Jealousy

Jealousy

Rukia opened her shoe cupboard and sighed. Instead of finding her shoes how she preferred them—clean and how she left them that morning—or even how they’ve been for the last few weeks—dirty, tattered, and utterly violated—there was a note. She looked around for the usual smug looking suspects. None were around but that didn’t so much matter, Rukia was getting quite tired of this juvenile run-around.

She snatched the note out of the cupboard with more force the generally necessary to prove a point to no one in particular; Your shoes are where you belong, the dumpster.

Another irritated sigh escaped her. It took all that Rukia had in her not to retaliate and these girls were tap dancing on her very last nerve. Retaliating, like she desperately wanted to, would bring her down to their level and Rukia was so above them that at first this meaningless harassment meant nothing to her. She did however refuse to tell Ichigo for two reasons; it wasn’t his fault and the provocations would probably worsen.

Rukia slammed the little door to her cubby trying to release all her frustration on something that couldn’t feel it, it didn’t help much but the latch not catching until it fell a second time after bouncing made her slightly satisfied. But not nearly enough. There was something about the pettiness of girls that just drove her crazy. Rukia could not remember a time when she was this way towards another or another human being for that matter. The true joy these girls seemed to be getting out of tormenting her escaped Rukia.

Stepping off the landing Rukia begrudgingly made her way to the dumpster behind the school. She would have to salvage what she could from the shoes she would find in the trash and clean the bottoms of her indoor shoes when she got home today. It wasn’t fair, she huffed. Rukia had done nothing wrong to deserve this.

In the beginning it was just Orihime and her lemming posse who cornered her in the bathroom one day and demanded that she stay away from Ichigo if she knew what was good for her. Rukia, of course, hadn’t cared because they were obviously misunderstanding the relationship she had with Ichigo. She had tried to explain but her words fell on deaf ears, nothing could have changed their minds.

So Rukia decided she would silently bare whatever the punishment that was meant for her. At first it was simply snubbing her as frequently as they could in any way possible. When Rukia seemed unfazed it progressed to shoving her in the halls. Though short, Rukia could take the pushes and was able to catch herself or the wall to keep from falling. But this seemed to make matters worse and then they went after her things. First her desk and now her shoes.

This torture had been going on for about four months and never relenting. You would think they would get bored or give up eventually, but Orihime was far more headstrong and devious then the airhead front she put out to everyone. As the growing group of girls’ ringleader, she was a regular dictator: charismatic to the people who mattered but devilishly cunning to those who went against her.

But what the horrid overlord didn’t understand was that there was no romance between the two, or at least no reciprocated romance between them. Rukia had been with Ichigo for as long as she could remember.

When she was younger the maids would drop her off at the Kurosaki clinic everyday to be watched by Masaki Kurosaki. They complained that she was always underfoot and bratty but that wasn’t the truth, Rukia was a toddler far better behaved than many twice her age all she wanted was someone to register her existence. Masaki Kurosaki did that and more. She became like a mother to her and what was better she had a son Rukia’s age—Ichigo. The four of them, Isshin included, were like a happy little family from the time the maids dropped her off in the morning until they picker her up at night.

When the twins were born, Rukia pretended they were hers. She had even convinced Ichigo once that she was the Kurosaki first born and he was the Kuchiki youngest but the families traded because she was cuter. This was based solely on the fact that Karin had dark hair like her, or rather like Isshin, and Yuzu had Masaki’s hair. At the time Ichigo, who hair looked like no ones, was a crybaby and ran to Masaki in tears.

It was a few years after that that Masaki died. It devastated their little family and Rukia wasn’t allowed to go to the clinic anymore. But by that time the two of them were nine and the maids thought she was old enough to take care of herself, which she was, but there were other people that needed taking care of more important than her, Yuzu and Karin. Rukia would sneak out everyday to go there, the place she loved—the place her family was.

Ichigo and Rukia raised his sisters while Isshin worked. It was hard for two so young but they were needed and they gracefully rose to the occasion. They grew up faster than most, something Isshin always blamed himself for, but they did it together. They held on to the tattered shreds that remained of the family Masaki left behind so desperately that things, over time, seemed right for them again.

When Ichigo and Rukia got older their relationship began to change as well. They stopped being co-parents and entered into the strange limbo they resided in now. Oddly enough, they were each other’s first everything; first friend, first rival, first kiss. Rukia and Ichigo had been together for so long she couldn’t imagine her life without him in it. She half expected them to just marry after high school.

