I don't own bleach, however, I like playing with the characters! Yum.

Still no lemon here, but there will be soon! PLEASE READ!

I have dealt with a lot in reality. My sister was sick with pancreatitis for two weeks and had a heart attack to follow up after that. She's only 15 -.- My mother has been out of work for a while because her leg has been too swollen to walk. However they are both better. My sister is fine and she will be having a cat scan of the heart in a few days. I'm thankful that she is still with me and proof reading my stories even when she was in the hospital! We still don't know what's wrong with my mother. I'm still dealing with school and trying to work to pay off tuition. ANY WHO! It's been hell but I'm here to update for you guys! I'm very sorry it took so long. Though there isn't much difference except for some dialog and change of plot. I did make chapter two very long.

Hey all! It's been a very long time. Tonight I've updated two stories and I'm so tired. I will say that chapter 1 and 2 are mainly recaps of the past chapters. I have taken out a lot and I have a similar plot to the previous one I had before. I shouldn't take a year or two to update again hopefully.

I thank you all for all the support and reviews I got even though I wasn't updating! I was really amazed at how many people waited! I even got tons of new followers! I thought this fic would be a goner. Only because I couldn't figure out how to make this all different from the last version. As you know, I wasn't happy with how they were flowing and I hope now that it will be a better read. Keep in touch IchiRuki fans! There will be much to come!

Thanks so much you guys. I appreciate you all. Kiwi is back in business! 9-1-14

Fancy Lover

Finding Ichigo was an accident; their love was intentional.

There was a faint sigh of annoyance. "Because— Rukia…" Rangiku finally grumbled, after hearing the smaller lady repeat "why" numerous times. "…Your incapacity to interact with the opposite sex is too excruciating. Plus it's Wednesday!"

Wednesday? That's it? That's her excuse for dragging her on her dating mania? "WAH? What is the matter with that?!" Rukia grumbled, just loud enough for Rangiku to hear her over the racket of the bustling streets. She frowned; her violet eyes merely fell on the big-busted woman of average height. "Clearly, I'm capable of finding my own man."

"Rukia, honey, you are nineteen with no boyfriend," the woman sighed as her nine-inch heels clunked on the rock hard pavement. They were on their way to Rangiku's favorite shindig. "Not to mention, untouched, as well. Don't you find that terrifying?"

"No. I don't," Rukia glowered at the thought. She genuinely wanted to lose that v-card just so Rangiku wouldn't have to bring that up each time they talked about her. In fact, her struggle in losing her v-card was all they seemed to talk about. But, you see, it wasn't her fault. "Well, it seems that men fail to meet my simple expectations. Now, that's terrifying."

"Oh, you mean your super harsh expectations list, the list with attributes only a man custom-made from cupid would have? Get real, Rukia— this is reality," the woman's lip curled in disgust.

"Fine, forget it! I still don't see the logic in me going!" Rukia groaned in embarrassment, "I find it rather torturous and futile to drag me along on your speed dating escapades."

"Hn," Rangiku rolled her eyes, shunning the little woman's complaining, "Perhaps torturous for that seldom sexual character of yours but not useless." They stopped at a private building; jazzy lounge music gently hummed a sweet tune through the glass doors. Rukia grimaced at the red neon sign that said: The Dating Lounge.

"Remember Rukia," the young woman heaved a sigh at Rangiku's chatter, "One who desires happiness should make the effort in finding what makes them happy— and my wittle darling," Rangiku bent over, grasping one of Rukia's cheeks in her long, red, nailed fingers, "I'm gonna do what I can in making that happen."

Rukia resisted prying the woman's hand away from her face and her now swollen cheeks. Did Rangiku think she was actually helping the problem? Well, that's if there was any problem, because she didn't see one. Nowadays, guys had no class. Looks didn't captivate her; her unique guy had to be smart and funny with a firm personality. When she did decide to lose her virginity, she wanted it to be with a decent guy— not some imbecile.

But since she was being dragged against her will to her friend's senseless entertainment, there was no point in protesting.

"Fine," Rukia crossed her arms delicately, "I'm doing this for you. If I don't like it, you owe me big time."

"And what if you do?"

