chest and shoved him… hard.

 

Ichigo stumbled backwards, his fingers making strange, gripping movements, as if still trying to hold onto whatever he could reach of her. His eyes were blinking as if he had just recently been struck by a blinding light. He was panting and his chest was heaving diligently.

 

Only hers was heaving even harder, her breasts were tingling underneath strapped layers of clothing, and a heavy, throbbing sensation was pulsating between her legs. She blinked rapidly and pressed a hand against her heart, it was beating faster than it had ever beaten in her life. She leaned back heavily against the car and slumped down slightly, pressing one shaking hand to one shaking knee and another hand to her puffy, spent, lips.

 

She didn't dare look at Ichigo, she couldn't… she just couldn't.

 

“Rukia…” he croaked through rapid breaths.

 

She didn't look up, she only dropped her coat, turned on her heel, and bolted.

 

She heard him call out after her but she didn't care, she only continued running. She had done it before—run home that was, but she had never done it in desperation. She just knew she had to get out of there. She had to get out before she and Ichigo got into his car, drove to her apartment, stripped off each others clothes, and completed what they had just started.

 

There was just enough light to see by, and with that she sprinted, hard and hot. It was completely dark by the time she reached her home; she fumbled the key into the lock on her door and pushed it open. Reveling in the feeling of being in a place where she knew she was safe from the dangers of passion and lust.

 

She closed the door behind her and locked it. When the metal bolt clicked into place, Rukia rested her back against the oak and tried to steady her irregular breathing.

 

It wasn't right. She wasn't supposed to have done that. She didn't mean to. It was a mistake. She, Rukia Kuchiki, wasn't supposed to feel things like desire, passion and heat. Her heart wasn't supposed to beat itself senseless at the very thought of Ichigo's kiss, and the inside of her legs was not supposed to be this warm or this wet at the very thought of his body pressing against hers.

 

Not her. No, most definitely not her.