Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Murder My Heart ❯ Questioning the Stars ( Chapter 7 )

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

 

(A/N: Good morrow gentle people. I hope you have had a nice hiatus from my story, because… HERE'S MORE!!! WOOHOO!!! Once again, Ichigo's a bit OOC and Rukia's pretty cold but I like it that way.

I also forgot to beg people for reviews in my last chapter, so here's the begging: PLEASE REVIEW!!! I hope you like this chapter, because I do!)

 

 

 

 

Chapter 7

 

When they arrived at the crime scene, Renji was there, waiting for them. Ichigo parked near the edge of the street and glanced around the area—it was a rather well known street in the better districts of the city. There were shopping centers, restaurants, and private gyms everywhere. He noticed pedestrians with large shopping bags rubber-necking near the crime scene. Ichigo sighed and opened the door to the car, he didn't like the upper class audience he would have been subjected to, to be honest he would have preferred the silent scrutiny of the slums.

 

“This is different,” Rukia said, “All the other murders have been in dark streets in or near the slums.” She paused and looked around, “This is pretty high brow.”

 

“I know,” Ichigo grunted, “I just hope we don't have any camera crews coming in soon.”

 

She snorted and turned to glare at him, “But you like attention so much.”

 

He turned to her and smirked, “Only the type that gets me closer to you.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Renji standing nearby, glaring at them from the sidewalk. On impulse, Ichigo reached for Rukia's hand and grabbed it; she started as he brought her palm swiftly to his lips and kissed the soft center.

 

Rukia withdrew her hand immediately and jerked to the other side of the car. Ichigo saw her face heat interminably and grinned.

 

“You know, making you blush is fun.” He commented smilingly.

 

Rukia opened the door to the car and glared at him, “You're an ass.”

 

“Only when I want to be,” he replied.

 

“And that's about all the time, isn't it?” She snapped, standing up and shutting the door, she glanced around the crime scene and noticed the red-headed detective standing, glaring, and fuming on the sidewalk. She turned to Ichigo and snarled as he closed his own door. “You son of a bitch,” she hissed, “You only did that because Renji was watching!”

 

Ichigo came to stand beside her and smirked, “You would have wanted me to do it even if he wasn't standing there.”

 

Rukia hit him hard on the arm and he grunted at her strength, “No,” She glared softly, “I wouldn't.” She walked quickly towards the yellow police tape, leaving Ichigo behind.

 

He grinned and followed after her, he caught up with her and shrugged, “If you ever change your mind… you know where to find me.”

 

She huffed and continued on. Renji met the two of them near the sidewalk; he gave each of them a deep glower and Ichigo was pleased to see a vein ticking in his forehead. He smirked warmly at the man and casually brushed his arm against Rukia. She didn't notice the gesture but Renji sure as hell did, his teeth bared in a threatening snarl.

 

“What's going on?” Rukia asked stooping under the yellow tape and continuing on to a few crime scene investigators, Renji and Ichigo followed—Ichigo at a safe distance away from Renji.

 

“Nanao Ise,” Renji boomed, his voice commanded the air around them, “Was shot in the back of the head with a .22 on her way to dinner with her boyfriend.”

 

Rukia nodded and swept her eyes over the scene. “Is Hanataro here?”

 

“Yeah,” Renji said, pointing, “He's over there.” He paused and cleared his throat, causing Rukia to turn her head and glance over at her, “The Lou is giving you guys this case,” his menacing eyes flicked over to Ichigo, “So I'm going back to the two eight.”

 

She nodded and said, “That's fine,” before moving closer to some CSI personnel, Ichigo began to follow her when Renji's voice stopped them both.

 

“Rukia!” He called.

 

Exasperated, she turned and planted her hands on her hips, “Yes?” Her irritation at him was growing proportionally.

 

Renji's eye twitched and he crossed his arms over his chest, “We need to talk.” He said muttered quietly. “Soon.”

 

Rukia's eye twitched in response, she set her jaw sturdily and shook her head. “There's nothing to talk about.” Her eyes glanced over to Ichigo before she turned away, “Let's go.”

 

Ichigo shifted to the flustered detective and shrugged his shoulders; there was a visible “sorry, sucks to be you” look shining on his face. Detective Abarai wrinkled his nose and shoved his middle finger into the air. Ichigo returned the gesture with a snicker and moved to follow Rukia.

