Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Odalisque ❯ Chapter 13 ( Chapter 13 )

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

 

 

 

Odalisque

 

Chapter 13

 

“What do you think?” Rukia took the dress off the rack and pulled it against her body.

 

Momo shook her head and pried the dress from her hands. “Do you want to look like a nun?”

 

“No,” her friend replied, “I want to look… professional. Maybe a bit conservative. You know these old-school business types. Over fifty, proficient, skilled… proper.”

 

Momo began searching through more racks and bit her bottom lip softly. “Honey, I also know that these guys like to pop those little blue pills and enjoy twenty-something leggy blondes while their wives chatter back at the penthouses.” She dragged a skimpy, shimmering, bright pink number from the back of the rack and showed it to her. “You should wear something that will make their eyes stay on you for the entire evening. That way you'll be sure to have tons of people coming to talk to you. You'll snag deal after deal after deal and schmooze like there's no tomorrow. Don't deny it. You know you'd be a bombshell in anything like this.”

 

“Oh please,” she grumbled angrily and sniffling pathetically. She put the dress back onto the rack and wrinkled her nose. “I'm not going to wear something that revealing.”

 

“Well could you at least wear something just a bit revealing?” Momo sighed in a defeat and began to search through the glittering fabrics once again. “I think one with a plunging something would be beautiful. A couple drapes here and there, no frills or embroidery, on you that would just look tacky. But anything else…” she whistled softly and nodded. “It would be gorgeous.”

 

Rukia put a tissue to her nose and blew into it miserably. She saw one of the clothing attendants give her a dirty look but Rukia gave it right back. She was in one of the most expensive dress boutiques in the entirety of Karakura and damn it all if she wasn't going to pay full price for a very pricy dress she would wear only once. So she felt she had an absolute right to blow her nose in this stuffy place, especially since she was getting over a cold. A cold that was supposed to be over with nearly a week and a half ago.

 

Rukia cursed her fate. Why did her immune system have to take a vacation now instead of building up for the coming winter? Still, the damn cold was light; the fever had gone away the day she had gotten it—mostly due to House of Wong's famously medicinal chicken noodle soup—but the sniffles and the headaches had decided to stay on for almost a week longer. Nasty little bastards.

 

Yet, cold and all, it was Saturday, and since she didn't have any work to do she was going to spend it shopping with Momo. She needed a new dress for the fancy announcement party Aizen was having and Momo wanted to look at plates to use for the rehearsal dinner.

 

Rukia hitched her purse onto her shoulder and began to thumb through the dresses again. She saw something with a high neck and passed it over. Although she didn't really want to admit it she knew that Momo was right, about the dresses, that is.

 

These stuffy business types, especially the older ones, liked their women. Young women, to be especially precise. Half of the men she did business with, by the time they were fifty five, had divorced the person they married when they were young and remarried a woman who was at least thirty five years their junior.

 

They're barely old enough to drive, Rukia thought sourly.

 

She knew what drew in men like that: tits and ass, that's what. She wrinkled her nose and fought off a sneeze. Guys like that disgusted her; they had more money and power than they knew what to do with, they were typically fat, ugly, and old but drew in whore after money-grubbing whore. She shuddered; she couldn't imagine having so little respect for yourself that you'd be willing to trade your dignity for a couple hundred dollars.

 

They should just get jobs, Rukia thought, shaking her head. Oh well, that's the way the world works though. Nothing I can do about it.

 

After nearly thirty minutes of searching, futility, and attempting to ease the flow of snot coming out of her nose Rukia stopped. She pulled out a small dress and blinked at it twice.

 

It was black and shining beautifully. The silk was light and feathery and it shimmered whenever she adjusted it. She turned the dress on the hanger and felt her breath whoosh out from her throat. The front was a scoop neckline but it wasn't just one bolt of fabric; the neck was made of several draped lines and patterns. She flipped it in her hands and her eyes widened. The back was nearly nonexistent. The straps were placed precariously on the shoulders and then the rest of it plunged downward until the hemline landed directly above her ass. She gulped loudly before she clutched it to her chest and turned to Momo.

 

“I'm trying this one on.” She whispered squeakily, although the decibel level of her voice might have something to do with the phlegm stuck in her throat. She showed Momo the color of the fabric, but not the actual dress, and swallowed. “Try and find a pair of shoes and a purse to match this color please.” Her voice was breathless and she dashed into the fitting room while Momo ran to the other side of the store, where hundreds of shoes and purses were on display.

