Rukia Kuchiki advanced slowly.

It was not deliberately. She believed that she didn't need to be cautious of the Shinigami substitute despite his temperament.

But the damned form-fitting floral garb she was coerced into wearing by tradition restricted her mobility.

Finding Ichigo Kurosaki wasn't difficult at all. His reiatsu still leaked like the gushing, untended faucet that it was since he acquired access to his powers. Anyone with the most basic training on the matter would easily be able to pinpoint him.

It was upon her (and an adamant Isshin Kurosaki's) insistence that she be the one to bring him back to the party.

It was either her or Kenpachi Zaraki, since he offered first, but everyone, surprisingly, including his own division's lieutenant, third and fifth seats, voted against it.

She released a little of her own spiritual energy to let him know that she was there.

He raised his head but made no other effort.

"Rukia."

He continued to stare ahead of him, as if the topiary truly had his undivided interest.

They were in another of the gardens; considerably smaller than the main one, but immaculate, like all the others. He wasn't even sure how he got there, but he figured it was far enough from the festivities to give him some much needed quiet.

"You've been gone for almost two hours. Everyone's worried about you."

He still refused to look at her even when she had stepped beside him.

It was taking a lot for the petite shinigami not to hit him. She had always been brutal when it came to his sulking.

But that was only because she knew then what was weighing the daiko down.

This time, this one time, Rukia did not know what was troubling him.

"Ichigo, tell me what's wrong. Why are you being like this?"

Patience is certainly not one of her best virtues.

She sighed. She was trying, for his sake, to understand.

The night's events replayed in her mind...

For what felt like the first time in her life as a Kuchiki, she enjoyed the obligation of playing hostess. She divided herself well; spending a little of her time with all that she could:

- shared a drink (or two) with Renji, Rangiku, Izuru, Shuhei and Yumichika;

- had a good laugh with Orihime, Tatsuki, Yasutora (Chad), Uryu and Mizuiro - at Keigo's expense;

- face-palmed together with Kukaku, Yurouichi, Yuzu, Karin and Hanataro at Ganju, Isshin and Kisuke's antics;

- prevented separate brawls instigated by Ikkaku and Tetsuzaemon and Hiyori and Shinji;

- appeased every short-tempered, bored-to-tears Shinigami including Yachiru, Toshiro, Mayuri and Kensei, among several others; and,

- had rousing conversations with the Commander-General, all the other captains and seated officers in attendance.

She was such in high spirits that even the once dreaded task of mingling with the guests from the noble houses did not seem so arduous at all. When she decided to take a breather, she wordlessly saw herself out and proceeded to the garden outside the hall to recharge. It had only been a minute when she noticed that someone had followed her.

The man was pleasant at first, making small talk about how lovely the evening was and how interesting the mix of guests were.

It was quite rare for the upper-class to socialize with the common folk, after all.

The insult about her comrades and friends was ignored, since it was so subtly put.

She watched him approach; thinking there was no harm in it since he was a guest. But when he started rambling about how talks of her downplayed beauty and grace were true and how she would indeed make a wonderful prize, she became... skeptical of her decision. She had politely excused herself but he had grabbed her by the wrist. She tried to wriggle free but his hold only tightened. When she asked to be released he only gave her a sneer before pulling her into a hug. She cursed inwardly; among the thousands she directed at her being a Kuchiki noblewoman. She asked once more, still squirming in his grasp, while a hand leisurely explored her back and was coming dangerously low. It was then when a burst of strong spiritual pressure stopped both of them from any movement.

The aristocrat was not used to exposure to such power and began choking, gasping for air. He had released her and fell on his knees as the source came close. He managed by the slightest bit to lift his head but meeting the enraged gaze only made the tightening of his chest worse as if his whole being was being crushed with a single, scorching stare.

Rukia stood still and held her injured hand to her chest.

He stood in front of her and continued to glower at the wretched man.

Her brother's arrvial had somewhat eased the pressure in the vicinity, permitting the disgraced lord to move and beg for mercy at his feet.

The memory ended abruptly.

"Why did you let him hurt you?"

Startled at the sound of his voice, she turned her head to glance at him. He was still looking forward but she realized from the determined set on his jaw that he wanted an answer.

"He seemed friendly, harmless. Furthermore, he was an honored guest. I thought that I couldn't …"

A spike in his spiritual pressure; a big one.

"... fight back because he's from a rich family that's friends with the great Kuchikis?"

He faced her, the anger in his eyes burned through her as he stared her down.

