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In the medical tent, Ichigo is telling Rukia his head almost got blown off by a succession of sneaky, laser-quiet cero fired off from a distance while out on a hollow hunting mission.
“Yes, it did! I dodged the last second but it grazed me,” he says, currently hunched over a cluttered wooden table, unwrapping heaps of gauze and slapping them to the side of his head. Rukia is tiptoeing around him, reaching and helping him secure the gauzes with unevenly sized medical tapes.
“You didn’t die,” observes Rukia. She’s dabbing the sides of his covered wound clean with a cloth.
Ichigo gives her a dull look. Rukia returns it with a hard glare. Mission-commander Rukia is frightening and usually very extremely exacting.
“You were sloppy,” she continues stiffly, another observation. “How come you didn’t sense that?”
“I was falling!”
“And you can’t re-orient yourself?”
“I’d like to see you try re-orienting yourself while falling miles from the ground with the gravity doubled.” Ichigo has his shirt off, his torso freshly bandaged.
Rukia shakes her head. Outside, their division members go about their routine while trying to be politely quiet around them; captains and vice-captains don’t usually go on a single mission. She also knows they frequently stop just behind the heavy tent drapes to try and listen to them.
The 13th division’s med tent is known to be never a very crowded place, Rukia keeps their perimeter safe and Ichigo, on expeditions, doesn’t let his members stray too much or get heavily hurt, and sometimes, it's the other way around, Ichigo keeps camp and Rukia leads operations. She turns to him, tired.
“That is a stupid thing to write in your obituary," she says seriously.
“What the hell!? You’re already thinking about my obituary?"
“Who else is going to write it?”
“Rukia!”
“It’s Captain Kurosaki to you,” she says hotly. She is still wearing her haori, her hair is tied in a side ponytail, and her eyes are very bright.
Ichigo pauses, and thinks he can’t really be mad about hearing that.
“Sorry, Captain Kurosaki,” he says to her, his sour mood already melting away.
Rukia nods, sighs. The delicate slope of her shoulders falls, and Ichigo feels the urge to carry her back.
“Don’t embarrass me, I need you to be more careful,” she says.
Rukia says something else about him not dying under her command, and he thinks that’s affectionate enough.
Ichigo pulls a folding chair and sits close to her, their kneecaps touching. They make do with the little light. He stretches out a bit, groans a lot, and then looks at his captain intently while waiting.
They would be off their shift soon and become married again but there's hardly any improvement. Rukia would still boss him around and he would still make their bed and fluff their pillows but he could finally stare at her openly, glassy-eyed, and she would kiss him.
“But…just please don’t think about writing my obituary…” Ichigo says quietly, some time, while staring at the medicine cabinet and stockpiles of gauze and bandages; there are still mountains of them. It's good. That feels good. He and Rukia trained them well.
Then he looks at her closely, there’s a strange spark in his eyes, “...or why don’t you just come with me, when I hunt that sneaky hollow bastard tomorrow morning? Why don’t you protect me?”
Rukia looks up and sets her pencil down. Ichigo, very close beside her, starts to clear out her desk, caps her pens, sharpens her pencils, and clips her papers according to their degree of urgency while she decides. They have five more minutes before their shift ends.
“Both of us leaving the camp is risky-"
Ichigo laughs and chides. "They’re not as defenseless, and we’ve cleared out anything seriously dangerous within 10 miles at least. We will know if something comes up, we will be careful.”
He’s right, she thinks, she has read their very positive progress notes; he has done a lot of improvements in their division. His request, and he probably has something else in mind is not entirely off-putting. She is not technically breaking protocols if his request has permission, hers.
“Come with me tomorrow, let’s get away for a moment?" Ichigo asks again softly.
She is quiet, and after a moment, says, but it’s almost a yes anyway— says, “I’ll think about it.”
After, Rukia gave out security instructions while Ichigo waited. They skipped dinner, washed, and then went straight to their shared tent.
Eight hours later, Ichigo sneaks into the mess tent where the prep tables are, startling two division members busy making breakfast. He bags two rationed meals and four bottles of shōchū. He nods his thanks and goes to meet Rukia outside the perimeter of their camp. They’re heading to hunt that bastard-sneaky-laser quiet hollow.
“Hurry up! I didn’t train you to be slow!” Rukia shouts, ahead of him. Her hair is in a billowing mess. The sunshine is good, and the sky, very blue.
Ichigo meets her, and scowls, they argue some more about something then walk away together. When they reach the treeline, Ichigo links their hands. Later, they would return with her riding his back.
The two shinigamis tasked to guard the perimeter think, it’s not a mission, it’s a date between these two and they will definitely make out.
“While surrounded by bloody, disintegrating escaped adjuchas?”
“Yeah, that’s why they call it a kink.”