 

Rukia shut the door to the fitting room and hung up her purse immediately. She'd never tell anyone but shopping for clothing was one of her favorite things to do. She just adored going into nice places, finding gorgeous clothing, and putting them on and feeling like a princess. Normally this sensation was only brought on by dresses and extremely fancy clothing but it occasionally occurred with a nice business suit.

 

Self-denial and fierce resolve were basically the only two things that saved Rukia from becoming a full-out shop-a-holic. She just told herself that if she wanted to retire by forty she'd actually need a fat bank account rather than a completely outdated—yet elegant—wardrobe.

 

Rukia tore off her sports jacket, skirt, heels, and even her brazier—even though it was Saturday she had to dress nicely to actually get into a place like this—and removed the dress from the hanger. Goosebumps were sent down her arms as she slipped the silk over her entire form. It fit her body like a glove… a perfect, beautiful, shimmering, glove.

 

She turned in the mirror and blushed softly at the sight of her milky white, flawless, back exposed to her waiting eyes. Her gaze followed the line of her spine and she grinned at the sight. She twirled around to the front and smoothed her hands over the fabric. It felt like she was moving her fingers through butter. The length of the dress was also fantastic. It was enough to cover her feet and but not enough to be dragging three inches onto the ground.

 

“Rukia!” Momo cried from beyond the door. Rukia stopped admiring herself long enough to ask for the shoes, grab them, and slip them on. She smirked at the strapped, heeled, shoes and slipped them onto her feet. There was the added bonus that these heels made her about an inch taller. That should be good for any dancing that needed to be done.

 

“Are you coming out?” Momo called anxiously.

 

Rukia grinned, took one more moment to admire her gorgeous appearance, and opened the door. She stepped out in a flourish and grinned like a schoolgirl.

 

Momo gasped and Rukia—mid-twirl—saw her hands fly to her mouth. She swirled the dress around once more with her hands for emphasis and took a princess step forward. She wasn't sure how gorgeous she looked with flushed cheeks, less-than-needed makeup, and a Rudolph-the-Red-Nose-Reindeer snout but in this dress she felt like a goddess.

 

“Oh… my… god,” Momo whispered softly. A huge grin was plastered onto her face and her legs were jiggling as though she felt the need to jump up and down. “It's perfect Rukia!”

 

“I know!” She squealed—yes, Rukia Kuchiki actually squealed—and then sighed softly. “This is perfect.” She showed Momo the back and raised her eyebrows slightly. “See? You see the back? It's a bit sexy but not too much.”

 

Momo bit her bottom lip and nodded. “I don't know Rukia; it looks pretty sexed-up to me.” She shook her head and Rukia wondered if Momo thought she was going to change her mind about the dress. That was an absolute no. Rukia had fallen in love with this outfit the moment she saw it. And if there was one thing she believed in it was love at first sight… when it came to clothing and jewelry, that is.

 

“I'm buying it.” She said forcefully. “And these shoes too. Did you find a purse?”

 

Obediently, Momo thrust a tiny silk bag, which matched the fabric color of her new dress, into her hands. It had a wrinkled yet patterned exterior and a small silver clasp on the front. Rukia grinned hugely and took care not to wipe her dripping nose on anything she was about to purchase. She dashed into the dressing room, gently took off the dress, hastily put back her clothes, and checked to make sure she didn't look like a vagrant.

 

She pulled herself out of the dressing room and tightened her ponytail. Momo was waiting for her outside, holding her precious shoes and purse. She jumped to attention as Rukia came out and fixed her collar.

 

“Are you sure you're not going to go?” She asked her friend softly. “I thought that Toshiro was going to the big event too?”

 

“Oh he invited me,” she said breezily, “But I don't really want to go, Toshiro's better with all that business-y and schmooz-y stuff than me. I'd probably embarrass him or something.”

 

“I'm sure you wouldn't.” Rukia assured her even though she was quiet sure that Momo would have a ninety eight percent chance of saying something utterly stupid should she actually go to this particular event.

 

“I told Shiro that I was going to work out the seating plan for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding.” She shrugged, “And I know that you'll tell me all about it the next day.”

 

“You know it,” Rukia replied.

 

“Even though you won't tell me anything about why the party is actually being thrown.” Momo muttered sourly. “I can't believe that it's so top secret, even though everyone's already been invited. Don't they think that's weird? I mean, I wouldn't want to go to a party where I didn't know what I was celebrating.”