She was almost scared of him now.

Almost.

"Byakuya put you up to this, didn't he?" He accused, his voice booming. "And you allowed yourself to..."

Ichigo's rampage was cut short when a sharp pain shot through his left shin.

After a rather unmanly yelp and a few uncharacteristic hops in a circle, he swallowed what felt remained of his pride and settled for glaring at the small woman in front of him.

How she managed to kick him – HARD - wearing that kimono was beyond him.

"YOU FOOL! LET ME FINISH!"

And just like that, the reiatsu fueled by rage sputtered into nothing as shock doused the anger that consumed him.

"I don't understand why you're so riled up about this." Rukia said as she returned his glare, all hopes of her being reasonable gone.

"Why?" he echoed in irritation. "You know what he would have done to you if I wasn't there?" His voice was low but it made her take a step back. "You purposely let him hurt you!"

"We've been through this, Ichigo. I do not need you to save me."

"Not with what happened." He ground out, still keeping his eyes on hers. "I know you are perfectly capable of defending yourself. So, WHY did you let him hurt you?"

"As I was going to say, before you so rudely interrupted me," she began, unfazed by the growl that came with the question, "I THOUGHT that I COULDN'T, that I SHOULDN'T fight back; that I wasn't supposed to."

She unconsciously gripped her right wrist with her left hand.

"I have to think of our name. I am a Kuchiki after all. My actions are a reflection of the clan's pride and honor."

Byakuya's words, he knew.

"So I was right, your brother..."

"... already chastised me."

Ichigo blinked.

Wait.

"What?"

"Brother is extremely concerned about my well-being. He assured me that there will be repercussions. Brother also said that should I ever find myself in the same situation again, I am to act accordingly." She paused, a small smirk on her lips. "That I should hit the bastard where it hurts the most."

An idea Ichigo and the obnoxious captain agreed on.

"Then I should go bankai for good measure."

Ah.

He closed his eyes and smiled.

Rukia took a deep breath, relieved, seeing that he was finally pacified.

A surprised gasp escaped her when she felt one of his calloused hands wrap around her formerly injured right wrist to bring it up to his line of sight.

"Your father already healed it."

"How bad was it?"

"A little bruising around and some discomfort."

"I see."

She watched him as they talked and noticed how much his features have softend since; his demeanor completely the opposite of earlier.

He felt her eyes; quietly assessing him.

"I told you before, worry about yourself for a change." His thumb idly stroked the back of her hand as he said those words. "No one is allowed to hurt you."

She nodded, her gaze not leaving his.

"And I told you before, I'm not going to say, 'thank you.'"

An annoyed grunt.

But he grinned, nonetheless. "I know."

"We should return to the mansion."

He nodded as he slowly released her hand.

"Rukia…"

"Yes?"

"You look… nice."

Her violet orbs went wide in confusion; not sure if he was teasing or…

"Idiot." she muttered under her breath, not being able to do anything about the warmth spreading across her cheeks. "Can't even give a decent compliment."

He expected another kick or possibly a smack up the head.

Neither came.

"Ichigo."

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

He chuckled and gave her a gentle nudge (well, as gentle as a 5'11" brute can give a 4'8" lady). "I thought you said that you weren't going to thank me?" he teased.

She huffed and tried to kick him again but her kimono, this time around, did not grant her the movement she desired. "I wasn't thanking you for that." Rukia settled for glaring at him, again, as she spoke. "It was for your sorry excuse at flattery."

"You're welcome. I meant it, by the way."

She cursed at the blush that would not leave her.

"Let's go." he said, as he strode past her.

"Ichigo."

He spun to face her.

Rukia didn't know WHY, but she found herself slowly bringing her hand up in front of her; nervously waiting for him to take it.

A breeze swept through them ruffling his hair and blowing through her kimono.

She lowered her eyes, not wanting for him to see the hurt in them. What was she thinking?! Her hand ungracefully fell and she took a step forward, keeping her gaze to the ground.

Her head snapped upwards when she felt a large hand wrap itself around her smaller one.

When he had gone back to her, she didn't even notice.

She couldn't stop the smile that was tugging at her mouth.

If she had bothered to look at him, she would have seen that his expression mirrored her own.

They walked together, side by side, for a while before he tenderly coaxed her fingers to entwine with his own.

She liked the feel of his hand on hers.

As did he.

They continued their stroll, unspeaking, back to the hall; both grateful for the night that hid their flushed faces.