 

He knew he shouldn't have goaded the Detective, but Christ he just couldn't help it. He knew that Rukia and Renji had been partners for over two years; wouldn't it be only rational that his mind would think that they had been romantically involved? They were both single, attractive, people who apparently had a lot in common, and Renji was just too much of a perfect target. He knew from experience that there was no one more fun to torment than an ex boyfriend.

 

Come to think of it, the first time he saw them he had even been slightly jealous of how they acted, like they could depend on each other for anything they needed. They pushed each other to be better, to go further and achieve whatever they wanted to achieve. But they didn't act like lovers; there were no hidden caresses or secret kisses, if anything they acted more like… well, brother and sister. He was the protective older brother and she was the tiny ball-busting little sister.

 

Ichigo followed after her as she came closer to Hanataro, one of the sides of his mouth quirked as he stared at her figure from behind.

 

And boy was he glad she turned out to be the ball-busting little sister.

 

“Hanataro,” She called to the nervous man as she strode over to him. He was standing near the wall of a skyscraper, scribbling on a sheet of paper. He looked up when he heard his name and smiled softly when he saw who it was.

 

In the past few months that Rukia had been at the three one she had made friends with the nervous crime scene investigator. She spoke to him as if he was a real person, something that didn't happen very much inside or outside of the three one, he would do just about anything for her if she asked. “She's kind,” he would say to anyone who would listen. Most of the people would just brush off the comments and go back to treating Hanataro like dung. Not to mention that anyone who actually met Rukia would say the exact opposite of what the crime scene investigator thought about her.

 

“Rukia!” He said chirpily, “How are you?”

 

Rukia offered him a screwed up grimace—was she trying to smile?—and said, “A little better now that I see you Hanataro.” She came forward and put a hand on his stooped shoulders. “Please tell me you have something for me.”

 

Her face was so tense, Ichigo wondered if it would break in half if any more pressure was added. Hanataro grinned and her face immediately relaxed, “You're going to be so happy with me…” he said happily.

 

Ichigo's eyes widened and he jerked his eyebrows up, “You actually have something for us?”

 

The tiny man glanced at him and nodded, “Our perp wasn't so careful this time, he's getting sloppy.”

 

“What is it Hanataro?” Rukia asked eagerly.

 

“A footprint,” he said clearly, he led them over to an area where—only hours ago—the body of a dead girl had been lying. He crouched down to the ground and the two detectives followed suit. “Right here,” he said, pointing down at a small splotch of blood. “Our guy wasn't as careful about where he stepped. From what we can see he shot her here,” he pointed a few steps back, “And she fell down directly here. But he stepped in the blood that came out of her head—that and a bit of her brains.”

 

Ichigo wondered if Rukia's stomach was churning.

 

“But aren't there any witnesses?” She asked, “This is a very public street.”

 

“That's the thing,” Hanataro said softly, “I can't figure it out… from what I can see she was shot in that alley over there,” Ichigo and Rukia glanced over to it, “She must have been taking a shortcut to dinner when she was popped by the perp.”

 

“Why was she moved post mortem?” Ichigo asked, scratching the slight stubble he had on his chin.

 

“I don't know that either,” Hanataro said, his voice was becoming a little squeakier; apparently his nervousness grew along with the tally of things he didn't know. “But this is what I can tell you: when he moved her he left a partial footprint with her blood. I'll see if I can get the shoe size or make back at the lab. Also, we found something else that was on her clothes.” He paused dramatically and grinned at Rukia.

 

Rukia looked at him expectantly, “And that would be?”

 

Hanataro grinned, “Cocaine. Your perp had coke on him the night Nanao was killed.”

 

“Great,” Ichigo snorted, “We can just go and interview all of the coke dealers in the entirety of the city.”

 

“But Renji and I already did that,” Rukia told him, “None of them knew anything.”

 

Ichigo smirked at her, “I was being sarcastic.”

 

She glared at him and turned her head away, Ichigo was pretty sure he could see an angered blush staining her cheeks. Ichigo watched her as she examined the ground a bit more before shrugging and saying. “But I do have connections in the drug dealer ring.”

 

She raised her head and narrowed her eyes at him, “I knew you were a crack addict.”

 

“You wish,” he replied, “I mean I have a C.I.”

 

She shrugged and patted Hanataro on the shoulder, “Thanks so much, you'll call me if you get anything on the shoe, right?”

 

“Absolutely,” Hanataro said, smiling wearily.

