The last time she’d seen a grin like that, Rukia thought, Captain Zaraki had been watching his subordinates make mincemeat out of Academy students who wanted to join the Eleventh.
Granted, Ichigo was trying to help the jibaku. Even if he was chasing the earthbound spirit like a maniac.
“You can’t take this place away from me! It’s mine! My father should have given it to me!”
“Hold still, you idiot!”
Glass shattered. Walls shivered. Rukia waved dust away from her face as she walked through the abandoned hospital’s deserted halls, shaking her head.
“I was going to drink pink champagne! And drive a pink convertible! And pick up blonds in pink Victoria’s Angels skimpies and pink, pink lipstick who would-”
“Eww!” Ichigo’s flinch sent him through one of the more worn-out walls. He pulled himself out of the rubble, growling. “Get a clue! You’re dead! Nobody cares about your perverted sex life!”
Honestly, it was sad, Rukia thought. This would be a soul’s last moments on the world he knew, before he was dropped into Rukongai, where no one would care who he’d wanted to be on Earth. This demi-Hollow wouldn’t be in real trouble for months yet. She should call Ichigo off, come back here another night-
“And what’s with the pajamas, you dorky samurai fanboy?”
You did not just insult the uniform. Seeing red, Rukia leapt into the cloud of dust. “Sai!”
Breathing hard, Ichigo watched the hell butterfly flutter away. “You couldn’t have done that ten minutes ago?”
“Why?” Rukia smirked, raising her chin in noble disdain. “You looked like you could use the exercise.”
Ichigo snorted. Shook his head, and looked back to where the jibaku had been. “Two years, I’ve been listening to him scream. Glad that’s over.”
About to head for a broken window to find a way out, Rukia had to stop in her tracks. “Two… years?”