"...and the office table goes here!" Rukia was explaining to Ichigo the layout of Squad 13, in the best way she knew how. Drawing bunny pictures.
She turned to look at him. His eyes looked dull.
"Uh... one question, Rukia", he finally spoke. She crossed her arms. He better not... "why do your drawings suck so much?"

And he was on the floor.
Rukia grinned, flexing her fist. Boy, that was a good punch.
"What did you say?!', she asked, menacingly.
She always looked angry whenever he insulted her drawings, but in reality, she enjoyed his company. And his attention. Even his stupid opinions. Because he was Ichigo. There were too many ways to explain why she felt like this about him...
Could the main reason be his looks? He was tall, his eyes were always set in determination, they were golden brown, his hair looked so casually messy... his body... lean but muscled, his height... she could go on and on.

Could it be his personality? His naive, stupid teenage boy-personality, but he was in no way stupid. He was kind, and he cared about the deceased...

Maybe it was both. Coupled with his burning passion to put his life on the line just to protect his friends. It was admirable. She should learn from him in that regard. But she wasn't too far off.
She couldn't imagine not putting her life on the line for Ichigo.

She had done it before, anyway. Back when she was going to be executed, she willingly went onto the platform making the one request that Ichigo would be saved.

When was the last time she had been able to sit with him, side by side, without Orihime there?

There was nothing wrong with Orihime. Rukia found the girl to be funny, and a wonderful friend who needed help with her self esteem from time to time. She was humble, and unique, and crazy. But, thinking back to that night in the rain, when Ichigo had crouched protectively in front of her, pulling his Hollow Mask down over his determined face...
All she could think about was how much she wanted to swap places with Inoue.

Did I just think that? Rukia wondered. She was so not the kind of girl who relied on others to save her. Unlike some people...

"Uh... Rukia?", Ichigo asked worriedly, as the black-haired girl leant her head down, resting it on his desk, her hands balled up by her head. This was so stressful. Her personality kept changing. Why did love have to be so complicated?
She sat up, and looked Ichigo dead in the eyes. He sat back a little, alarmed at the sudden proximity of her face. Her massive, luminous eyes... Her clear, soft skin, her smooth raven hair...
She leaned in closer to him until their faces were inches from eachother.