Peach Plum Pear
Ichiruki. AU. Not!Angst.
For @blooming-stars: ‘rukia as a sassy bartender that ichigo has a crush on ; )’!
This is loosely based on the idea that they would find each other in any universe and both just know that they were meant to be. (So, soulmates, I guess…) Enjoy! Thank you for your patience! 1286 words.
Work is good.
Work is that kind of monotonous printing-press process, right now, and it’s good. It’s good, isn’t it? It’s getting him money. It keeps him busy - keeps him up at 6 AM every morning and until 12 at night - and really, that’s all he could ask for.
Other things? Less good.
The feeling that his one-person apartment was a two in a past life, and that the cupboard in his bedroom used to be full of dresses and sunhats and some colour, and maybe something artsy - not like his monotone business suits and dress pants (and that one old t-shirt from his childhood that reads nice mood, or something).
Work is good for the next few months.
Then, even work begins to feel misplaced. As if for all the daily routines he does he’s still missing 5 hours of something that should have been there next to him to begin with. And, yeah, Kurosaki Ichigo has never been a man of fate (or faith, for that matter). But he did grow up seeing ghosts at 3 AM cowering underneath his bed covers so, yeah, he thinks that he can handle a little bit of…
Déjà vu, he could call it. Yet he has a feeling it’s a little more unavoidable.
(Maybe, a little more catastrophic).
Déjà vu is still the only explanation he has for why he finds comfort in the wooden beams of a bar a few blocks from his workplace.
It’s on one of those days where the rain mixes with the scent of asphalt to create a heady, warding concussion, one of those days where he feels the burden of something inexplicable. (One of those days is becoming most of those days, but he doesn’t want to title the unexplained just yet).
There is a tingle of embers under his skin as he walks through the doors, so he thinks that, maybe, the downpour has drenched his nerves, too.
(Or rather, until he catches sight of a 4”8 figure of regal lethality, he realises that he has previously had few embers to compare it to).
She starts a wildfire.