Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, because I'm not Kubo-sensei. The bleach I own keeps my whites white.

Note: Please read It Had Better Be Tonight before this, otherwise Rukia's background won't make sense.

Rukia remembered her first meeting with Kurosaki Ichigo with surprising clarity. Really, they shouldn't have met at all. UCLA had an undergraduate population of over 25,000 students divided between two campuses. As a dance major, she lived and studied on the North Campus, home to the arts, humanities, social sciences, and so on. Ichigo, as a med student, lived and worked on the South Campus – home to the UCLA Medical Center, among other things. Their paths wouldn't have crossed under normal circumstances.

But she'd gone to the Med Center for a quick check-up and was in and out. She had other things to do – she was a junior now and almost finished with her college career. The possibilities were endless. She could go on to grad school, be a teacher, try and earn work as a dancer-

She could also walk right into traffic.

Strong hands wrapped around her shoulders, jerking her from the street and back onto the sidewalk. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she and her savior barked simultaneously.

Rukia spun around and looked up – and up – and up. She hated being short. Her adoptive parents assured her that in Japan, her height was probably closer to the norm. But here in the U.S., where most kids grew as tall and fast as the corn the Midwest was famous for, she was a shrimp. One would think she was used to it by now.

Her savior sported bright orange hair and a scowl. "Watch where you're going next time, huh?" he demanded.

"I was!" she snapped back.

He folded his arms and glared down at her. "Sure you were. That's why you tried to cross an intersection where the light was clearly green."

Rukia darted a glance at the street, momentarily at a loss for words. "It isn't now," she said, turning on her heel to cross. "Thanks," she tossed over her shoulder.

"Wow, you really sound like you mean it." His voice was dry.

"Are you following me?"

One orange eyebrow arched upwards. "I needed to cross too. You should be glad I did, otherwise you'd be a pancake right now."

She gritted her teeth. As if she needed to be reminded. "I already thanked you for it," she said crossly as they reached the other side. "And now, I'm leaving." She stormed away, smarting with mingled embarrassment and ire. "Infuriating wretch," she muttered. She hoped to the high heavens that she would never, ever see him again.

Ichigo was thinking the same thing as he watched the petite spitfire stomp away. "Baka onna."

Needless to say, neither of them was happy to find out they both volunteered at Second Life Dance Studio.

"What the hell are you doing here?" they burst out.

"I volunteer here!" Rukia said indignantly. "Are you stalking me?"

"Stalking you? As if I'd stoop that low! If anything, you're stalking me!"

"Why you-"

"Yare, yare." Urahara Kisuke walked up to them, hiding a grin behind his ever-present fan. "Strawberry-kun, Rukia-chan, you know each other?"

Ichigo's eyebrow twitched. "Her, Hat-and-Clogs? Hardly. I saved her once and now she follows me everywhere." Indeed, this wasn't their first meeting after the incident in front of the hospital. Since then, they'd seen each other all over campus – cafés, libraries, and even on strolls through Bruin Walk.

"You." Rukia spluttered with rage. "I follow you? I-"

"While I'm delighted you're friends, might I remind you two that I have a studio to run and students to teach?" Urahara said mildly, still grinning. "I asked you both here now instead of at your usual times because I need more help."

Rukia blushed. She would endure working with the idiot because she had to work with Urahara Kisuke. She couldn't afford to lose the guidance of one of the world's best ballroom dancers, not when she had a senior project to start thinking about. "Yes, Kisuke."

Ichigo just rolled his eyes. "Fine."

Rukia shook her head. That had been a year ago. Since then, she and Ichigo had resigned themselves to seeing each other and called a truce. This of course did not stop them from nagging and picking at each other – that just seemed to be the basis of their strange relationship. She'd never felt as close to anyone as she was with Ichigo. Over time, he just seemed to slide into her life like he'd always been there.

"Oi." The man in question plopped down next to her, slurping up a cup of ramen. "Whaddya doing?"

"Just…reminiscing," she said. She looked at his food. "Is that all you're eating for lunch? That's not enough-"

"Ha! Says the girl who considers a slice of cake a complete meal!" He jabbed his chopsticks in her direction as she opened her mouth to argue. "And talk in Japanese, will you? You're not going to learn if you don't speak it."

"Hai." Her brow furrowed as she began puzzling out the syntax in her head. "Byakuya-nii-san would be pleased if I spoke well, wouldn't he?" she asked in Japanese.

"I'm sure he'd appreciate the effort," he replied. "And try saying it this way…"

Ten minutes later they were still holding a slow, halting dialogue when Urahara poked his head into the small staff room. "Strawberry-kun, Rukia-chan, I've finished choreographing the jive for tomorrow. I'd like to see you two try it."

"Right away, Kisuke," Rukia said in Japanese. Ichigo hit the back of her head.

"Wrong! You should be using an honorific when you talk to him. It ain't polite. Urahara-sensei or something."

"Nonsense, Strawberry-kun!" The older man said cheerfully. "Rukia-chan is used to addressing others that way. Besides I've never been one for formality."

"He's right!" Rukia scowled up at her friend. "Like you're one to talk anyway, baka. You barely use honorifics!"