Rukia seriously doubted she would enjoy herself. She was almost certain that all the males in this place were pompous hotheads who thought they were the hottest thing walking. "I won't. Trust me," Rukia nodded strongly with her words, as the other woman shot her a nostalgic look. "I'll just act like as if I'm interested."

"Seriously?" Rangiku sighed, shaking her head. That was as compelling as it was going to get with the little midget. Who knows, maybe Rukia would loosen up and find chemistry. …BAHA! Who was she kidding? Rukia was a stone. Guys were frightened to even utter a word to the woman. "I guess it's better than nothing, and if you don't have fun, then I won't ever ask again… still," Rangiku pushed the door open, "I think it's possible you will enjoy yourself, Rukia."

Rukia sighed but held her tongue. It was fruitlessly silly to argue; Rangiku wasn't about to let her bail. So much for trying again. It's just for this evening, that's all, she reasoned with herself, shrugging, after this I won't ever have to do it again. The sudden breeze from inside the place lifted Rukia's dark hair. She flattened her palm against her churning stomach, closed her eyes, and focused on deep breaths.

"Follow my lead. I'll sit you at a table close to me," she shot Rukia another one of her odd sentimental smiles. Oh how considerate… Now she would have front row seats to Rangiku's overrated flirtatious behavior. It's just speed dating— it will be over before I know it…

When they arrived, many individuals were already gathering, jostling to get in their seats, conversing loudly with one another. It looked like a jazz pub with two-seater tables and casual leather couches dwelled in each corner of the joint. Waitresses with alcoholic and nonalcoholic beverages sauntered around the tables that already seemed to be active. Wednesday was Ladies' Night, so that explained why Rangiku wanted to come on a Wednesday. All the females got in free and resided at the tables while the men did all the table skipping. It was a relief to her that she wasn't the one hopping to each table.


There were men everywhere.

Gosh, Rukia had never seen this many men since Rangiku dragged her to a wakeboarding event last summer. There was a small crowd of neatly dressed men, but they were further away from where they decided to sit. Rukia caught a glimpse of a few perverts winking and licking their lips lavishly at her small frame. It was enough to puke.

"I'm going to the bathroom," Rangiku announced. "Unlike for you, it's going to be a splendid night for me, and I don't want it ruined with bodily functions. I have reserved our seats; would you like to come with?"

"No. Thank. You," Rukia scowled, slumping a little in her chair, succeeding to make it clear to Rangiku that she was still grouchy from being hauled to an illogical place where she manifestly had no interest whatsoever.

"Suit yourself." The taller woman shrugged, sliding through the mini crowd. Now that Rukia was alone, she tried to relax. She glanced over at the main stage where the jazz music was playing. At least she could appreciate that, if nothing else. How did these kinds of dating events work anyway? Speed dating was only something she saw on television, and, in her opinion, it looked meaningless and imprudent. What was even the purpose of it? How much information could one get from someone in just a few minutes of talking?

With that thought in mind, she took a sip of juice from the glass the waitress managed to put on the table without her looking. I need to relax, she told herself.

Then— Ding.

Suddenly, people ceased their conversations to get up and move around. It's starting already? But Rangiku is not back yet; I'll be all alone—

"May I… sit here?"

Rukia's head jolted up to the throaty voice that was in front of her. An extremely tall young man stood there in a knee-length black overcoat and shaggy hair, staring emotionlessly down at her. Emotionally deprived much? The small woman cleared her throat, "Sure," she beamed him a broken smile. Even so, he never suspected a thing.

If it wasn't for his creepy eye that lingered on her, she would have felt a little bit comfortable. His other eye was obscured by his shaggy strands of bangs. "Hi. I'm Rukia Kuchiki." She was rewarded with silence. "Eh… and, and your name—"

"Saaado. . .,"the man said slowly; his tanned face emotionlessly staring, ".Yaaasutora."

"Um." She felt like a psychiatrist, and he was the chronically sick, deranged patient. If that didn't crush the little comfort zone she had, then him sounding as a pedobear did.

"Sado, eh?" His amber eye seemed to study her; yet nothing came out of the man's mouth. How long did she have until the bell rang again?

"So… is that, um, Mexican?"


What a stupid question to ask! Is that Mexican? Of course it is! Mr. Sado seemed unbothered by their brief conversation. He slowly got up and sauntered to the right. Rukia sipped her juice again. This was going to be a long night.

