Summary: Ichigo Kurosaki is a young, rich and famous soccer player who can't help but feel like something's missing despite having it all.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. I do, however, own the plot for this story.

Warning(s): Maybe a bit OCCness. I try to stick to their personalities as much as I can. Hopefully it's not poorly underdone.

Author's note: Hi! Long time, no see. Life has been hectic, as you may have noticed through my serious lack of presence. I will try to update frequently, this story has been written out and it's just a matter of tweaking the chapters a little here and there before I post them. I don't know how long the story will be but I'm not thinking of making it an extended deal. I hope it entertains you and that it is worth your time!

Also, I opened up a Photobucket account so you could see the houses and the rooms described in this story. I know absolutely nothing about houses in general and english isn't my first language so I needed a little help for the descriptions. I feel like I might have gotten a little carried away with the technical stuff so just in case you can't exactly visualize what I'm talking about, you can go to my Photobucket account instead and see. Go to my profile (FFNet didn't let me paste the address here) and instructions are there. More pictures will be uploaded as the story goes down.

Alright. On with the story!

On Top of the World

"Being somebody doesn't make you anybody, anyway."

- GMC.

"...here is what's happening on ESPN J Sports today: All-Star soccer sensation Ichigo Kurosaki has renewed his contract with the Goteijūsantai F.C. Japan's Professional Football League top scorer has signed for six years and will be earning a net salary of 30 million dollars. Kurosaki led the league last year with 28 goals and 8 assists in 27 appearances. He is the only player to score three goals in at least 9 of the J-League's 16 regular season matches. He also holds the record for most goals scored in the championship cup with 5. The league's Player of the Year and one of owner Yamamoto Genryuusai's finer acquisitions—"

Ichigo Kurosaki reached for the remote on the coffee table before him and turned off the 119 inch plasma TV mounted on the wall of his gigantic living room. He leaned back on the couch to rest his head on the upper part of it, letting out a long abated breath as he stared at the ceiling, grateful for the quiet in both his house and his mind.

Ever since he had gone pro, his life had been nothing but an ongoing spectacle. Being the face behind the top ten major soccer brands in the world, people knew who he was everywhere he went, in fact, there were very few souls in Japan that didn't know his face what with it being plastered and magnified in just about every far-reaching billboard around Tokyo. He was in the cover of local newspapers and Japanese entertainment magazines all year round, TV stations aired his ads around the clock. Having become Japan's most marketable athlete, his commercial potential was exploited in any and every way his sponsors believed his commercial potential could be exploited.

There was memorabilia to his name that sold well into the billions, everything from the club's black jersey shirt with white lettering and embroidery that had his last name and his number on the back to autographed posters of his face; they all sold out. Hardcore fans enjoyed making a spectacle of themselves, wearing the shirts to the games, some even dyed their hair orange and would keep it that color from the beginning of season to the end. They celebrated big whenever he scored, he could hear the entire stadium chanting his name in unison. He liked to become part of the show, celebrating along with them until they went wild with praise and his whole body erupted in goosebumps. It was intense.

Then came life outside the stadium.

With fame he knew that being publicly acknowledged just came with the territory. From the moment he stepped out of his house, herds of fangirls and paparazzi alike followed him as one, they tripped over themselves just to snap a picture of him while he tried to carry on with his very mundane, everyday tasks. He could be grocery shopping or pumping gas and they were drawn to him like moths to a lamplight. He had invested in a contemporary 11,000 square feet house located in a luxury gated community far from downtown Tokyo just to stay away from it all. With clean lines and double-bolted ceilings, it stood perched on a hill and had an open concept layout with floor-to-ceiling glass all around. The house featured four king-sized bedrooms and five bathrooms, five living areas including an outdoor one, a chef style kitchen, a cinema, a gym with a steam room right next to it, a wet bar on the pool deck and a four-car parking space.

Lately, it had become more like his fortress.

While sometimes he couldn't help but feel like a wild animal locked in a cage because of the amount of time he found himself forced to spend in it on his own, most times he couldn't say he minded. His chosen "career" kept his entire life under constant scrutiny, up to the point where even his family and his friends got caught in the media and rabid groupie crossfire frenzy and it left him wanting to do nothing more than isolate himself from everyone and everything, if only for a little self-preservation. It still puzzled him, the way he seemed to have earned this stature just for simply being good at what he loved to do with a passion. He wondered what would happen when he no longer was. People had an image of him that they loved to worship and yet he knew without needing any sort of introspection that he didn't even come close to being who they thought he was.

Ichigo spent his better days in solitude so those he cared about didn't have to put up with the attention circus that he had to go through. He avoided relationships more often now because he was privy to the sort of intrusion where who he dated became the main topic of discussion for major entertainment channels and gossip magazines and he hated it. Not everybody understood how his world worked and while he had no control whatsoever over what paparazzi and the press decided to go public with, there was so much the person that chose to be with him could stand before she reached her boiling point. He had known, from the moment he had chosen soccer as a career, that being with someone would be difficult because of what they would be subjected to. Every time he entered a relationship, he came out feeling responsible for his chosen partner's misery and he was sick of it.