 

“What about a surprise party?” Rukia inquired as she gave the attendant the dress, shoes, and the purse. She told them exactly how she wanted them wrapped—much to the annoyance of the stuffy attendant—and passed them her platinum credit card.

 

“Only if you're the suprisee, not the supriser.” Momo reasoned logically. “But everyone else is basically in on the surprise. So that doesn't count.”

 

“Well,” Rukia thought, “I bet that everyone who was invited to the party knows the reason why it's being held. Investors, big-wigs, fat businessmen, a few of my colleagues, people like that. They should definitely know, even though the event was supposed to be kept locked up tight.” Rukia frowned and placed the newly spent card back into her wallet. “I wonder if my brother will be there.”

 

“Oh wow,” Momo muttered, “That would be a bit uncomfortable.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Rukia sighed, she took her bags and moved towards the door. The attendants waved them goodbye and told them to come again but Rukia ignored them. “I'd be expected to actually talk to him at some point in the evening, and that would just be… hard.”

 

“Yeah,” her friend agreed, “I'd bet on that. I met your brother once and I couldn't stand to be around him for a few minutes. He might look like a model but he's freaky scary. All quiet and… and… frigid; I guess that would be the right word. You'll have to be around him for a while and actually converse.” Momo frowned at her and then asked, “Hey, what do you guys talk about?”

 

“We don't talk,” Rukia replied, “However, when a phone conversation is penciled in we talk about business, how my job is going, how I can improve my life, and when I'm going to produce an heir to the Kuchiki Family fortune.”

 

Momo, who had just opened the bottle of water she always kept inside of her purse, nearly dropped the thing she turned around so fast. “What?”

 

“I made up the last part,” she muttered, smirking at the way Momo reacted. “Well, sort of, he doesn't say it but I know he wants to ask.” She shrugged her shoulders, “I mean, I'm almost twenty seven years old, to him, I should have been married five years ago. He was married to my sister when he was twenty five and she was nineteen.”

 

“How old were you?”

 

“Six.”

 

“So he's forty five?” Momo mused softly. “And he's never remarried. When did you sister die again?”

 

“When I was eighteen.” She said, “Byakuya was thirty six.”

 

“Wow,” Momo whispered, “Nine years. In a way it's kind of sad but it's also kind of sweet.” She turned to her friend and frowned, “But do you honestly think he'd choose someone for you to marry?”

 

Rukia shrugged, “Honestly? Sometimes I think he goes through a list of possible husbands for me before he goes to bed, you know, rich trust-fund whiners in their thirties or whatnot. The type of guy you'd marry only for family prestige. I wouldn't really put it past him to choose one of them for me.”

 

Momo looked like she was going to choke on her own saliva. Rukia raised an eyebrow at her over-zealous reaction but wondered if it had something to do with her own upcoming wedding. “Is that still legal?” She gaped.

 

“Oh sure,” Rukia said, “But it doesn't mean that I'm going to accept. I'm my own legal guardian, I have my own means of support, and I'm not technically a Kuchiki blood relative so I have the right to refuse him.”

 

Momo let out a long, satisfied, breath. “Thank God, I would just hate the thought of you marrying someone you didn't love.”

 

Rukia wanted to snort at the idea of love but kept it to herself. “Yeah well, if you ever have kids and I don't, I'll make sure that Auntie Rukia wills them all of her money.”

 

Momo gave her a sly grin and snickered lightly. “Auntie? What are you talking about Auntie for?”

 

“Well,” Rukia bristled, “I might act like an aunt and all even though I'm not technically related to you.”

 

“I didn't mean that Rukia,” Momo teased as she hopped around on the sidewalk, “I mean you're going to be their godmother, not Auntie.”

 

Rukia scowled hard and wrinkled her nose. “I suppose I should feel honored or something, right?”

 

“Yes… yes you should.” Momo looped her arm into Rukia's unoccupied one and the two began happily walking down the street. “Come on, I need a Saturday of shopping. Let's go get some lunch.”

 

“Fine,” Rukia grumbled, “But tomorrow we're running harder than ever.”

 

Momo just sighed and said it would be worth it.

 

*~*~*

 

Ichigo sat with his father and his sisters, ignoring them calmly, munching on a spinach omelet puff, and watching the tiny snack kiosk with interest.

 

Oh that and he was thinking about how soft Rukia Kuchiki's face was.