 

Rukia nodded at him once again and turned to Ichigo. “So, what are we doing next?”

 

“Well,” he sighed as he stuffed his hands in his jean pockets, “I'll call my C.I. and see when he can meet us. But until then we can go to the two eight and see the body.”

 

She nodded, “We should also find the boyfriend and ask him if Nanao called him or said anything relating to her murder.”

 

“He's a hot shot in the advertising business,” Hanataro chimed in, “He works at Miagiske Advertising but we've heard that he's been at home all day… grieving.”

 

“Alright,” Rukia said, taking charge of the situation, “Let's go see the body then we can go visit the boyfriend.” She glanced at Ichigo, “How long do you think it will take to get in touch with your C.I.?”

 

“A few days at the latest,” he said, “He's a very busy man.”

 

“I'm sure he is,” she spat disgustedly as she turned away and began to walk back to the car.

 

“Hey,” he shrugged, “He's just observing them, getting to know them, he's not actually dealing.”

 

“Still,” she answered, “There's nothing worse in the world than someone who sells that stuff.”

 

Ichigo frowned, “A man's gotta make a living in this world.”

 

“And he can get arrested for making that kind of a living,” she argued, climbing into the passenger side of the car. “I don't care how bad his circumstances are.”

 

“Now would you be saying that to some crack addicted, working girl that was only put on the street because her stepfather raped her and her mother beat her?” Ichigo asked as he settled himself in the driver's side.

 

“Okay,” she said, “That's different.”

 

“How?” He asked her, “How is it different?”

 

“That girl had no opportunities.” She said, “How did the drug dealer you're investigating grow up?”

 

“Suburb twenty miles outside the city, rich father, domestic mother… he even went to college.” He conceded, “But he did have a rocky childhood.”

 

Rukia bit her lip and shrugged, “I just think that if you have the opportunities you should use them, don't let them go to waste with bogus excuses.” Her voice grew softer and she stared out the window at the decorated streets around her. “When you have nothing you need to take every advantage given to you and use it to make something of yourself.”

 

Ichigo remained silent for a few moments; he started the car and pulled out of the crime scene, glancing over at his partner in the process. She was staring out the window, her eyes glazed at the passing scenery; the sky was grey with the onslaught of a coming rain storm.

 

“You sound like you're talking from experience,” he murmured.

 

She didn't speak for a few minutes, her elbow was resting on the windowsill and her fingers were next to her lips, massaging them gently.

 

“Foster care,” she murmured softly, “Sent from one house to the next. Smart but insubordinate. Too old to be adopted by anyone. Beaten at different houses. Almost raped twice. No family.”

 

Ichigo felt a constriction in his throat, “But you're brother…”

 

“He was my brother-in-law first,” she said softly. “He married my sister, my sister went looking for me, she died, so my brother-in-law found me. I was adopted when I was seventeen.”

 

“Damn.” He said softly, riding the car slowly.

 

“Yeah,” she said softly, still staring emptily outside. “And now he's dead.”

 

“It's not your fault.” Ichigo told her immediately, turning the car towards the street leading to the two eight.

 

“I know that,” she said quietly, “But it is if I don't solve this case… then it is.”

 

“I beg to differ.”

 

She glanced at him and shook her head, “You can beg all you want, it won't change a thing.”

 

Ichigo smiled at her softly, “You haven't seen the way I beg.”

 

She snorted softly and shook her head, “You know you talk too much right?”

 

“I'll try to amend that.” He said, falling into silence as they continued to drive to the two eight. They arrived at the precinct speedily, traffic having been stalled earlier in light of the recent murder.

 

When Rukia entered the precinct there was a distinguished hush that met her treading footsteps. All heads turned towards her as she took a few tentative paces inside. The whispers began almost as soon as the door closed behind her. Ichigo heard only clips of what they were saying but he knew from the hard glint in Rukia's eyes that she could hear every word. Murmurs of conspiracy, mutterings of misfortune, and undertones of curses spread through the area like wildfire.

 

“Don't get close to her,” someone beside them whispered, “Whoever comes in contact with her dies.”

 

Ichigo glanced at Rukia and saw her cheeks redden with anger.

 

“Nanao only bumped her the other day and now she's dead.”

 

“Aren't our birthdays listed in the directory?” One of them whispered, “Why isn't she being taken under investigation?”