The argument would have continued, but Urahara, who was used to the two's antics by now, simply shoved a hand into both of their backs and propelled them into the studio. "Let's jive!"

The jive was Rukia's favorite ballroom dance. It was fun, fast, and quirky – exactly like her. It was bouncy and energetic and so incredibly American with its kicks and spins. When she danced the jive, she couldn't keep a huge, idiotic grin off her face. She sort of got a vindictive pleasure seeing Ichigo struggle through it. Too many things came easily to that boy, she thought. It was good for him to have a peg or two knocked off every once in a while.

"-all right, and into the Miami special….Strawberry-kun, keep your knees flexed and underneath you at all times, please!"

The orange-haired man was currently slightly red in the face and breathing heavily.

"Strawberry-kun, you must look effortless! The audience can't know how hard it is!"

"Too much for you to handle, Ichigo?" Rukia taunted, knowing full well it would spur him on. Sure enough, Ichigo huffed and glared, but his footwork improved and he ceased looking so red in the face. They ran through the routine five more times before Urahara was satisfied.

"Very good!" he said with approval. "I think that's more than enough for today, don't you think? The children should be here in thirty minutes, so-"

Slow clapping brought everyone's attention to the front of the studio. A familiar, lanky figure stood there, the light glinting off his metal spectacles.

"Uryuu-san!" Rukia said with delight. Over the past year, she'd gotten to know Ichigo's roommate pretty well. She enjoyed his dry sense of humor – especially the way he managed to get Ichigo riled up in almost no time at all. They had gone to high school together in Japan and neither had found it amusing that they had both been accepted to UCLA for med school. Nonetheless, they were roommates.

"Hello, Rukia-san." He smiled slightly at her.

"Oi, Ishida, what the hell are you doing here?"

"It's nice to see you too, Kurosaki." The dark-haired man pushed his glasses up. "I've just been wondering where you've been disappearing to."

"Well now you know, so you can disappear," Ichigo growled, smarting with embarrassment. Rukia snickered, knowing full well what he was thinking. He glared at her.

"Strawberry-kun!" Urahara sang, deciding to step in. Ichigo grimaced, catching Ishida's smirk. "Care to introduce your friend?"

"We're not friends," the two said at the same time, glaring at each other. Rivals, yes – the two were constantly battling for the top spot in their class. Roommates, yes. Friends – not really. They respected each other and that was that.

Rukia rolled her eyes. Men: they protested too much. She was sure they liked each other deep down, but they would never admit it. "Ishida Uryuu, this is Urahara Kisuke, the owner of the studio. Do you dance, Uryuu-san?" she asked curiously.

"I-" Ishida began, only to be interrupted by Ichigo.

"Him? Why would he-"

"How many times do I have to tell you not to assume things, Kurosaki?" Ishida ran a hand over an imaginary wrinkle on his slacks.

"Tch. Prove it."

Ishida raised an eyebrow. "All right." He walked over to Rukia and offered her a hand. Bewildered, she took it and he swept her off into a perfect Viennese waltz, much to Ichigo's chagrin and Urahara's amusement.

"How wonderful," the blond man commented as the pair stopped twirling about the dance floor. "Ishida-kun – may I call you Ishida-kun? – are you available to volunteer at my studio? I am in dire need of men with your talent."

"It would be my pleasure, Urahara-san."

Ichigo choked. "B-but-!"

Rukia stomped hard on his foot. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," she hissed. "If Uryuu-san volunteers, that means less time for us."

"I would hardly call him a gift horse," was the scathing reply. "And who's he going to partner with?" he said loudly. "I dance with Rukia."

Ishida rolled his eyes. "Charming. I see you still haven't progressed past the third grade. Weren't you ever taught to share? No matter. I'll just ask Inoue-san."

"Inoue? Does she even know how to dance?"

"Perhaps if you hadn't skipped gym so much in high school you would have known that we learned how to ballroom dance. Inoue-san is an excellent dancer."

Only Rukia caught the slight flush on the man's cheeks at the mention of Inoue Orihime. During Ichigo's birthday she'd managed to get him spectacularly drunk. In between warbling 80s power ballads, he'd spilled the beans of a complicated love triangle. Inoue Orihime had gone to high school with him and Ichigo. She'd loved Ichigo for as long as he could remember and Ishida had loved her for just as long. When Ichigo had been accepted to UCLA, Orihime followed him, as Ishida followed her.

Rukia's heart ached for the two of them. Orihime had become one of her friends as well. The girl was a paragon of virtue, if not a little strange. But Ichigo was completely oblivious to her feelings, as much as she was to Ishida's. It was a vicious cycle.

"By all means!" Urahara was saying. "The more the merrier!"

And so, Ishida Uryuu and Inoue Orihime were added to the Second Life family.

Her cell phone rang shrilly. Frowning, she turned the heat down on the stove. "Hello?"

"Rukia."

She would have tripped if she weren't standing stock-still. "Byakuya-nii-san!"

"How are you?" Even over the phone, her brother-in-law sounded stiff, but she could hear the warm tinge in his voice. Even after only a few months, she knew that tone of voice was reserved for very few people.

"I'm fine, how are you?" she exclaimed, glancing at the clock. "Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"I'm not at work right now."