 

The spinach-omelet puff melted on his tongue and he swallowed it happily. Even something as weird as a spinach omelet puff was good when Yuzu made it. He reached for another one and had to fight Karin for the particular puff. He gave it to her in the end and his fingers found a cinnamon streusel puff instead. He bit into it and a small amount of sugar fell onto his shirt. He wiped it off while Isshin accused him of letting himself go. Ichigo had to make a biting remark about Isshin's figure and toss a rock at his head before he could get any peace.

 

His gaze returned to the kiosk and he glanced at his wristwatch. He wondered if she would be showing up again. It had been nearly three weeks since he had seen her in only a sports bra and a pair of running shorts. He must have missed her in the last few Sundays because he knew that she would rather cut off her own finger than miss a Sunday run with that friend of hers, Momo Hinamori. Especially when the bride-to-be depended on Rukia to keep her on her special diet and workout regiment.

 

He coughed lightly in his throat and paid more attention to the man who was currently dishing out an array of ice cream cones to a batch of kids. Ichigo sighed and looked longingly at the dripping, sweet, chilly, treat. It was nearly one hundred degrees outside and he could feel that it was only going to get hotter. He wondered wistfully if Rukia would be once again without her shirt, just for the hell of it. Probably not, if anything she gave it to Momo, who would be complaining about the heat of course. She would probably even start crying. Maybe Ichigo should make some sort of internal bet on it.

 

He groaned softly and pulled the collar of his shirt away from his skin. “God it's hot.” He grunted angrily.

 

“Ichigo,” Karin scoffed, “Just take your shirt off. Everyone else is doing it.”

 

“Yes my son!” Isshin sang, ripping his own shirt off of his gorilla chest, “I'm doing it too! We can have a shirtless picnic party!” He flexed his muscles like a professional body-builder, even though he had only a fraction of the muscle. Ichigo had to look away before he threw up.

 

Then Karin decided to chime in. “I'm sure half-naked chick would enjoy it.”

 

He glared down at his obstinately annoying sister and growled, “Her name is Rukia Kuchiki and for the billionth time, her being half-naked is none of your business.”

 

Karin paused and slowly turned her head back to her brother. Her eyebrows were furrowed softly and her mouth was twisted into a grimace. “Wait a sec… Kuchiki? How do I know that name?”

 

“Her brother is Byakuya Kuchiki,” Ichigo told them all. Even his father and Yuzu chimed in to listen. He rolled his eyes and groaned. He wanted to be looking for Rukia in peace, not talking to his family while she might be walking by at any minute.

 

Ichigo nearly choked at how eager he sounded just to get a look at Rukia. He cringed inwardly and passed a hand over her face. His family glanced on in curiosity but Ichigo remained silent. He didn't like how he was acting. It was crazy. He did like being fixated on one particular person, especially a woman. He never got like this when it came to the opposite sex.

 

Actually, the last time he had been this attentive of one single person was when he mildly stalked a rock star. This was different though… this was weird.

 

He told himself that it was only a tiny guilty pleasure. So what? Rukia Kuchiki had a nice form, so what if he liked to look at her—and occasionally imagine her—dressed in rather tight, skimpy, clothing? He was just a man who liked to appreciate her rather fine body.

 

It was just a fantasy. Nothing more and nothing less… and it definitely wouldn't go any further than that.

 

“Byakuya Kuchiki is he owner of the Kuchiki Corporation,” Ichigo continued after a moment of silence, “He has the biggest weapons defense contract in the entire country resting in his palm.”

 

“Oh,” Karin muttered, “Yeah, I remember him. In my government class we had to do a project on a prominent member of Karakura society and this dude in my class did that Kuchiki person.”

 

“Who did you do your report on Karin?” Yuzu asked politely.

 

She shrugged, “I don't remember.”

 

Ichigo sighed and turned his head back to the kiosk. He shook his head at his family and stood up from the pack. He quickly took off his shirt and tossed it back onto the blanket. Karin wrinkled her nose at the sweaty fabric that Ichigo tossed very close to her. He dug his wallet out of his pocket and said to his family. “Do you guys want ice cream or something?”

 

Karin screamed yes, Isshin tried to attack Ichigo for insulting Yuzu's cooking once again, and Yuzu looked woefully at her small basket of food.

 

Ichigo dodged his father and groaned. “Yuzu, your food is delicious but it's like one thousand degrees outside. I just thought something cool would be nice, that's all.” He narrowed his eyes and kicked his father in the stomach when he tried to get up from the ground.