 

“She probably already has… with her partner that is. I'm sure he's investigated her tons of times.” The person giggled relentlessly and hid her face in her desk.

 

Ichigo saw her again and found pure hatred glittering in her eyes. Her cheeks were ruby and her lips were white, she was biting them relentlessly. He sighed and came a bit closer to her as they made their way to the M.E.'s office.

 

“Don't worry about them,” he muttered softly, casting his eyes to the side and glaring at the people in the desks near them. “They don't know what they're talking about.”

 

She snorted, “But they sure as hell will if you don't back up.”

 

He frowned at her but didn't move away. Something in his blood just made him want to irritate her… even if she was exceedingly angry at the moment. Maybe he just needed to tease her until all the anger she had inside of her was directed at him and not at the world. Maybe then she would ignore all the snickers and side glances swirling around them.

 

The made it to the corridor to the medical examiner's office and finally got out of range of all the whispers, Ichigo was glad for it too.

 

“Ishida!” She called, opening the door and shoving her way inside, “Ishida, we need the information on the vict—oh sweet Jesus.”

 

She stopped immediately in her tracks and turned her face away, her hand up and facing outward, her fingers splayed to stop any more encroaching visuals.

 

“What?” Ichigo asked, coming forward just a bit and peering over her shoulder to see what was happening, “What's going o—oh Christ.” He mimicked Rukia and set his hand up immediately, his eyes were closed and his shoulders were hitched frigidly. “Put it back, Ishida, put it back.”

 

The two horrified detectives waited while the medical examiners on the floor scurried to put on more clothes than they had previously been wearing. The woman was giggling, saying things about how exciting it was to get caught and how they should try it again soon. The man was huffing and painfully shifting into his pants—which were fitting quite tight around the crotch area.

 

“What,” Ishida began, his breath slightly short, “Do you two want?” He was buttoning his dress shirt and scowling at them. His lab coat was sprawled across an examining table and Orihime was struggling behind it. She seemed to be trying to draw her shirt back over her head and button her pants at the same time.

 

Rukia lowered her hand slightly but kept her eyes squinting fractionally, Ichigo wondered if they had crossed when she saw the two examiners `going at it.'

 

“We actually wanted to see the victim's body. The dead body…” she said, “The limp body that has already gone out of rigor.”

 

Ishida looked down the length of his body and flushed slightly. He coughed lightly and finished buttoning his shirt, a blush was now staining his cheeks as he turned to the detectives and muttered, “We haven't gotten to—ah, examining, the body yet. She's still in the morgue.”

 

“Oh?” Rukia asked, crossing her arms across her chest, “When were you guys going to get to it?”

 

Orihime's head popped up from behind the examining table, “Well, we were going to examine it after we, uh, had some fun.”

 

“You call having sex near tons of dead bodies fun?” Ichigo asked dryly.

 

“It's the most action they're going to see for a very long time.” Ishida replied acidly.

 

Ichigo shrugged in agreement and glanced from Orihime to Ishida, “Just be a bit more… discreet. Okay?”

 

“Yep!” Orihime giggled, she turned her head to Ichigo and smiled softly, “And don't worry, we'll have the body examined as soon as possible.” She winked at Rukia and smiled, shrugging her shoulders cutely in the process.

 

Rukia nodded and turned quickly on her heel. “Alright, we'll leave you to your… bodies.” She muttered quietly, snorting suggestively and continuing on her way.

 

“I'm hanging back a moment,” Ichigo called after her.

 

“Fine, I'm going to talk to Renji.” She said, her voice fading as she went slowly down the corridor.

 

Ichigo waited until he couldn't hear her footsteps before turning around and smiling at the medical examiners in the room. “So, you guys are really hitting it off?”

 

Ishida's face reddened even more, “None of your business Kurosaki.”

 

“Hey,” he said, holding his hands up defensively, “If she's my medical examiner and you guys are going to start shacking up in the morgue I should have a right to know whether or not I need to knock first.”

 

“No…” Orihime sighed, “This was probably a one time thing,” she reached her hand over to Ishida's shoulder and gave it a loving squeeze. “From now on it will be in the bedroom.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him and winked suggestively.

 

Ishida's face turned beet red as he coughed and reached his hand up, patting her hand gently with his spindly fingers. The look on his face—excepting the extreme blush—was affectionate and tender. Gently, he brought it to his lips and brushed a small kiss over the soft skin, he then flipped it over and pressed another kiss into her palm. She giggled softly and blushed prettily. With a sigh she slid over and nuzzled into his shoulder, holding her arms around his waist and pressing her forehead into his neck.