His phone went off on the end table next to the couch, interrupting his train of thought. He grabbed the device and unlocked it, the screen rapidly showing the text message he had received:

Rukia:

On my way over. Leave the door open.

Ichigo sighed. He had been best friends with Rukia since childhood and at this point in their lives he could tell when something was wrong without her having to spell it out to him. She had been fighting with her boyfriend of two years a lot lately, when it wasn't one thing, it was another and she always ended up staying over at his-Ichigo's place the times they couldn't kiss and make up about it. Ichigo had spent time with the guy, enough that he could say the guy had earned his approval, but sometimes Rukia could be far more complicated to deal with than she initially let on.

Rukia Kuchiki had been a lot of firsts in his life. His first friend, his first crush, his first kiss...he could go as far as saying that she had been his first love. When his mother had died, she had been the only one to see him shed tears of sorrow and also the one to teach him that there was no shame but strength in that. She had stayed when he had gone through his awkward rebellious phase years afterwards. He couldn't remember much, just feeling constantly angry enough that he wanted to beat the shit out anyone and anything. It had been Rukia who had helped him understand that the world owed him nothing so he might as well get over it. She had soothed his anger away and he had known then that whatever path his life was to take, he would walk it with her by his side.

It had come as a shock to their circle of friends and family when he had told them that he thought his last girlfriend, Mashiro, was "the one" not because they disapproved of the girl (though he had his suspicions) but because they had always assumed that he and Rukia would end up together since they were practically meant for each other. They fought like a married couple and flirted like first loves. They protected each other like brother and sister, it had always been the kind of relationship they shared.

He touched on the reply button and typed back.

Ichigo:

It's open. Lock the door on your way in.

It was a good twenty minutes before Rukia came strolling through the door, locking it behind her as she had been instructed. She found Ichigo in the same position she always found him in whenever she came over announced: passed out on the couch in front of the TV. She smiled at the sight before making her way to his bedroom. The house's 4 bedroom suites were all themed differently, according to their different designers. They didn't know much of Japanese designer Tensa Zangetsu but Ichigo had once met the guy in a charity event and had told her that he was a badass-looking hipster with mid-length hair and one of those broody attitudes that wore all dark clothes. Quite frankly, she couldn't deny that someone more or less like that had come to mind when she had first seen the bedroom design.

The room had black granite walls and black hardwood floors. The night tables and the dresser were also black wood but the king-sized bed frame was a rich and vibrant red color all the way to the quilted, upholstered headboard with black sheets and a black comforter to contrast. Modern figures stood atop both the dresser and one of the night-tables, the other one crowded with his iPod-dock alarm clock. On the floor was a red plush carpet that matched the color of the bed frame impeccably and right above his bed was a frame in which hung a sleek sword, black all the way to the hilt, with a red background that made perfect contrast.

When Ichigo had first moved in, it had been Rukia who had initially liked this room for him the best because it seemed to match Ichigo's personality and taste perfectly. Ichigo had felt a deep affinity to it the moment he had walked inside the bedroom and saw the black and red color contrast and the sword hung on the frame against the wall right above the bed that only ascertained his feel for it. Coquelicot was his favorite color, a brilliant poppy red hue and it seemed to be the exact type of red that the designer of the room had used for this room. Tensa Zangetsu seemed to understand a piece of Ichigo's soul without never really having intended to.

Rukia made her way to the walk-in closet that was more the size of a standard room in a regular house and was also made out of black granite walls but with plush red carpeting and red wardrobes to match. She looked through all of his designer suits and past his crisp, laundered dress shirts, getting to his designer shirts and jeans collection—all of these gifts from different couturiers for whom Ichigo had been required to work as makeshift model sometimes—and found one of Ichigo's older jersey shirts to sleep in right at the back. Because of her tiny and slim figure, what Ichigo regularly used as shirts could fit Rukia as sleep shirts. She undressed to her underwear and pulled on the jersey shirt, the shirt's sleeves reaching down to her elbows and the rims reaching down to the middle of her thighs. She then made her way to the living room where Ichigo was sprawled out.

Ichigo lay on his side, arms loosely wrapped around one of the couch's decorative pillows and Rukia couldn't remember a time he had looked more like the boy she had met ages ago, back when they were still just children. She ran her fingers through wild spikes of unruly orange hair and felt him slightly shift under the light caress before he gave her a heavy-lidded stare.

"Hey," she whispered and he smiled a little before frowning at her.

"Stop wearing my shirts, stupid," he mumbled sleepily, fixing his position on the couch and making room for her.

"Oh hush little berry," Rukia used her given pet name for him, laying beside him on her stomach and propping the upper half of her body on her elbows. "They look good on me," she bragged.

"They don't," Ichigo yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he rolled onto his back. "You gonna tell me what happened or you wanna go to bed?" he asked without preamble.