 

“I want chocolate,” Karin told him.

 

“Make it two!” Yuzu chipped in, her mood completely changed because of her brothers explanation.

 

“I want p-pis-tachio!” Isshin wheezed from his place in the fetal position.

 

“Got it,” he said and turned to the kiosk.

 

As he walked down the small hill to the little stand Ichigo couldn't help but notice how the stares were drawn towards him. They mainly came from women but he couldn't help but notice that there were also quite a few from men—especially the men who carried tiny dogs on studded leashes and wore shirts with popped collars. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and smirked his famous smirk. He grinned as one woman—while walking beside her husband and holding her wiggly toddler in her hands—stopped on the path and followed his progress with her eyes and body.

 

Ichigo couldn't help it if he looked good. Well, good might be a bit of an understatement. In all honesty, he looked a bit… dangerous. Muscles weren't the only things on his chest. He also had a rather impressive amount of scars and bruises decorating his skin. What everyone around him didn't know was that he boxed and did a style of mixed martial arts with a psychopath whenever he could. Zaraki Kenpachi never held anything back when he and Ichigo fought together. Ichigo had to even go to the emergency room four times for fractured bones. The bastard had even cut him a few times when he went crazy and brought a folding chair into the ring.

 

Ichigo shook his head when he remembered that time. He had knocked the guy out with an uppercut to the chin and ran out of the training room as fast as he could. He knew that if he stayed Zaraki would wake up and go at him again. Chair included.

 

A few kids who were standing in front of him at the stall turned around, saw him, and immediately ran to their parents.

 

“Little punks,” Ichigo muttered as he stepped up to the front.

 

“Hello,” the kind man said and Ichigo nodded in acknowledgement.

 

“Hey, I'll have two chocolates, a pistachio, and a strawberry.” He told him, fishing the money out of his wallet and putting it on the counter.

 

“Cones or cups?”

 

“Cups,” he sighed, “It'll melt too fast.”

 

“Coming right up.”

 

*~*~*

 

“You can do it Momo! Don't give up!” Rukia called out to her friend, who was currently lagging about fifteen feet behind her. She turned her head back to the front and glimpsed an opening in the trees. Rukia's body filled with heady elation as she prepared to finish her first run. With a final burst of speed she bolted out, her feet crunched hard into the gravel, and her teeth bit into the bottom of her lip. The sun hit her full force as she exited the shadows of the trees and gasped in relief. Her heart was pounding hard in the center of her chest and she immediately doubled over. Her skin was tingling and felt fresh in the baking heat.

 

“Ah!” She cried. She immediately switched positions and began stretching her lithe limbs. She pulled her hands over her head and leaned backwards. She felt her spine extend and she giggled lightly at the tickling feeling.

 

She turned around and grinned happily at Momo. She shouldn't have looked so content though, not when Momo was so red in the face she looked like she could fade into a tomato patch and never be noticed again. She was gasping hard for breath, jerking hard on her knees, clutching her chest, and coughing up phlegm.

 

“You'll be alright,” Rukia said in a chipper tone. “Come on, we've still got one more lap to go.”

 

Momo's arms flailed and she desperately clawed for Rukia's arm. Rukia raised an eyebrow and noticed that she had never heard anyone ever breathe that hard. She narrowed her eyes and stared at her friend's face. Wait a second, were her lips turning blue?

 

“Good lord Momo,” she laughed, “Breathe. Remember, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger and hotter.”

 

Momo was bent down double, one hand on her knee and one hand on Rukia's arm. Her nails were cutting into her skin and Rukia winced slightly. “Momo, come on, it's not that bad.”

 

“Waaaah-ter,” she gasped.

 

“Alright, alright,” Rukia sighed, irritated through and through. She didn't know why Momo was being so dramatic. So it was a little hot, so what? She didn't have to act like she was dying. Actually, Rukia thought the heat felt refreshing. While she preferred the winter seasons she wasn't going to deny that she liked the sensation of sweat running down her back and stomach. It made her feel like she just accomplished something great.

 

“I'll be right back,” she smiled, “You just stay right here.” She pried Momo's hand off of her arm and brought her to the nearest tree. She propped her friend against it and practically skipped off to their water stand. She stepped out from the rest of the trees and happily dug three dollars out from her shorts. She prided herself on always buying exercise shorts with little pockets. She didn't want to always hand the kiosk man dollars that were sticky with sweat; that was just gross.