"Oh?" She went back to her pasta, stirring it carefully. "Are you traveling, then?"

"So it would seem." He paused. "I'm standing outside your door."

Rukia dropped the spoon in the pasta water. "Eh?"

"Would you like to let me in?" Now he really sounded amused. Rukia ran for the door.

Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting at her kitchen table, eating spaghetti. Rukia stared at her brother-in-law with abject horror as he oh-so-methodically swirled the perfect amount of noodles using fork and spoon (who still did that? she wondered) before placing it in his mouth. He didn't slurp or get spaghetti sauce everywhere. "I'm sorry I don't have anything better," she blurted.

Byakuya dabbed at the (spotless) corner of his mouth with a napkin. "It's quite all right, Rukia. You are a good cook."

She blushed, highly gratified. "Arigato, Byakuya-nii-san." She glanced at him curiously, idly twirling her spaghetti with her fork. "You're here on a business trip?"

"Hai. All the work is taken care of and I decided to see how you were." He cleared his throat. "How is your senior year?"

"It's so much fun! I'm so grateful for Kisuke's help. With his tutelage, my senior dance recital will be a success, I know it." She quickly swallowed a bite of spaghetti and grinned at him. "You'll come, right Byakuya-nii-san? It's three months away, so that should give you plenty of time to plan."

He nodded. "Of course." There was a slight pause. "Have you thought about what you're doing after you graduate, Rukia?"

She nearly choked on a piece of garlic bread. "Ah…somewhat." She smiled, embarrassed and uncomfortable. Sometimes, talking to her brother-in-law was like talking to her advisor. "I don't really want to go to grad school. I think I would be happy working in a dance studio because I love teaching. Kisuke said that he was willing to offer me a job at Second Life."

"And you will be happy doing this?"

"Ye-es?" she ventured cautiously, wondering what he was getting at.

Byakuya resumed eating. "Good."

She relaxed slightly. She'd been afraid that he was going to criticize her career choice. Even though she'd only known him for a few months now, she truly cared for his opinion.

"I have…a proposition for you, Rukia."

"A proposition?" she echoed.

"Yes. Would you…perhaps consent to coming to live in Japan?"

Her fork clattered to her plate. "Eh?" She wasn't expecting that.

Her brother-in-law continued eating placidly, as though he had only asked her to pass the salt. "I think it's time you knew your country and the places that your sister called home."

"Hisana?"

His eyes shuttered briefly, as they always did when someone mentioned his late wife. "Yes."

"Ah…where would I stay?" she said, bewildered.

"As my sister, you could stay with me," he offered stiffly. "I would…like it if we could know each other better."

Her heart melted a little bit. "That sounds wonderful, Byakuya-nii-san. I would love to go to Japan and really get to know you." She took a deep breath. "But I don't want to live off your charity. I mean, I can't be a tourist for however long I'm there." She smiled. "My parents taught me the value of hard work, Byakuya-nii-san. I hope you understand that."

"You do not wish to be in my debt," he said slowly. "Is that your only objection?"

"Well, duration is another thing," she said thoughtfully. "I don't know if I could stay indefinitely."

"Let us say a year or two. Would that be agreeable?"

"That would be wonderful. I've never been abroad. But still-"

"If it is a question of a job, you needn't worry, Rukia. I can get you a job at the 8/13 studio."

"8/13?" Her eyes went round. "Y-you mean Kyouraku Shunsui and Ukitake Jyuushiro's studio? Where Yoruichi-san works?"

Byakuya nodded, sensing a change of heart. "Yes. Kyouraku's wife has a toddler and another dancer, Matsumoto-san-"

"Matsumoto Rangiku?" Rukia echoed, awed. "She's won Blackpool in both Standard and Latin!"

"Indeed she has. She is due to deliver her child in a few months. The studio will need teachers. I'm sure they will appreciate your style, and you have many dancers you can learn from." He smiled slightly, taking in her awestruck expression. "Is this agreeable to you?"

"I-I-" It was too much to take in at once. This was certainly the opportunity of a lifetime, to go to the 8/13 studio and train with such dancing legends. "I have to think about it, Byakuya-nii-san. This isn't a small thing that you've proposed…there are so many things to consider, so many things that I would leave behind." She looked at him, pleading. "I need time."

"I understand." He began eating again. "Now, tell me about this recital of yours."

"I'm off, Noelle!" Rukia bellowed to her roommate.

"Where're you going, Rukia?"

"Going to study with Ichigo." She pulled on her backpack. She'd seen Byakuya off at the airport that morning with a promise that she would continue to think on his proposal. However, thinking about it right now made her head hurt. She needed to get some studying done, so that was a welcome distraction.

"Oh really?" The pretty brunette raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you're not dating him?"

Rukia tripped over a chair. "No! Why?"

"Oh, I don't know, it's just that you've known this boy, what, a year now? You're with him all the time." She grinned. "Besides, I definitely sense a little something-something going on with you two."

"What are you talking about?" She was absolutely flabbergasted. This definitely wasn't something she needed right now. "We're just friends!"

"Uh-huh, where have I heard that before?" She began ticking items off on her fingers. "Item number one: you're constantly together. Item two: you argue like an old married couple. Item three: sometimes all you have to do is look at each other and you know what the other is thinking. Item four: he's ridiculously overprotective of you. Item five-"

"All of those things indicate a close friendship, Noelle!"