 

Ichigo shuddered and almost convulsed at the sight. All this lovey-dovey stuff was sickening. Sighing, he turned away and moved towards the door when Orihime's voice stopped him.

 

“Hey, Ichigo…” she murmured softly, her hairline still snugly pressed into Ishida's locks. Her eyes were filled with worry and her mouth was quivering slightly. “I heard what they're saying upstairs… about Rukia.”

 

His eyes hardened until they were a glistening with anger. “It's not true… any of it.”

 

She lowered her eyes slightly, “I-I know,” she said quietly, “But I just want to know… you're birthday… when is it?”

 

“You don't need to know,” he answered automatically.

 

“Come on Kurosaki,” Ishida clipped, “Just tell her or else she'll worry,” he turned to his beau and tapped her lightly on the nose, “Right sweetie?”

 

Orihime nodded and simpered like a tiny puppy. “That's right,” she turned her large eyes on Ichigo, “I really will.” Her bottom lip pulled out in a pout.

 

Ichigo stared at them, utterly disgusted. After a few moments of silence Ishida glared at Ichigo. “Kurosaki…” he said warningly.

 

“July 15th.” He grunted, “It was July 15th. See?” He said exasperatedly, “I'm not dead nor am I dying. Are you two okay now? Christ…”

 

“Thank you Ichigo,” Orihime said cheerfully as she watched the detective stomp out of the M.E.'s office. “Just make sure you watch over Ms. Kuchiki like a hawk.”

 

Something in the tone of her voice made Ichigo stop in his tracks and turn around, his eyes pinning onto them. His voice was slightly hoarse when he spoke, “What do you mean?”

 

Ishida shrugged and moved to cradle Orihime from behind, “Well, her birthday is January 14th.”

 

Ichigo's eyes bugged slightly, “What did you say? What day?”

 

Orihime blinked at him prettily, “Rukia's birthday is on January 14th.”

 

For some reason, his breath caught in his throat. “Are you serious?”

 

Orihime nodded, “Yes, Ishida told me.”

 

“Do you think that whoever killed her brother is going after her too?” Ichigo asked, his throat tightening with each word.

 

“I don't know,” Ishida admitted, “But I do find it extremely lucky that whoever killed Byakuya Kuchiki missed Rukia's birthday by seventeen days.”

 

“It's a full circle,” Ichigo murmured, his eyes wandering to the floor and staring absentmindedly as his brain worked furiously, “This guy wants to make a full circle… begin with killing a Kuchiki and end with killing a Kuchiki, both in the month of January, only a few days apart.” He frowned, “I wonder if she's already thought of this.”

 

“Well,” Ishida said, impatience biting at his voice, “Go and ask her.”

 

“Right,” he replied, moving towards the door quickly. When he reached out and put his hand on the knob he turned around and grinned at the medical examiners. “So… do you guys play naughty nurse or something like that?”

 

Orihime grinned thoughtfully, “Well we prefer—”

 

“GET OUT KUROSAKI!” Ishida roared, successfully interrupting his girlfriend while managing to throw a scalpel at Ichigo at the same time.

 

Ichigo ducked the scalpel and heard it clatter to the floor as he laughed his way out of the area. His smile faded as he continued walking down the hallway. His mind was taking dangerously dark turns as he entered the precinct's main room.

 

Was Rukia the last one the Birthday Basher needed to kill? Was she the one who would fulfill the cycle of the year of terror? Would all the killing end with her death?

 

“Christ I hope it's not her,” he murmured to himself, running an agitated hand through his hair.

 

He found Rukia near her old desk, speaking in hushed tones with her previous partner. Her back was turned towards him and while she didn't see him approach, Renji did. He glowered at Ichigo and continued his conversation even after Ichigo had situated himself not three feet from Rukia's back.

 

“Just be careful, okay?” Renji said, his teeth grinding against each other as his eyes occasionally flickered to the rival detective.

 

“I know how to take care of myself,” Rukia assured him, “Plus, you don't have to worry, we're not partners anymore remember?” Her head turned in the general direction of Hinamori, who was actually quite pitifully pretending to work on paperwork. “Besides, you have a new partner.” Ichigo did not miss the disdainful inflection she put on the ending word.