 

She yanked the three dollars into the sun and smoothed them out. Today was a good day, it was sunny, birds were singing, a light breeze was ruffling through the trees, her cold was completely gone, she was running, and when she got home she was going to treat herself to a nice lunch. Maybe she'd order out or even try to cook something. It might be futile but she always liked a challenge.

 

She was about to come up and place three dollars on the counter of the kiosk when she looked up and stopped in her tracks. Her eyes grew wide and round, her body stood stock still, the muscles in her neck froze, and she couldn't… look… away.

 

“Oh. My. God.”

 

No, that wouldn't be an appropriate proclamation. Because he wasn't her god, he was just a god. Ichigo Kurosaki stood at her water kiosk, patiently waiting for the attendant to fill up four cups of ice cream, and tapping one finger onto the counter.

 

Without his shirt on.

 

She felt her throat close up and wondered if she was having some sort of allergic reaction. Honestly, her heart wouldn't be beating this fast unless she was being deprived of oxygen and she wouldn't be deprived of oxygen if her throat wasn't closing up and her throat wouldn't be closing up if she wasn't having an allergic reaction to something! Maybe a bee stung her because she certainly wasn't having difficulty breathing because Ichigo Kurosaki looked like an Olympic god without his shirt on.

 

Rukia took two steps back, thankful that he hadn't noticed her yet, and tried to look away. She couldn't though. She just couldn't. Her eyes seemed drawn to him like—oh this sounds so cheesy—a moth to the flame.

 

Ichigo Kurosaki had a fantastic body. Her violet eyes bypassed his face and looked at the impressive breadth of his shoulders. She had to admit that even though she noticed that he had impressive shoulders while he was still clothed in a business suit there was even a better view from this shirtless point. She followed her gaze down his chest and gulped at his arms and pectorals. His muscles were hard and sinewy but he wasn't bulky. He was slim and… and beautiful even. Rukia looked down his body even further. She could see each muscle in his abdomen. He had such an impressive stomach, she was quite sure that if she had to, she could wash clothing on it. There was also a small trail of golden hair etched down the center of his body. Right down to where they disappeared into his shorts. She could even see the small tips of devil horns poking from the top of his waistband.

 

Rukia felt wetness inside of her mouth and realized she was salivating. Her hand flew up to her mouth and she bit her bottom lip. “Oh my God,” she whispered softly. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep, shuddering, breath. She blinked hard and felt a blush creeping onto her face when she realized the she wasn't simply wet because she was sweaty… and this place had nothing to do with her newly completed run.

 

She was ready to turn around and dash back into the sanctity of the woods when his voice stopped her.

 

“Rukia?”

 

She gulped and raised her face just a bit. She made sure to keep her eyes above his collarbone or else she might… her eyes slipped down a bit and she had to bite her lip hard to draw her own attention back to his face. Christ she hoped he thought she was just sunburned and not blushing. No, she definitely wasn't blushing at him. Not because he was standing there… without a shirt… looking completely hot.

 

He smirked and walked towards her. She steeled her muscles and desperately hoped her knees would stop shaking very soon. He stopped only about two feet away from her and she swallowed convulsively.

 

“W-What are you doing here?” She asked him. She had to fight not to make her voice squeak, although she couldn't do anything about that stupid stammer in the beginning of her question.

 

He smiled down at her—it was a smile, not one of his normal smirks. What was wrong with him?—and jerked his ridiculously orange had back to the top of the hill. “It's the weekly Kurosaki Family Picnic Day.”

 

Rukia swallowed hard and kept her eyes on his nose. She had to or else she'd stare at his glowing, golden, body—how in the world was he so tan? He couldn't get any sun while wearing suits all the time! Was that even natural?

 

“Oh, you're family is here?” She asked calmly, crossing her arms over her breasts. She was wearing a sports bra and didn't want him to notice anything was, er, amiss, with her chest.

 

“Yeah, my crazy dad, my happy sister, and my sulky sister.” He pointed back up to the hill and waved a bit. Rukia followed his gaze and saw that only a little ways away there were three people sitting on top of a hill. One of them was a man in his mid to late forties and two young girls in their early twenties. One of the girls, she had short blond hair and a happy face—or at least, it looked happy from this distance—waved back to her brother. Rukia saw the grown man, Ichigo's father apparently, stare down intently at his son, jerk back in surprise, and then begin to jump up and down. Rukia blinked as she watched him start to run in small circles around his daughters. The girl with the dark hair seemed to be attempting to restrain him while the blond was waving her hands as though trying to make peace.