"Keep denying it all you want, Rukia!" she laughed. "Maybe you'll actually believe it!"

Rukia fumed all the way to the cozy little café that had become her favorite place to study. Noelle was wrong, she thought fiercely. Ichigo was just a friend, why didn't anyone believe her?

"Rukia-san, you look vexed."

The petite woman looked up. Ishida had fallen into step with her. "Uryuu-san! Are you coming to study with me and Ichigo?"

"No, I'm heading home for some rest. Is something wrong?"

She shook her head vigorously. "No, it's nothing."

"If it's nothing, why do you look so angry?"

"I…" Perhaps Uryuu-san would understand. "My roommate asked if Ichigo and I have 'something-something' going on."

He chuckled. "Oh, that."

"What do you mean, 'that?' Not you, too!"

"Yes, I too." Ishida sighed patiently. "I'm not sure if you know this, but Ichigo has very few friends-"

"What? No! What about those guys he-"

"Please don't interrupt me, Rukia-san." She clamped her mouth shut. "They are acquaintances, nothing more. In high school, he only had one true friend and closed himself off from all others. I've never seen him interact with anyone the way he interacts with you. He's more open. He smiles more-"

"Please, Ichigo doesn't smile."

"Be that as it may, you've changed him." Ishida glanced down at her. "Does that really sound like friendship to you, Rukia-san?"

"B-but…I don't think of him that way!"

They stopped in front of the café. "Are you sure about that, Rukia-san?" he asked gently. When she didn't answer, he shrugged. "I'll see you later."

Rukia let out a tiny scream of frustration and blushed when the passers-by stared at her in confusion. She hurried inside.

"Oi, Rukia." Ichigo waved at her from her usual corner. "I got your drink already."

"Thanks." She dropped her bag with a thud and settled gracelessly into the chair opposite him. Still scowling, she wrapped her fingers around the wide mug and brought it to her lips. Her eyebrows shot up. "How did you know-?" It was her favorite – rich hot chocolate with a shot of mint syrup to give it something special. They usually ordered their drinks separately.

He shrugged. "It's your favorite, ain't it?"

What was that supposed to mean? It wasn't like she knew that his favorite was one part espresso to one part water with only a lump of sugar – her mind came to a screeching halt. Okay, so she knew what his favorite coffee drink was. But was he blushing, just a little bit? "Y-yeah, it's my favorite," she stammered. "Let's study, shall we?" He grunted – his book on pharmaceutical drugs was already open.

She scrambled to get her Japanese textbook out, along with her pad of paper and fine-point pen. She had to practice writing kanji – her handwriting was atrocious. She lost herself in the intricate sweeps and dashes, forgetting for a moment the crazy direction her thoughts had been heading. The last thing she wanted to think about right now was her nonexistent relationship with Ichigo or her brother-in-law's offer.

A few minutes Ichigo glanced up from his book, needing a break. His gaze settled on Rukia, her tongue poking out a corner of her mouth as she painstakingly drew characters up and down the crisp white pad.

He allowed his lips to curve up softly as he watched her. It was amazing how everything seemed to settle into place after he met her. There was something comforting in their easy banter - even in their arguing. Was she disagreeable? Always. Annoying? Most definitely.

And yet he didn't care. It was almost scary how well she understood him. Sometimes he felt like she could take in all of him with that grey-violet stare. Whenever he doubted himself, she always seemed to know and would yell and poke and prod at him until he overcame it. She was, without a doubt, one of his truest friends.

Rukia looked up from her writing. The hairs on the back of her neck were prickling. "What?" she demanded absent-mindedly. "Do I have ink on my nose or something?"

"Nope," Ichigo replied easily. "Well, maybe." He pretended to peer into her face. "Sorry. It's just your face – I'm afraid we can't do anything about that. I can recommend a good plastic surgeon, though."

She flushed red. "Why you-!"

He stuck his tongue out at her and put on his earphones, laughing to himself as she spluttered across from him.

"Ooooh, you just wait, you damn strawberry," she growled. "You're lucky homework comes first, or I'd kill you now." She returned to her kanji.

Two hours later, they called it quits and headed to Second Life. "I've got some ideas for a jive routine that I want to try out," Rukia told him as they sat on the bus.

"I thought you're supposed to be choreographing for the kids, not yourself."

"Most of the program will be the kids," she agreed. "They will grade every part of their performance, believe me, but they will still expect some sort of solo piece."

"It ain't solo if you're dancing with me."

"Some sort of solo piece, pay attention! They know that solo choreography isn't my strength. That's why I need you."

"Che." He scowled. "I don't like the idea of dancing in front of an audience."

"Hey, if Karin could do it, so can you."

"Karin's a soccer star, she's used to an audience." He got up and followed her off the bus. "So, you looking forward to working full time at Second Life? You'll still be in town, close to everyone."

She'd almost forgotten about Japan. "Um…yeah. Right. About that…"

He raised an eyebrow. "Something on your mind?"

"Yeah." If anyone could help her figure this out, it would be Ichigo. "Byakuya-nii-san asked me if I wanted to live in Japan."