 

Hinamori's cheeks stained red and she continued to fumble with her pencil. Renji's manner became darker as he rubbed one of his temples. “I'm not going into that again.” He said softly. “Just keep working on the case. And you,” he turned on Ichigo, “Keep her safe.”

 

“Huh?” She asked, turning her head and almost hitting it against Ichigo's chest. “Oh, you're here.” She sighed at Renji and motioned towards the door. “Come on, we need to see your C.I.”

 

“I need to call him first, and then we need to go see the boyfriend.” Ichigo told her, following her retreating body. She pushed her way through the whispers and the remarks, her pace was quick and even Ichigo had trouble keeping up with her.

 

She burst through the doors and immediately sucked in a deep breath of air. The smells of the city were a comfort to her. The doughnut shop down the street, the hot dog stand on the corner, even the exhaust from the endless amounts of cars passing by—in addition with relentlessly honking of horns and shouting people—it was all a reassurance. It reminded her that a world beyond all the heinous crimes she saw did indeed exist. Life went on as normal in the city. People just ignored the offenses that went on around them. If they didn't acknowledge it then it didn't happen.

 

But sometimes it made things worse. When people only heard about the bad things they tended to ignore them… there were so many bad things going on in the world—war, famine, genocide… after a while when you see so much horror you just get used to it.

 

The autumn winds breezed through her hair and rifled the strands back and forth. What she hated most was the double standards. Police officers and detectives were supposed to be the good guys, golden gods swathed in blue, they were supposed to catch the killers and the rapists and the child molesters. But they were never supposed to act unprofessional while doing it. No one was supposed to chase down a suspect with a gun, no one was supposed to act like a criminal in order to catch a criminal, and no one… no one… was supposed to get emotional.

 

Some days Rukia just wished she could be unprofessional. Some days she wished she could simply throw her gun down, drop to her knees, discard her badge, yank her hair, throw her head back, and scream. Scream for everything. Scream for her brother and her friends, scream for the sister she never knew, for the lover she would never have… just for everything.

 

She saw that Ichigo was beside her now, speaking to her probably, with a sigh she tuned her ears to listen to him.

 

“…Birthday.”

 

She blinked at him twice, his orange hair was mussed in the wind, gently blowing into his amber eyes and covering his semi-permanent frown. She had the sudden desire to brush his hair aside and tap him lightly on the nose. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and swallowed softly. She was never to think those things again. She cleared her throat, “What did you say?”

 

“I asked you the date of your birthday.” He repeated, slightly irritated that she wasn't paying attention to him.

 

“January 14th,” she answered automatically, in the back of her mind she tried to remember what she got for her last birthday… hadn't her brother given her a book by Socrates? Renji had gotten her a coffee mug warmer. She remembered the gift with distaste, and to think she had gotten him a book on tattoo removal. She turned her attention back to Ichigo. “Why?”

 

“I just wanted to know.” He said, turning away and flipping out his cell phone.

 

She blinked twice. “Why?” Her tone darkened and the word more drawn out. When Ichigo didn't speak she growled, “You wanted to know whether or not I was in line to be killed.” She paced a few steps forward and stood like a rock in front of him. “I'm right aren't I?”

 

Ichigo scowled at her as he fiddled with the keypad, “I was just wondering.”

 

Her hand shot out and she punched him in the stomach, her fist making a large indentation on his muscles as he crouched down and tried to breathe. His cell phone clattered to the cement sidewalk and she raised a foot directly over it.

 

“D-don't!” Ichigo wheezed, gripping his stomach with his hand, his face contorted in pain. “Don't break it!”

 

“Then tell me now,” she demanded, lowering her foot fractionally.

 

“Alright!” He coughed, finally straightening after being hunched over for so long. “Yes. I wanted to know, but for a good reason.”

 

“And what would that be?” She asked him acidly, “Did you want to surprise me with a present?”

 

“No!” He yelled, keeping precarious eyes on the cell phone resting under her foot. “I just wanted to know if it was a cycle.”

 

“A cycle?” She asked darkly, “What kind of cycle?”

 

“Your birthday is only 17 days before your brothers,” Ichigo told her, his anger rising inside as he glowered. “He started the year by killing a Kuchiki so maybe the serial killer wants to finish the year by killing a Kuchiki.” He held up his hands and glared, “It's just a theory.”