 

“They look… interesting,” Rukia stated blankly. She raised her eyes as his father was punched in the stomach by the dark-haired girl. He curled into the fetal position and both of Ichigo's sisters turned to them, staring openly.

 

“Interesting is an understatement.” Ichigo admitted disgustedly. “My dad is Isshin, the girl with black hair is Karin, and the one with the blond hair is Yuzu.”

 

“Oh,” Rukia said, even though she wasn't exactly sure why Ichigo was telling her this. “That's nice.”

 

He turned to her and smirked, “I would tell you that you'd meet them at a company picnic but my dad was actually banned from coming to them.”

 

“Wow,” Rukia said, raising her eyebrows and turning slightly away from the shirtless Ichigo Kurosaki. “What did he do?”

 

“Set all the picnic tables on fire.”

 

“How did he do that?”

 

He shrugged. “Even the fire department couldn't figure that out.”

 

“That's… special.” Rukia nodded, smirking a bit as well.

 

He looked around her and frowned. “Where's your friend?”

 

Rukia instinctively looked back to the trees and wondered if Momo was still standing… or breathing. “Momo? Oh, she's resting back in the trees.”

 

“I'm guessing you're not taking it easy on her.”

 

Rukia scoffed, “Please, it's just a little hot out, it's not like it'll kill her.”

 

He stared pointedly at her and shook his head, “It's nearly one hundred degrees out here.”

 

“Good, the better to sweat out the toxins.” She affirmed, crossing her arms a bit tighter around her chest. She looked desperately behind him and noticed that his ice cream was ready. “Oh, looks like your stuff is ready.”

 

He turned back to the counter and nodded. “Thanks,” he said to the attendant. He turned back to Rukia, who was not-so-calmly observing the trees above her. He grinned slightly and moved towards his family. “See you tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah,” she choked out, “See you.”

 

Only when he was completely out of earshot did Rukia feel she was able to finally let go of her breath. She swallowed hard and pressed a hand against her hammering heart. Her chest felt tight, her face was burning, and her throat was constricted horribly. She felt like a python was wrapping itself around her neck. She came up to the counter and pressed the three dollars onto the surface.

 

The attendant smiled at her and if he noticed her flustered state he didn't say anything. He frowned and looked around her. “Where is Ms. Momo?”

 

“Recuperating,” Rukia muttered, fanning herself lightly with her hand.

 

“Oh,” he pulled two waters out from an icy cooler and Rukia immediately pressed one to her face. She was burning and she knew it wasn't from the sun. “Ms. Rukia?” She looked back up to him and smiled softly, he grinned back and motioned to the top of the hill with his head. “Do you know that man?”

 

Rukia swallowed hard and wondered if he really could see how disconcerted she was. “Yeah, I work with him. Why?”

 

He shrugged and began to flip through a celebrity gossip rag. “It's just that a few weeks ago he came up and asked about you.”

 

Rukia blinked. “Wait, what?”

 

He looked up and nodded, “About… three weeks ago I think, yeah, that was it. He wanted to know Ms. Momo's name. He said he worked with you.”

 

“Yeah, he does but…” Rukia's head clouded for a moment and she swallowed once again. Three weeks ago? He had asked about her back then? Why? He said he—

 

“Oh,” Rukia whispered, “The weekly Kurosaki Family Picnic.” She could have smacked herself for being so dense. He had been here all this time? He must have seen her for the past few weeks. Rukia shook her head and grabbed both of the bottles with iron grips. She walked back to the forest with her head filled with questions. No answers came to mind immediately and she realized belatedly that she'd have to wait and ask them to him herself.

 

She groaned and continued walking back to her possibly-unconscious friend. She didn't like waiting.

 

*~*~*

 

“And who might that have been, Ichigo?” Yuzu giggled happily as she accepted her chocolate ice cream.

 

“I already told you,” he growled, “It was Rukia Kuchiki, the woman I work with. I had to talk to her about a new file I wanted to start on Monday.”

 

“Sure you did,” Karin said, accepting her ice cream cup from her brother with a snicker. “There seemed to be a bit more going on there.”

 

“You should have invited her to come up,” Yuzu cheered happily, “I'm sure she'd love my cinnamon streusel puffs.”