Ichigo felt like she had just kicked him in the head. "What?"

She laughed nervously. "I know, right? It came out of the blue."

"Y-y-you're not going, are you?" he spluttered. For some reason, the thought of her going away was almost frightening. He had just assumed that she would stay in L.A. forever, working at Second Life while he finished med school and went on to his residency.

"I…I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Panic made his voice hard. "Your family is here, your friends are here, your work is here…damn it, your life is here!"

"Byakuya-nii-san is my family, too!" she shot back. "I could work in Tokyo, too! He offered me a job at 8/13! Think about it, Ichigo! I could work with Kyouraku Shunsui and Ukitake Jyuushiro! They're legends!"

"But-"

Rukia continued on, voicing the thoughts she'd been churning over since the night before. "You told me yourself that I should know where I come from. This…this is an opportunity, Ichigo! I've never been outside of the U.S. and here is this amazing chance…I would be an idiot to give it up!"

Why did he have the overwhelming feeling like he was in a sinking boat? "Your family-"

She stomped her foot, frustrated. "They've had me for twenty-one years now, I think they can afford to let me go. It's not like they're losing me forever! It would be a year or two-"

"Rukia, they need you-"

"Byakuya-nii-san needs me too!" She'd never thought about that before, but it was true. Once he'd found her, it was like he had a purpose again, someone to take care of. More than anything else, he wanted her to go to Japan for him. And she wanted to be there for him because Hisana would have wanted it. Hell, she wanted it too – he was her brother, after all.

Ichigo grabbed her shoulders. "I need you!" he shouted.

They both froze. Rukia stared up at him, astonished. His eyes were positively smoldering, darkening to near black with their intensity. She couldn't move, couldn't talk, couldn't breathe. He was so unbelievably close to her – his proximity was making her skin tingle with something she couldn't name if her life depended on it.

But then he moved closer and she found her voice. "What are you doing?" she whispered.

Ichigo rocked back as if he'd been slapped. "The hell if I know," he snarled. "I gotta go."

"What? What the hell are you talking about? The recital-"

"I can't do it today, I'm sorry." Without another word, he turned and stalked away, just as Ishida and Orihime drove up.

"Hello Rukia-san!" Orihime sang.

"Where is Kurosaki going?" Ishida's mild comment was in stark contrast to his knowing gaze. He didn't miss a thing.

"Hell if I know," Rukia finally said, mustering a smile. "No matter. I guess I'll just have to work out some choreography with you two, is that all right?"

"Of course!" The three walked into the studio.

Three days later Ichigo was back in the studio, glaring helplessly at the wall.

"You want to talk about it?" Rukia asked warily.

"No," he bit off. He didn't want to even think about how close he'd been to strangling her and kissing her. The first instinct didn't bother him so much – he restrained himself from that urge at least three times a week. It was the second instinct that terrified him, as well as his unwitting confession.

He didn't want to need her, he reasoned, but for some godforsaken reason he did. She was his anchor. Even when she drove him insane she kept him sane. It didn't make a lick of sense, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Except, perhaps, bury his head in the sand and forget any of it ever happened.

"Fine." Rukia shifted uncomfortably. She didn't really want to talk about it either. She'd been so comfortable in the fact that they were friends and nothing more, even when other people didn't seem to believe it. But after the incident, she was no longer inclined to believe it. He had come so close to kissing her and she was scared witless because some tiny part of her had really wanted him to.

She would have been even more scared if she knew that it wasn't just a tiny part of her that wanted that. Now she understood what Noelle and Ishida were talking about. There was something between her and Ichigo, an issue that they both tiptoed around, ignoring as much as they could. But now it was out in the open.

"Let's dance then," she said, all business. "I'm going to teach you the routine I worked out with Uryuu-san so that you two can help teach the boys when they come in tomorrow."

"Fine. Let's go."

The next three months were just as horribly stilted. Rukia threw herself into the planning of her senior recital. She found that she thrived under the stress. The theme of the recital was 1930s-40s club dances: the Lindy Hop, swing, jitterbug, and jive. She choreographed all of them. The kids from Second Life were her featured dancers, with Uryuu-san, Orihime, and Ichigo as her fellow coaches. Kisuke was her advisor for the dance, the one she went to with questions in terms of choreography, formation, and presentation.

Ichigo disappeared under mounds and mounds of schoolwork. He was a med student, after all. In the past, he'd always made time for dancing and for Rukia, but now it was as though he barely had time for either of them. He came to Second Life only when he had to – nothing more and nothing less.

The situation was horrible. He missed her. She missed him. The easy routine and rapport that had built so quickly between them was gone due to the threat of her move and the sudden subsequent shift in their relationship. As the recital grew nearer, both grew increasingly on edge because it meant the time for a decision was coming closer.

Ishida tried his best to remedy the situation. "You're an imbecile," he told his roommate one night over dinner. "I've known that for years, Kurosaki, but never before have I truly been disappointed by that fact.

"The hell are you talking about, Ishida?" Ichigo groused, stabbing at his soba noodles.

"You know what I'm talking about. Rukia-san."

He went still. "Don't go there."

"I will." The lanky man pushed up his glasses. "You're afraid of losing her, but that fear has made you push her even farther away when you really should be pulling her closer and enjoying these last few months."