Rukia sighed, big amethyst eyes drooping gloomily. "Ashido...broke up with me," she stated, plain and simple.

Ichigo was suddenly wide awake. "Oh," he stared at her probingly and she played with her fingers to avoid his questioning gaze. "You okay?" he asked and she nodded, rolling on her side with her back to him.

"Just...hold me," she muttered and Ichigo stopped, cheeks growing warm with a healthy blush. They had known each other long enough by now to feel comfortable with displays of affection such as these, only it never took long for Ichigo's bashful nature to kick in, even if it was Rukia who was at the receiving end of such affections.

"Please?" Rukia asked in that small and familiar tone that both of them knew would get her just about anything from him.

Ichigo rolled his eyes, the customary scowl on his face tightening as he lowered himself and wrapped an arm around her small waist, pulling her close to his chest. They lay entangled in each other's arms and legs, each other's warmth and comfort, for what felt like hours before Ichigo decided to speak again.

"I broke things off with Mashiro," he said.

In retrospect, it wasn't like his year and a half relationship with Mashiro had been all bad. She'd been supportive of his career and had been good to him despite everything that happened outside of their relationship. Ichigo had just grown tired of fighting with her over things he couldn't change, not unless he quit what he loved to do with a passion to be with her. He figured he would rather be with someone that wanted to be part of his world despite the bad in it than with someone that wanted him to leave his world behind to become a part of theirs.

"Good," Rukia said, turning over in his arms so they could face each other. "She wasn't good for you," she added and Ichigo sighed.

Mashiro and Rukia had never really gotten along but Rukia had never been the type to ask him not to date a girl just because there was something she didn't like about her which was more than he could say about Mashiro, who'd always felt uncomfortable around Rukia because of how close she and Ichigo seemed to be. Rukia let Ichigo call the shots in this department and waited for him to realize on his own that it wasn't right before she said or did anything.

"I thought it could work ya know?" he said with a grimace.

Rukia cupped his face in her small hand and rubbed his cheek with her thumb, giving him a sympathetic smile.

Ichigo had always been the type of guy that would rather be in a relationship, despite his popularity providing for a more licentious way of life. Girls all over the world died to be with him and yet Rukia could never figure out why he picked girls like Mashiro. Maybe she was a bit overprotective where her friend was concerned but Rukia could always tell that they weren't good enough for him. They didn't really see him, only saw the soccer player in him and Ichigo deserved better than that. He deserved someone that could understand him when he himself couldn't, someone that could blend into his world and become part of it because they wanted to and not because he needed them to, someone that could devote themselves to him as he devoted himself to them, someone that could make him smile often and keep him where the light was.

"Let's play something," she proposed and Ichigo arched a brow.

"You sure?" he asked. Playing video games was usually what they resorted to whenever one of them was feeling down. It brought forth their extremely competitive streaks and while they resorted to cheap shots in order to win most times, it helped clear their heads when they needed it most.

Rukia gave him a cocky half-grin. "What? You scared?" she teased and Ichigo snorted derisively.

"Please," he said confident.

"Fine then," Rukia said. "You and me. Mario Kart."

Half an hour later, they were through with Delfino Square and Toad Standard Bike S and Mario Bike Mach. Rukia self-proclaimed herself the official victor of the race, despite Ichigo calling her a cheat for covering his eyes with a hand and elbowing him on the ribs once they reached the final lap to earn herself a much needed upper-hand. They had settled on the couch much like they had been before, both of them on their side and Rukia in between his arms with her back pressed against his chest.

"You okay?" she asked, eyes already closed and Ichigo knew she was asking about the whole breakup thing.

"I'm fine," he mumbled, breathing in and taking in her scent. "You?"

"I..." she yawned. "I will be."

If Ichigo were honest with himself, maybe he had reached a point in his life where keeping Rukia in his life was more important than any romantic feelings he might have for her. It was the reason he was leaving things unsaid. Things like maybe he consciously picked all of the relationships that he had been in wrong and deliberately made no effort for them not to end once he realized they were going nowhere. Because the truth of the matter was there would forever be one thing that Ichigo would not be able change, even if he wanted to: he was and always would be head over heels in love with Rukia.

The way he saw it, though, if things went south while in a relationship with Rukia, he wouldn't just be losing another girlfriend but probably the person that he valued the most in his life. So long as she's happy, I'll be fine he thought, because isn't that what you want when you genuinely love someone? For them to be happy even if it wasn't you who was making them happy? But there was a part of him that knew he really didn't mean that. It was the same part of him that would always have a boyish crush on her, that got jealous when she went out with no-good men, that would always want to go to great lengths to make her smile and that would always need her when his world was dark.

He was fooling nobody but himself, he knew that...

End of Chapter 1. Okay, so that's chapter one for you. My intros are always shorter for some reason but the chapters are going to be more or less this length. Thank you for reading and I hope you liked it!

Dom.