 

“Or those spinach ones,” Ichigo said, placing his father's pistachio cup in front of his pained face. He was still curled in a ball and wheezing softly. Ichigo wondered exactly where Karin had hit him… and was that vomit over there? He shied to the side just in case his sister had any inclinations to punch him south of the border as well. He grabbed up his strawberry ice cream and plopped a spoon inside.

 

“Don't change the subject Ichigo,” Yuzu stated matter-of-factly, “I mean, I think it's pretty obvious that you like her.”

 

“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “Once she told me that if the building was burning and she had a chance to save her Chappy the Rabbit mug or me she'd choose the mug.” He gave his sister a pointed look and rolled his eyes. “I think I'm safe from her.”

 

“I don't blame her,” Karin chimed in, “Chappy is pretty popular and that mug must be a special edition collectible, only a couple hundred of them were made in the early eighties. I don't blame her for wanting to save the cup over you.”

 

Ichigo, Yuzu, and even Isshin turned and blinked at their surly sister. Karin merely shrugged, “What? I had to do a project on a cultural phenomenon in the last five decades. I chose Chappy. Besides… that little rabbit is cute.”

 

“Where are you and what have you done with my sister?” Ichigo demanded through a spoonful of strawberry ice cream.

 

“Bite me Ichigo,” she sniped, “And besides, you can't tell me that that girl wasn't avoiding you just a bit much. She's obviously into you.”

 

“I highly doubt that.”

 

Yuzu smiled softly at him, “And I'm sure that you didn't take your shirt off just because it's a bit hot.”

 

“Shut it Yuzu,” he mumbled, although he was careful to take all vehemence out of his voice in case his tender sister took offense. “I don't like her and she doesn't like me. It's as simple as that.”

 

“If you say so,” she sang.

 

“I do say so.” He shot back.

 

“Ichigo! Don't yell at your sister!” His father screamed, gently unfolding himself from his painful position.

 

Ichigo rolled his eyes and sighed.

 

And it begins again.

 

*~*~*

 

“What took you so long?”

 

Rukia swallowed and just handed Momo—who was lying on the gravel path, completely oblivious to all the people who were jumping over her or the bugs that were currently crawling around inside of her hair—the water bottle and drank from her own. She still found it difficult to swallow given the large obstruction currently blocking her esophagus. She looked down and saw her hand shaking just a bit.

 

“What's the matter?” Momo asked. She rose slightly in order to take a drink. Her flushed cheeks immediately lessened in redness and she sighed like she had just finished an orgasm. “Thank God!” She cried and began to chug down the rest of the drink.

 

“Don't get too comfortable,” Rukia told her quietly, “We still have another four miles.”

 

Momo plopped back onto the ground, empty bottle in hand, “This trail was designed as a torture mechanism.”

 

“Not really,” Rukia sighed, taking a seat on the ground next to her friend. Sure it made it harder for people to jump over the both of them but she simply ignored the dirty looks sent her way. She was Rukia Kuchiki; she didn't bow to anyone…

 

Especially certain coworkers who just happened to possess very impressive muscular structures.

 

“I saw Ichigo Kurosaki without his shirt on.” She told her friend, her voice was no more than a whisper but she knew that she caught it anyway.

 

Surprisingly, Momo didn't jump up and start extolling the virtuous features of Kurosaki's supposed—and now confirmed—hotness. Instead she simply turned her head to the side and blinked at Rukia. “And?”

 

Rukia closed her eyes. Momo had this uncanny ability to know when Rukia needed her to be serious. Most of the time she had to be funny, persuasive, and annoying just to get Rukia to do things that normal, human, twenty-six year old women did. But she always seemed to notice the slight change in Rukia voice, that certain treble in her tone, that told her Rukia needed a serious, contemplative, advice-giving friend. It also helped that she never teased her about these conversations either. Whenever both Rukia and Momo were in serious mode it was almost like doctor-patient confidentiality. Neither one would mention these talks.

 

Rukia closed her eyes. “I liked it.”

 

Beside her, Momo smiled.

 

 

 

 

(A/N: So I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!  Yay! I want everyone to know that Odalisque is currently longer than Murder My Heart.  MMH is 354 pages on Word and Odalisque has just surpassed it.  I feel quite proud of myself.  :D  Also, I know that I've been updating every Friday or so but I'm leaving for college this coming Thursday.  Updates might become more sporadic.

 

I love everyone who has reviewed for my fic!  Thank you so much!  It's the reason why authors write!  PLEASE REVIEW, REVIEW, and REVIEW!)