Ichigo jerked as if he'd been punched. "She's really going?" The subject was taboo for both of them, so they never discussed whether she'd made her decision or not.

"I didn't say that," was the cool reply. "You see, you don't even know. She very well could be staying and you're just acting like a fool."

"Just shut up."

"No." He put down his chopsticks very deliberately. "You're making me quite angry right now, Kurosaki. You have a chance with Rukia-san and you're not taking it. In fact, you're screwing everything up, quite spectacularly, I might add. So what if she moves away for a year or two? There are airplanes, phones, e-mail, Skype. If you want to be together-"

Ichigo shoved away from the table, the silverware clattering. "Now what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about how you're in love with Rukia-san."

"You go too far." He was shaking. "Don't talk to me anymore, Ishida." He stalked out.

"All right everyone, into costume," Rukia laughed as she began herding the excited, chattering kids towards the classrooms that had been transformed into dressing rooms. "Boys, go with Uryuu-san and Kisuke, girls with me and Orihime."

"Rukia-san, I am so excited," Orihime gushed as she began directing the girls towards their hangars and costumes. "We've been working for so long and now it's here!" She grinned. "You look wonderful."

Rukia smiled back. "Well, I had a great designer." This was not only a senior project for Rukia, but for Orihime as well. The fashion design major had taken it upon herself to design all of the 1930s-1940s era costumes for the recital. Her advisors would be sitting and judging tonight alongside Rukia's. "You are a genius with fabric and a sewing machine."

The redhead blushed. "I had some help. Ishida-kun is very good at sewing too!"

Rukia wore a black sequined halter dress that left her back bare. A jaunty white bow sat at her neck while oversized white buttons that marched down the front. The voluminous skirt flared out above her knees. The skirt was lined with lilac silk and she wore saddle shoe patterned heels. Long white gloves and finger waves completed the look.

There was a knock on the door. "Byakuya-nii-san! You made it!" Rukia stepped out into the hallway to give him a hug.

"I told you I would be here." His eyes warmed as he looked down at her. "You look wonderful."

"Thank you." She beamed. "Now quick, get a good seat! We'll be starting soon!"

"Don't worry, my companions are saving me a seat."

"Companions?"

His lips curved slightly. "You'll see later. Break a leg." And then, surprising both of them, he placed a kiss on her forehead.

Rukia's smile was brilliant. "Thank you, Byakuya-nii-san." And she disappeared back into the dressing room.

Standing in the hallway, Kuchiki Byakuya took in a slight breath. He had a Kurosaki to hunt down and kill.

In the boy's dressing room, Ichigo batted away Kisuke's hands. "I can tie a bowtie myself, Hat-and-Clogs," he said crossly.

"Of course, Strawberry-kun." Kisuke's grey eyes darted to the doorway. "I do believe there's someone who wants to talk to you."

"Urahara-san." Ichigo would know that smooth, cultured voice anywhere.

"Kuchiki-san." Kisuke offered the nobleman a short little bow.

"I would like to speak to Kurosaki Ichigo."

"By all means, take him." Ichigo scowled as the owner of Second Life slinked away.

Byakuya's voice was soft and cutting. "I should have you drawn and quartered, Kurosaki Ichigo. I would like a reason why I should not do so."

"I have no idea what you mean." Ichigo folded his arms and glared at him.

"You know what I mean, Kurosaki Ichigo. You are a smart man." When the orange-haired man said nothing, he continued. "You have made my sister very unhappy over the past few months. I will not tolerate that."

"How very brotherly of you." His sarcasm was cutting.

"I should think that you would understand the sentiment, considering you have two younger sisters of your own."

"So?"

If Byakuya were the type to grit his teeth, he would have been grinding them by now. As it was, his eyebrow only twitched slightly. "I wonder why you are hurting her with your inability to accept the fact that she might go away for a few years."

"Why should I care where she goes?" he muttered. "She's her own person, I ain't got a say in what she does."

"And you don't like it because you don't," Byakuya said, suddenly understanding. "You know very well my sister places a high value on your opinion, though I'd rather she didn't. You could tell her not to go."

"I have no right to." Ichigo closed his eyes. It was true, he really didn't. And he knew she respected his opinion, which was why he kept himself away from her. He wasn't entirely sure that he wouldn't end up begging for her to stay.

"You're right. You don't. But she expects your blessing either way and she cannot understand why you have not given it. It grieves her more that she has apparently lost your friendship. I suggest you remedy that right away."

"And if I don't?"

Byakuya adjusted his cuff links. "Then I will gut you, Kurosaki Ichigo, and happily. Good luck on your performance." He walked away.

Ichigo stared after him, completely poleaxed. "I'll be damned," he said.

"Curtain in five minutes!" Rukia yelled, coming down the hallway. "Everyone please assemble backstage!" She stopped in front of Ichigo and looked up at him. "Ah…are you ready?"

"Tch. Don't worry about me, I'll be dancing in circles around you." He glowered at her. "Got it?"

Violet eyes widened. Her Ichigo was back. "Hah! You wish!" She sailed past him into the wings as a stream of children began lining up. "All right everyone, let's get this show on the road!"