"Twenty bucks you weren't here by choice," another voice made her look up urgently. This man was short like her, with pale skin and dark hair. His dark eyes told her nothing, but somehow, she knew he wasn't like the other guy. He helped himself to sit down, swiftly crossing his legs causally.

"I guess I owe you then," Rukia smiled. "My friend made me come here. . ."

"Ah. Well, my name is Mizuiro Kojima. I'm a regular here. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"I'm Rukia Kuchiki," she sipped her juice again. "And you too."

The conversation was likely to get interesting, wouldn't it? Mr. Kojima seemed like a nice person to visit with for five minutes, didn't he? "Well, let's waste no time here. . ." or not. . .

"Like I said, I'm a regular here. I guess you could say I'm a pretty big deal around here. Right now, I'm in the transitioning period of breaking up with my girl friend. So if we do decided to take up a notch, we gotta be quiet about it," he explains and halts, "Oh. By the way, how old are ya?"

Rukia blinks twice. "Excuse me?" Rude! You don't ask a woman how old she is. That's pure common sense. However, she cleared her throat, "Why don't you guess." And if you get it wrong, I collect your fucking amateur looking head. She rested a hand under her chin, practically holding her irritation back by biting her lip and glaring at the man.

"Not too old." Damn good answer. Rukia couldn't help but crack a smile under all that rage. "Which is too bad, I like my women with at least ten years over me. And no offense, you could pass for my eight year old sister."

Her smile was short-lived, "Excuse me!" This brat! "Listen here, I don't appreciate you calling me an eight year old, you despicable little fool. I'm a senior in college, and I happen to have—"


"Wah," she blinks with her finger waving warningly in his face. Was it time already?

"Later toots." Mr. Kojima gets up and walks to another table. That guy was too much into his game. Not mention he was a grave robber. Yuck. The next guy to approach her was tattooed up from head to toe— literally. Head, arms, and Rukia was sure that his legs were, too. However, she couldn't stop looking at the blood red mop atop his head. Rukia's jaw fell into her lap, but she quickly redeemed herself. What the hell was he doing here? Did he get dragged into doing this, too? How embarrassing…


"I'm Renji Abarai. . . huh." The man looked as if he had seen a ghost. His mouth parted in a bizarre curl, disgustedly. "Rukia? What are you doing here of all places?" Renji took a seat in the chair. As if he had any room to talk. Renji glanced down at her glass. "And you're drinking— but you're a minor," his eyes widened.

"Renji, it's apple juice."

"Oh good," came a relieved sigh from the tattooed man.

"Renji," she glanced to see who was around to catch her idiotic expression, "Look, I didn't come here by choice. Rangiku made me come."

"Is that right," he paused, trying to find the woman, "Then where is she?

"I don't know. She went to the bathroom. She's been gone for a while." Rukia sighed at the familiar face. "Renji, you've gotta get me out of here. This place is full of freaks. Well. . . " she bit her lip, ". . . everyone except us."

"No kidding, but you just have to look for the right one," the man suggested, raising a tattooed eyebrow at her. "So why were you dragged here?"

Because Rangiku was cruel. She's nosy and thinks she can play sex doctor by taking someone to her ridiculous dating joints. "I don't know, but please get me outta here." She frowned at her confused friend.

"Rukia, it's not that—"


No! The only civil being she knew here just got up. "Well, see ya in class, Rukia. Don't be so pessimistic, okay? You might find someone worth talking to," Renji smiles and walks to the next table. Where the fuck was Rangiku? She was supposed to be here already. Rukia sipped her apple juice again, urgently this time, wishing it was booze.

"H-Hello," began another voice.

Rukia looks up frowning, "Hi."

"Can I sit with you?" this man was short like Mr. Kojima and kind of looked like him, too. Only this one was less confident and less of a prick.

"Sure, you might as well," she sighed. "I'm Rukia Kuchiki."

"Hi, Rukia. You seem down," the man noticed as he scooted in the chair. "What's the matter?" A male who actually considered her feelings? Rukia sat up straighter, suddenly acutely conscious of her stank mood.

"No, I—," she cleared her throat, "No, I'm fine. It's just, this speeding date thing is becoming a real drag," she admitted as the other man began to laugh nervously.