 

Rukia gave him a calculating glare, “Yeah, one that you've already given a lot of thought to…” she lowered her foot just a bit more and tilted her head to the side, “You already knew the date of my birthday… you already knew it.”

 

“Your point?” Ichigo asked stiffly.

 

Rukia gave him a hard smirk and set her foot on the ground, merely centimeters from his delicate cell phone. “That's great, Kurosaki, that's really great.” In a huff she turned around and began walking in the opposite direction. “My own partner doesn't trust me enough not to be murdered. That's just fantastic.”

 

“Hey!” Ichigo called after her, he dove for his cell phone and brushed it off before rushing after her. “It's not like it isn't a possibility.”

 

“You think I haven't thought about it Ichigo?” She cried as she whirled on him, her face angry and set in a fury of flames. “You don't think that I haven't wondered if I'll be driving home from work, walking back from the supermarket, or even visiting my brother's grave when I feel the muzzle of a .22 pressed against my skull?” Her voice was strained as she swallowed with difficulty. “Don't you think I think about that all the time now that everyone I touch or come into contact with is being killed?”

 

She turned back around and resumed her fevered pace. “I mean, I met with my brother the day he was murdered, I talked to Matsumoto about his death—asking her if she could find out anything and apparently she did but was killed before she could even tell me, Yumichika drove me home, and I just bumped into Nanao but she's dead too!”

 

Ichigo had to struggle to keep up with her; she was just walking so fast… “Who's to know that you're not next?”

 

“Because,” he replied, “My birthday was July 15th.”

 

Rukia turned so swiftly Ichigo never noticed her hand become balled into a fist. He did, however, notice her fist as it pummeled into already tender stomach and made an indentation twice as large.

 

“You're such an ass,” Rukia snarled. Ichigo keened over and began to wheeze painfully. “You just don't get it, you mother fucking asshole. You can't be the least bit sensitive at any time.”

 

She swallowed roughly and ran frustrated fingers through her hair. “You know what… never mind, just never mind.” She drew in deep breaths and closed her eyes for a moment. “Just call your C.I. and tell me what he says. You know where I live so just call me or come and get me when it's time. Otherwise I don't want to talk to you.”

 

She resumed her walking/running and was around a corner before Ichigo could blink.

 

“Rukia!” He wheezed, running after her, “Wait! Wait, damn it!”

 

He rounded the corner and found her leaning against the wall of the two eight. He felt his gut begin to work a bit more properly as he came up to her. Straightening his spine with difficulty. Her eyes were closed, her head was resting against the brick, her chest was heaving with each breath, and her legs were shaking beneath her. Ichigo wondered how she could be so strong when she looked so fragile.

 

“Rukia…” he murmured, his voice lower due to the punches she had delivered. “Rukia… don't, don't look like that.”

 

She snorted lightly, “How do you want me to look, Ichigo?” She turned towards him and shook her head. “How in the hell do you want me to look?”

 

He came closer to her, until he was standing only a foot away, “I want you to look like you still have hope.” He said softly.

 

She shook her head, “Hope.” She bent her head and stared at a spot on the ground. “I thought you gave up on that a while ago.”

 

“I did,” he said, shifting so his hand was resting on her shoulder. Her clothing felt cold in the breeze and he began to rub his thumb across the fabric. He didn't like it when she was cold—it reminded him of her huddled on the couch, her hair sopping and her skin frigid. He tried not to think of it and said, “I gave up, but you didn't.”

 

“I might as well,” her shoulder shrugged but he didn't remove his hand.

 

“You shouldn't.” He said, coming closer to her, “I told you that I was going to help you solve this case and I am.” He shook her shoulder gently and waited until she looked back up at him, “Just let me call my C.I.”

 

She nodded and sighed removed her back from the wall. He nodded at her and offered her a half-grin. “Don't go running off,” he teased as he dialed, “I probably wouldn't be able to catch you.”

 

“Probably?” She said shortly, “I know you wouldn't be able to catch me.”

 

He quirked an eyebrow and put the phone to his ear, “You want to bet?”

 

“What are you offering?” She replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

He smirked as he listened to the ringing, he was about to speak to his partner when the man on the other end of the line answered, Ichigo held up a “patience finger” and stood to the side. “Chad… hey, it's me. Yeah, we need to meet. When can I see you?” He paused and listened to a deep baritone on the other end. “Sure, yeah… I'll be there… I'm also bringing my new partner. No, she's clean.” He gave Rukia a sly look and smirked into the phone, “I'll personally check to make sure she's not bugged. Yeah, cavity search and all… I'll talk to you later man.” He flipped the phone shut and shrugged at Rukia's outraged look, “What? I had to make some sort of assurance.” He grinned slickly, “You don't mind, do you?”