There were four dances overall, three for the kids. The first group was Lindy Hop, the second West Coast Swing (this was California, after all), and the third the Jitterbug. It had been a challenge in choreography for Rukia, making sure to showcase each dance perfectly, detailing every subtle difference despite the fact that all of them had common roots.

The last dance was her jive with Ichigo. She faced him across the stage, almost silly with relief. The kids had been flawless – now it was their turn. Orihime had done well on his costume. White pants, a white vest, and a black Oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up were topped off with a lilac bowtie and saddle shoes.

"I'd better see those circles, Ichigo," she challenged as the music started up. He just smirked.

Rock step. Chasse. Chasse. God, she loved the jive. She could feel the music reverberating through her entire body as she kicked and stepped and spun around him like some sort of insane dervish. The sheer thrill of the recital's success pounded through her veins, adding to the giant grin she had on her face. She'd never felt quite so alive.

And Ichigo was there with her every step of the way. It was as though the last few months had never happened. There was still that connection. Even though she'd been the one to come up with these steps, she instinctively knew which ways to go when he led her, responding to every subtle turn of the hand or grip of the fingers. He was spectacular, his knees flexed and kicking perfectly – and never once did he show the effort on his face.

And she loved him for it. She would have faltered in her steps but her body kept right on moving, ignoring the direction her thoughts were going. Oh gods, she loved him. She loved Kurosaki Ichigo. The knowledge fizzled through her like fine champagne, as warm and bubbly as the music that played in her ears.

When the music finally stopped, it was all she could do to keep herself upright as the curtains swept closed and the crowd got to their feet.

She jumped into his arms. "Thank you," she said breathlessly, burying her face in his neck. "Thank you."

"Nah. It was all you." He pulled back to get a proper look at her face.

His eyes were so warm and sunny, so perfectly amber, that every single thought flew right out of her head. She blurted out the first thing she could think of. "I'm going to Tokyo."

She could have kicked herself, watching the way the light faded from his eyes. "I know," he said. His gaze sharpened and focused, as though he were making a decision. Suddenly, his lips were on hers.

It was as though something had been ignited in both of them. The kiss was like the jive they just danced – bright, dazzling, dizzying, and fast. Rukia wrapped herself as tight as she could around him, twining her legs around his hips as her gloved fingers dove into his hair. Anything – anything - to keep his lips on hers. Her heartbeat was erratic, her breathing ragged. It was like drowning in sunlight.

It was over as quickly as it began. Rukia's feet hit the floor with a hard thud. She was so disoriented from the sensory overload that all she could see were the swirling emotions in his eyes. Anger, shock, resignation, and something else she could not name. "Go," he said raggedly, before he turned and disappeared into the wings.

"Ichigo!" Before she could run after him, the kids swarmed her and the curtains opened.

It was all she could do to smile and wave and bow along with her little charges. The congratulations were profuse, especially from her advisors. Her A was almost certain.

"Rukia." She turned.

"Byakuya-nii-san!"

Her brother handed her a bouquet of white roses and hugged her. "I am proud of you."

She wrapped her arms around him, overwhelmed. "Thank you, Byakuya-nii-san."

He glanced over her shoulder. "There are some people who would like to congratulate you."

"Rukia-chan!" The petite woman found herself swept into a bear hug.

"Yoruichi-san! I can't believe you're here!"

"Please, as if I would miss this!" She stepped back and slipped her hand into Kisuke's. The Second Life studio owner winked at her.

"My congratulations, Rukia-chan. I knew you could do it." Rukia could only beam.

Yoruichi cleared her throat. "Ahem. May I present Kyouraku Shunsui and Ukitake Jyuushiro?"

Rukia's eyes went round as the two ballroom legends stepped into her field of vision. "I-It's an honor-" she stammered.

"Nonsense, the honor is all ours!" Shunsui boomed happily. "The dances had spirit, fire, life-!"

"Please forgive Shunsui, sometimes he thinks he's still judging." Ukitake Jyuushiro shook her hand, a kind smile on his face. "What he means to say is that we are so very excited to have you at our studio."

"Thank you so much!" She could barely talk through the stars in her eyes.

"Rukia-san!" Orihime threw her arms around her. "Rukia-san that was wonderful!"

"Congratulations on a success, Rukia-san," Ishida said, offering her a hug as well.

"I couldn't have done it without you two," she said happily. "But…where is Ichigo?"

Ishida looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, Rukia-san, I have no idea."

"Oh." Her face fell. When she looked up again, her smile was overly bright. "We need to go out and celebrate!"

Byakuya's expression darkened. "I'm going to kill him," he said under his breath.

After the recital, finals and graduation seemed to come and go in one breath. All of her arrangements for the move to Tokyo were arranged by Byakuya, from her work visa to her lodgings. All she had to worry about was adjusting.

Not once in all this time had she seen Ichigo. Even Ishida hadn't seen him in the mad scramble that was finals week. It was as though he'd disappeared into thin air.

It hurt. It truly hurt, especially because she really did love the goddamn strawberry. She didn't want to leave without telling him. She also wanted to know if he felt the same. True, he'd kissed her – but what did that mean? Was it his way of saying goodbye since he'd told her to go? If it was goodbye, was it permanent or temporary?