Rukia didn’t seem to mind the state they were in despite the feelings she held deeply in her heart, what she minded was the harassment that came along with being by his side. He blossomed into a handsome young man that all the girls chased after and Rukia just got taller. Sometimes when they went out on the weekends she was mistaken for a little sister, when in fact she was seven months older than him. It didn’t faze the two of them solely because she got discounts for being under twelve.

She kicked the dirt as hard as she could without hurting herself. It was his fault this happen, why couldn’t he just stay the same as her—ugly to the opposite sex. The dumpster was in sight and she could smell the trash and decomposing food that lingered in there. She sighed again.

Her shoes were in there all right, rolled in dirt and what looked like vomit. Rukia chocked back her own and pulled one out. “Why don’t you just climb in with them where you belong,” a voice called from behind her. Rukia knew that voice, the almighty dictator.

“I have my own to crawl into at home, thanks.” Rukia retorted without gracing her with so much as a glance. She started looking for her other vandalized shoe when the red-haired tyrant took a fist full of Rukia’s dark hair. A scream escaped Rukia mouth and she was thrown against the dumpster.

Orihime sneered at her, “Always a flair for dramatics, Kuchiki,” she mocked as she inspected her hair nails as if Rukia had done something to her. This was the first time Rukia saw how hopelessly out numbered she was on the off chance she decided to fight back. “What did I tell you? Stay away from Kurosaki-kun and we won’t mess with you. You brought this on yourself you know.”

Rukia scoffed, this was ridiculous. She had explained to them over and over again that there was nothing between Ichigo and her, that she was no threat to their chances with him. Dare she say it; Rukia almost wished he would pick one of them so the rest would leave her alone. Jealousy was an ugly thing. “I told you, I’m no threat. Boys don’t like me and Ichigo sure doesn’t so just leave me alone.”

“Don’t be so conceded, Kuchiki,” one of the girls seethed. “The only reason why you aren’t constantly surrounded by boys is because Kurosaki-kun tells them not to. You can’t fool us with this fake humble act.” Rukia wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be an insult or not. She felt slightly flattered that the girl was under the misconception that she was pretty.

Orihime whipped her head in the direction of the girl and gave her an evil glare. Obviously this was not something the girls wanted Rukia to know, but she found it hard to believe so she didn’t. “Listen, Kuchiki, I’ll tell you this once more; leave Kurosaki-kun alone.”

“No, we’re just friends,” Rukia called, trying to get through to them. There was nothing that could be done and she was not about to end their seventeen-year friendship for the likes of them.

Orihime looked smugly from side to side at the girls that flanked her then back at Rukia. “Okay,” she stepped forward, the girls followed in a cat-like prowl. “You forced my hand.”

And that hand hit hard. It knocked the wind right out of Rukia. Gasping and sprawling Rukia fell to the ground. The girls pounced like lions on prey. Kicks and punches flew. Claws came out, as did the nasty words that they had all been calling after her with for the last four months.

All Rukia could do was cry out when she couldn’t hold it in any longer and wait for it to be over. “Enough,” Orihime said. Most of the girls stopped and stepped back, “Enough!” she hollered at the last remaining girls that kept the stomping. They too stepped back. All were out of breath and sweating in the summer heat, smug accomplished smiles on their faces.

Rukia just trembled in pain in the dust of the one sided battle. Orihime took in a deep breath to steady herself, fixed her hair and bent to put her knee heavily on Rukia’s already bruising side. Rukia called out in pain. The dictator took another fist full of hair and rubbed Rukia’s face in the dirt, “Now,” she breathed, “Leave him alone and we won’t have to do this again.”

There was nothing she could say, Rukia could barely breath. She wheezed on the bloodied ground which Orihime took as compliance. “Good.” Orihime said getting up and dusting herself off. “Ladies, shall we?”

And they were gone the same way they came, silently filling out.

It took a couple minutes but Rukia finally staggered up, resting her weight on the dumpster, bloody and bruising. Jealousy was truly an ugly thing. With tears brimming in her eyes Rukia let out a scream of anger. It bubbled up from her chest and exploded from her mouth sounding with such pain and fury that it scared even her. No one heard her, no one came, no one cared.

Damning her tattered, grimy shoes Rukia picked up her bag and limped in the direction of the main gate. She had done nothing wrong, nothing. She hadn’t even fought back and this is how people treated her. Rukia didn’t even recognize half the girls that had beaten her.

Rukia was filthy. Her shirt wasn’t only ripped but covered in dirt and the blood from her lip and scratches. Her knees were scraped up. Her legs and arms bruised. Her rib cage possibly broken in a few places. And her face; scraped and scratched and blood smeared.