"I know what you mean. This is my first time coming, oops—," he immediately stopped. "Where are my manners? I'm Hanataro Yamada. I'm nineteen, and I work at the convenience store down the street," he smiled nervously again. "In fact, I think I've seen you a few times in there."

Finally, a man her age, and one who didn't come off as a prick. Rukia paused looking at the individual's youthful face closely. "Yes, I do remember seeing your face," clearly she was amused now. "Well, I'm a senior in college. I still live with my brother, and I work at a flower store."

"I live on my own," Mr. Yamada admitted shyly. Rukia was so pretty. She was a lot different than females he talked to previously.

"Have you ever had a girlfriend?" Rukia muttered, wondering if that would make the shy man uncomfortable. It did.

"N-No, not really," he flushed. "I was told this was the best way." He froze, "I mean, I'm not here for a g-girlfriend . . .," he flushed until his cheeks were a blistering red, ". . . just to meet new people." He was so sweet. Rukia felt sorry for him; he needed a pat on the back for trying.

"Meeting new people is good," she agreed, finishing the rest of her apple juice. "Say, find me after this is over, and we'll talk some more, okay?" She could see his pleased smile cracking through his troublesome spirit, a sign of relief that he didn't screw up, for once.



"Well, I have to go. Later, okay?"

"See ya."

"Alright, move," ordered a brusque voice. A young man with impossible orange hair and a cocky smile approached the small table, scaring the little man out of his seat. "You're hogging the little lady to yourself. That's not fair to us . . . now is it?" he questioned the smaller man. His playful amber brown eyes fixed suggestively on Rukia.

Mr. Yamada shook his head, "I'm so sorry." Rukia frowned at how the smaller man just bowed to the pretentious freak. She jolted up, balling her fists.

"You don't have to say sorry to him. He's just a hulking bully," Rukia cooed. However, Hanataro just kept his eyes glued to the ground.

"I'm going now. Later, Miss Kuchiki."

Orange spiky head looked around his early thirties. Whatever the case, this man seemed arrogant, much worse than Mr. Mizuiro. He was in a black causal suit, a white collared shirt showing, and no tie. "And you are?" she scoffed, too annoyed to notice his lusty, beautiful smile.

"Ichigo Kurosaki." The man sat down, "And you must be Rukia Kuchiki." He extended a slender hand to Rukia.

She resisted. Her heart dropped; hopefully nobody saw the impetuous look on her face. "How, how do you know my—"

"Relax, I heard you say it from the last session. I was at the table behind you." He watched Rukia look over her shoulder as if she was being followed by a mad man and observed her chest fall from relief. She was small, cute, and just what he wanted. Her violet eyes shot him a death glare. He could see that softening her up wasn't going to be easy.

"So you go to college?" the man asked her.

"Yes," her lips pressed into a then line. She didn't like Mr. Kurosaki; he was invasive and egotistical. Oh my god. It's as if he acts that way on purpose. The man had so much confidence. "At Gotei University of Tokyo."

"I graduated from there. That's one thing we have in common," he joked, absolutely loving the way she bit her lip.

Rukia didn't even crack a smile; instead, her eyes threw daggers at the orange head, whose eyes were relaxed and fervently calculating her. Rukia ignored him. "I'm going to be honest Mr. Kurosaki and save you some breath." Ichigo pulled a straight face as she spoke, "I personally don't care to know where you graduated and all that. You are a rude, prideful stud who fakes his classiness by wearing suits. Do you even have a profession?"

He raised a brow. "Yeah."

She was shocked, "Oh really? What are you then?" A gangster, a strip club owner? Try to be a little nicer, Rukia. She laughed in her mind. Maybe he was a teacher or something.

"If you must know," Ichigo shrugged as his demeanor changed. His crooked smile was mocking her as he slouched casually in the chair, crossing his legs. He cleared his throat, partially grinning again. "I'm a doctor." An affectionate expression beamed from his tan face.

"Oh. . ." I'm such an idiot! So the guy was smart? He was more than that; he was compassionate and cared for others. He saved people's lives! Rukia didn't suspect that a fucking doctor would ever mingle with the commoners at a dating joint.


"Well," he partially smiled again, untouched by her hatred. "If you don't find what you're looking for here, find me at the bar," he pointed with a thumb at the mini bar on the other side of the pub. The mysterious man got up and ambled away.