She smiled wanly at the agent at the check-in counter. "Hi."

"Damn it," Ishida cursed, several yards away. "Answer the phone, Kurosaki!" Like it had so many times over the past few weeks, it went straight to voicemail. "Your obstinacy is most infuriating, Kurosaki," he snapped. "We are all at the airport to see Rukia-san off, but where are you? Think about it! Do you really want her to go without knowing how you feel?"

He felt a small hand on his arm. "Did you get him, Ishida-kun?"

"Inoue-san." He shook his head. "No."

"It's all right, I know he's not coming." The two spun around to find Rukia behind them, smiling sadly.

"Where is that moron?" Ishida wondered.

The moron was currently aboard an LAX shuttle, praying that he wasn't too late. He'd spent the last four hours driving like a madman out of Tijuana. Normally, that kind of drive only took about two hours, but the traffic had been infernal.

Why was he reenacting the cheesy end to some ridiculous chick flick? It was obvious.

Because he needed Rukia.

The line that had inadvertently slipped out of him so many weeks ago had come to haunt him in the weeks since the recital. He hadn't been prepared for that knowledge. The icing on the cake was when Ishida said that he loved her.

The thing was, he did love her.

He ran from those feelings the moment he thought she was going away. No, not just going away, but also leaving him.

Oh, he knew that last thought wasn't logical. The rational part of him knew that it wasn't permanent and that they could visit each other, chat on the Internet, or talk on the phone.

But the part of him that wasn't rational, the part that was all tangled up in her panicked. It was a major change, an upset in the equilibrium that had made him happy for the past year. Ichigo didn't like change. That was why he refused to consider the fact that his feelings for her had changed.

Admitting to his feelings meant admitting that she was leaving. If she stayed, he could possibly pretend that everything was the way it was before.

So he left. After finals, he fled to Tijuana. Sado had family there and said he was welcome at any time. The change of pace was…unsettling. After a few days he realized that running away solved nothing. Nothing could be the way it was before. Rukia was still leaving and he still had all of these crazy feelings. Really, that only left one thing to do.

He had to tell her that he did love her and that he did need her and that he would wait for her to come back. That was all he could do. He had to stop being an idiot.

"Come on, go faster," he mumbled.

"Come, Rukia. The security line is long." Byakuya nodded at her parents.

"Take care of our girl," Colin O'Shaughnessy said, dabbing at the moisture in his eyes. Anna O'Shaughnessy was hugging Rukia once more.

Byakuya bowed slightly. "I will. You are coming for Christmas?"

"We wouldn't miss it."

"Ma, let me go!" Rukia laughed. She turned to beam at her two friends. "Take care, you two. I'm going to miss you." She hugged them both, picked up her bag, and followed after her brother.

"Goodbye, Rukia-san! Have a good flight!" Orihime was crying.

"That idiot," Ishida repeated as he watched them make their way towards security.

"Oi, Rukia!" An orange blur whizzed by him.

Rukia turned, her eyes going round. Her bag clattered to the ground. "Ichigo?" She couldn't believe her eyes.

"Yeah," he managed, out of breath. He was unshaven, his hair messy and sticking out every which way. "It's me."

"You actually agreed with me for once. We should celebrate."

He smirked, his honey-colored eyes going soft. "Nah. I was only confirming your observation."

"That's the same thing, baka!" Her grin almost split her face. She was deliriously happy that he was there. It showed that he cared, after all. "You're actually trying to make me laugh, aren't you?"

"Maybe." He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. "It won't happen again."

She looked at him, really looked at him, and felt like she was already soaring above the clouds. "You're smiling." Not a smirk, a genuine expression of happiness that lifted his lips and lit up his eyes like the sun. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

"Nah." Ichigo stepped closer, cradling her face between his big hands, his thumbs tracing her cheeks. He was drowning in a field of violets, and nothing had ever felt so wonderful. "I don't smile."

He touched his lips to hers and suddenly everything was right in the world.

Even Byakuya's pointed cough couldn't ruin the moment. Ichigo pulled back and watched her eyes flutter open. "Love you."

Rukia let out something between a laugh and a sob. "I know." He'd told her that just by showing up.

"Christmas?"

"Christmas," she agreed. She would hold that memory in her heart until then.

"We have to go, Rukia."

"Hai, Byakuya-nii-san." She picked up her bag and looked up at his face, smiling impishly. "Aishiteru, baka."

"Teme," he growled, but his eyes sparkled.

Rukia just laughed.

Aishiteru = I love you

Teme = You (but very informal and bordering on rude, something like "you bastard")

A/N: And that's IchiRuki - and look at that, it's my longest story to date! It took me so long to get here in the SB series because when I started, I wasn't sure that I could write them at all, especially Ichigo. Even with this, it was a little hard getting into his head, so I hope you guys liked this and it was worth the wait! I'm so sorry for taking so long, but this semester had just been insane. It just figures that when I started my longest term paper to date (20 pages!), my muse would kick in. So thanks for being so patient guys - this one's for you! Again, hugs and kisses go to poptate, my wonderful, wonderful beta and MatsuMama, my own personal cheerleader ^_^ Love you guys!

Next up, IshiHime!