She looked up and there he was, the reason for her pain—inside and out. Ichigo had waited for her at the main gate like he did every day. Rukia wished he hadn’t. She wished he had just gone home without her today so he wouldn’t see her beaten because of him.

“What took you so long,” he called when she was still far from him. Rukia just shook her head, it was painful to breath she could only imagine what it would feel like to speak. “You look like hell,” he frowned as she noticed her clothing and knees. But Rukia limped forward; there was no use in running from him, she doubted she could run anyway. “Your face,” Ichigo’s eyes widened, he had not been able to see the bruise forming on her eye or the blood that had been wiped from her chin. He took her face in his hands, looking her over more closely. “Who did this?” he asked, Rukia just shook her head. There was nothing to be done. “Rukia, who did this?!” he called more firmly.

His concerned stung her and she pushed him away. “No one, Ichigo!” she called stepping past him, still in her indoor shoes. “I’m going home.” And that was final, until her legs wavier and the school wall caught her.

“Come on, I’ll take you,” Ichigo sighed, wrapping an arm around her side. Rukia moaned out in pain. “Sorry,” he pulled her up more gently and made their way home.

Rukia didn’t go to school the next day, or the day after that. She felt defeated, her body and her resistance to their brutal punishment for being by Ichigo’s side. She even seriously considered telling Ichigo she wanted nothing more to do with him and to never speak to her again. But she couldn’t. He came to her everyday—before and after school.

Finally, after three days, Rukia returned to school. Her bruises had darkened considerably. They covered her arms and leg with two on her face—one on her eye the other on the opposite cheek. Her brother—and formal caretaker—had called the school and told them she had fallen down the stairs. They believed it and didn’t ask questions, as he didn’t when Rukia told him the same story.

Ichigo had walked her to school but unlike every other day they didn’t speak. Rukia didn’t tell him but Ichigo knew who did this to her. It was obvious from the way Orihime had hinted to it the day after in school when Rukia’s seat next to his stood empty.

Rukia begged him not to do anything, he hadn’t agreed but so far he had done nothing. This put her at ease. It had been three days and the likelihood of him doing anything now, especially when she was in reach of the dictator’s claws again, was highly unlikely.

She sneezed, which rattled her chest and caused an involuntary whimper to escape her. Rukia placed her hand on her side. They had broken five ribs; two on one side and three on the other—or so Isshin said. Rukia felt like they had broken them all.

“Bless you,” Ichigo said, his words hard. Rukia peeked over at him. His face was rigid; jaw clenched tightly, brow furrowed deeply, and brown eyes blazing with fury. He so desperately wanted to retaliate in her stead but he too knew that anything coming from him would mean double hurt to Rukia.

They both felt so helpless.

They entered the school gate; the teacher there pushed away the kids that stared at her with firm words. Rukia took a deep breath that hurt; this was going to be a long day of stares and under the breath murmurs. This was what she had dreaded those two days she had been absent. But Ichigo stayed by her side, unwavering like a bodyguard daring people with his stare to say something.

Ichigo waited for her at her shoe cubby, the cubby that started it all. Rukia opened it. There was no note today, no trash, no vandalism of any kind. Just a clean cupboard that Rukia hadn’t expected. She placed her shoes in their place and turned to see Ichigo’s jaw clenched to the point she feared for his teeth.

Rukia followed his gaze to an unhappy looking Orihime, her lemmings behind her exchanging looks of disgust. Rukia quickly averted her eyes and tried to step away. But Ichigo caught her arm. She looked up at him, fear registering in her eyes. Rukia did not want to be there. She did not want to confront or be confronted. Orihime had told her to stay away and she hadn’t, neither had he. Another beating was coming and Rukia wasn’t even healed from the first. A public beat down was not how she wanted to celebrate her homecoming to school.

Ichigo face softened when he saw the fear in her eyes. Then he did something that she hadn’t expected. He kissed her. Gently yet passionately and in front of everyone even the person Rukia would have wanted least to see it.

He pulled back and brought her to his chest protectively. “Rukia is mine.” He stated firmly. “If anyone dare put their hands on her I will personally break every finger.” He looked Orihime dead her dull grey eyes. “I love her.”

Rukia’s heart raced. She had never heard those words come out of his mouth before, not even in a platonic way, and they sounded so sincere now. With her ear pressed to his chest Rukia could hear the steadiness in his heartbeat which eased her own.

She was his and he loved her. No one could touch her anymore.