"I have got to find Rangiku!" Rukia got up as well and putting a "be back later"sign on her table just as another male approached her.

"Hi, I'm Uryu Ishida—"

"Hi,um . . . heh, I'll be right back." Rukia left the confused man to venture around the rest of the pub. Once I find Rangiku, I'm killing her. She left me alone for thirty minutes in a place I know nothing about! Rukia grumbled to herself. It seemed like forever before she found her again; Rukia narrowed her eyes at the woman over by the piano. The drunk woman. . .

. . . Typical. She stocks up on booze and leaves Rukia to fend for herself!

"RUKIAAA!" Rangiku looked wild with her hair all frizzy like she had worked up a sweat. She flushed, smiling at the angry Rukia, "Come, let us drink!" She was the most reckless twenty-two year old Rukia had ever met!

"I can't. Let's go," she tugged on the one-heeled woman. "I'll drive you home."

"No," Rangiku frowned. "I'll, I'll drive. . . I can see better than you can see . . . in the dark." What? Rukia sighed, thank god everyone else was drunk, too or else they would have received some strange looks.

"Come on," Rukia dragged her through the crowd. There was no way she was going to let this woman drive. After tonight, I'm getting her to go with me to the Chappy Ice Cream Parlor. It's only fair. Rukia pulled Rangiku's drunk, dead weight. Seriously, how could someone get this wasted? It should be explicitly forbidden. Rukia huffed; she was almost there—the entrance.

Suddenly, a harsh jolt threw them off balance. Both girls fell on the floor; Rangiku laughing hysterically, and Rukia startled for the moment. "I hate drunk people," Rukia complained. Abruptly, she pulled the both of them off the floor, realizing the thing Rangiku crashed into was Mr. Kurosaki. Now she was there, soaked in his Jack Daniels.

"I'm so sorry," Rukia pleaded. "My friend is drunk, and. . ." To her horror, his suit was wet, as well. "I was in a rush and didn't see you."

"It's okay, Miss Kuchiki," Ichigo smiled. He knew she was apologizing out of instinct. Still, he had bumped into the girl of his desire. Everyone was quiet for a brief moment, and then they began to chat again.

"Here, let me," she snagged a few napkins and dabbed his attire. To top it off, she was rude to him. But he was so rude, full of himself and—

"I feel funny." Rangiku's head drifted a little to the side, and quickly, she lurched forward and upchucked— all over Ichigo! Oh my god! Rukia's skin grew paler as she stared at the heaping vomit in front of her. "I'm soooooo sorry! Forgive my friend."

He sharply inhaled and she cringed, practically humiliated. Why didn't she see it coming? After all, Rangiku had been drinking all night.

"It's fine, Rukia," he raises his brows, a bitter gleam in his eyes. Ichigo was pissed. "Don't worry about it," he stated tightly.

She shook her head. "I'll pay for you suit. Whatever the cost." There was no way she could let him walk out with a soiled suit.

He was moved by Rukia's declaration, in a way he couldn't explain. He stared at her, his mouth salivating at the sight of her pale, small frame. He licked his lips. Rukia's outfit was plain but attracted him—a long black dress, covered with a denim jean jacket. He wanted to rip it all off her. The succulent young flesh of her small cleavage springing out at him from the dress.

"I'll tell you what," the man stared at her fragile neck, so young and vibrant. He was unquestionably, positively sure that she tasted delicious. "Let me take you out on a date this weekend. That will make up for everything," he narrowed his amber irises at the young female. "Even what you said earlier about me being a rude, prideful, stud who fakes classiness."

Rukia frowned and hesitantly responded, "It's a date then." She unwillingly took a pen and wrote her number. "Just one date, that's all."

He retrieved the paper, "That's all I need." He was comforted by her warm expression. It was almost as if she was giving in finally. That told him that he had a bit of a chance to make her his sensual lover.

Rukia pulled on the half-passed out Rangiku and headed towards the door. One date . . . that's all, she mumbled to herself.

Ichigo watched her struggle to the door, his eyes shocked. He honestly didn't think he was going to see her again. Who knew it would take the girl's friend to do something stupid? As oddly as it sounded in his head, he was happy they bumped into him—

Eh . . . well, minus the vomiting.