 

“Fuck off Kurosaki,” she growled, “When did he say he wanted to meet?”

 

“Tomorrow in the park,” he said, “Four in the morning.”

 

“Four in the morning?” Rukia asked, “Why then?”

 

“Apparently it's the only time he gets off from his work.” Ichigo muttered, “Except when he sleeps and pals around with the crime bosses lackey's.”

 

“And not the actual crime boss?” She asked. They were walking back towards the car, a meltdown having been avoided; Rukia was beside Ichigo, her head turned towards him expectantly.

 

“Well, not yet, he still needs to gain a bit more of their trust.” Ichigo shrugged. He opened the car door for her and waited until she got in. Leaning against the door frame he grinned wickedly and said, “Now… how about that cavity search?”

 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

 

Ichigo rubbed his jaw as he sat down on the stylish leather couch, wondering if a bruise would be there in the morning. Rukia had sure as hell punched him hard enough to create one. Grumpily, he made a mental note never to mention cavity searches ever again.

 

Rukia sat beside him a moment later. He glanced at her and glared softly; she ignored him and turned her attention to the grieving man sitting in front of them.

 

He looked older, late thirties or early forties, he had wavy black hair that fell handsomely to his shoulders but was pulled back into a small ponytail. He had a scraggly face with a brisk beard, a solid nose and deep, intellectual eyes. Ichigo glanced at him briefly and noticed his swollen nose and puffy eyes. He felt sorry for the guy for a minute and wondered just how he had found out his girlfriend had died. He sure as hell hoped it hadn't been the news.

 

“Mr. Kyoraku,” Rukia said gently, “Is it alright if we ask you a couple of questions?”

 

The man before them nodded and sniffed noisily. He cleared his throat and said, “I-It's fine… I just… Christ…” He bent his head and pressed his palms against his forehead.

 

“I know,” Rukia said quietly, she leaned forward a bit, placing her elbows on her knees and sighing sympathetically. “You just keep expecting them to walk through the door.”

 

“Yeah,” he said, letting out a gasp of breath, “How do you—”

 

“My brother was the first to be killed by this whacko,” Rukia said quietly. Kyoraku's eyes widened significantly and he clenched his jaw so tightly Ichigo thought it just might break. “But we're here to ask you some questions.”

 

Kyoraku nodded and rubbed his face softly, “Alright. Go ahead.”

 

“How long had you and Nanao Ise been dating?” She said, pulling out a notebook and a pen.

 

“Eight months,” he said, taking out a tissue and blowing his nose. “I was going to p-propose last night.”

 

“It's okay,” Rukia said quickly. Ichigo had the distinct feeling that the detective beside him was trying to keep the grieving man on track. He had to agree, the pain was just too fresh for him, they needed to keep his answers focused on their questions, and not on his once-bright future. “Do you know of anyone who might want to hurt her?”

 

He shook his head, “No one… everyone loved Nanao.”

 

“Does she have any family?” Ichigo asked, injecting his own question and getting a stern look from Rukia.

 

Kyoraku swallowed heavily and shook his head, “Don't you mean `did she have any family?'” He snorted, “No, she didn't. I was the only person she really had. I think she even put me on her medical forms for an emergency contact.”

 

Rukia nodded and tapped her pen against her mouth, “Were there any perps she collared who had it out for her?”

 

“She never talked about her work in front of me,” he said stiffly, “We thought that if we only talked about work… we wouldn't get to know each other very well.”

 

Ichigo nodded and turned to Rukia, “We should probably look through her files, see if anyone was posing any threats to her.”

 

She sighed and looked back to Kyoraku. “Is there anything else you would like to tell us? Anything that might seem pertinent to our case?”

 

He shook his head slowly but raised his eyes to Rukia and Ichigo, glaring with the full power of his intelligently colored irises. “Just catch this bastard… and give me five minutes alone with him.”

 

Rukia and Ichigo sighed, rose, thanked Kyoraku, promised to catch the perpetrator, and made their way out of the door.

 

Yet even though they had promised to catch the man who killed Nanao, they were both wondering if it would ever happen.