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The Royal Palace Brides	By : c0p13r Category: Bleach > Het - Male/Female Views: 9515 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own 'Bleach' and make no money from this story.

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            Ichigo could not remember the last time he was uncomfortable in a single, one-on-one. Zangetsu in hand, he wouldn’t buckle even in front of Yhwach with endless power literally oozing from him or Aizen changing form to meet the extremes of the Hogokyu. Ichigo would just grip his handle, trust in Zangetsu, in his own strength, and know that he had to win. For everyone.
            Yet… a single bride… She was enough to make him quake.
            Riruka sat across from him. Her arms were tightly crossed as were her legs. She sat on a simple wooden chair – a complaint about the blandness of the palace preceded – refusing to use the traditional cushions to sit at the low table. The meal was already laid out; Kirio-san was absolutely punctual with meals, swift to cook and get the food out exactly when her King arrived so that he would not have to wait nor would the food have time to cool.
            It was a shame not to dive in. Ichigo felt his stomach gurgle and ache. Since bearing the responsibility of Soul King, he found his Shinigami hungers would occur more frequently. Kirio had explained that the previous King, before his imprisonment, ate hardily four, five or even ten times a day. “But in the time I’ve waited for him to be freed of the cocoon,” she merrily said while setting down a fresh plate of thick pork slices and green noodles, “I’ve perfected a diet to suit a King’s insatiable appetite!”
            Riruka grimaced in disgust at the odd-looking, strange-colored food, and then harrumphed with a turn of her head. “By making him lose it?” she scorned. “How could anyone want to eat that?”
            And normally, if he had not tried Kirio’s cooking before, Ichigo would have agreed. Yet, for all the unusual appearances of her food, not one bit of his hunger had died down. He didn’t want to eat until he was comfortable with Riruka’s circumstance. She was there in the dining room with him, but it seemed to be more out of duty… or maybe just a chance for her to condemn and criticize the palace some more. She seemed to enjoy that, though Ichigo couldn’t figure out why.
            “Riruka-chan, you’ll shrivel away if you don’t eat!” Kirio shoved a pudgy pointer down at the table. “This food is good for Soul Kings and Shinigami as much as it is for humans and Arrancar! It is made from reiatsu and will nourish you completely!”
            “Ha!” Riruka cracked back with a snide, combative smirk. “I’d starve before I put anything like that in my mouth.”
            Ichigo, who could not quell his hunger a moment more, had already drawn up some of the ramen noodles. “You shouldn’t be picky,” he lectured her, his face stern but compassionate. It was her he was concerned for, though he also did not want Kirio-san offended by his wife’s dismissal.
            “I told you already, didn’t I?” Riruka looked at him, and there seemed to be a certain pleasure in her face, like she was glad to have drawn him into a conversation. Her smirk had shrunk, but she seemed more pleased. She leaned an arm on her risen knee. “I will only have the Usagi Crème glazed donuts with milk tea.”
            Ichigo, deadpan tone, said, “It’s not likely to get that food here.” He tipped over a clump of rice. He wasn’t trying to pick a fight, though Riruka’s sharp stare went to him. Rather than hit her with more facts, he looked to Kirio. “Wouldn’t it be possible to open another Senkaimon?”
            “No, no, no!” Kirio answered with a wagging finger. She was in such close proximity to him that he felt he had to pull back or be smack in the nose by her finger. “While we may make rare exceptions, the density of the Royal Palace’s atmosphere could cause a flux throughout the three worlds. It was not an easy choice to send Orihime-san and Neliel-san through, and that it why there is only a certain allotted time. For simple snacks, you’ll have to come to me!” She beat her fist to her chest proudly, though Riruka refused to give her the admiration deserved. She was the highest quality of chef in any world, yet that was not good enough for Riruka’s fine tastes.
            Observing the spined seed held between his chopsticks, Ichigo decided that someone like Riruka really would starve herself before putting something like this in her mouth. Could he say anything to Kirio-san’s presentation? He had his own aversions at first, but had come to overlook the creepy-crawlies of the buffet. Riruka would not be able to do the same, and her temperament wouldn’t allow her to ask Kirio to make changes. It felt like it was up to him to make a compromise.
            The door opened, and all heads looked. “Forgive my tardiness.”
            Ichigo jumped in his seat and pointed. “Y-you?!”
            Giriko Kutsuzawa stood in the royal dining room, one hand behind his back and the other presenting a balanced platter of boxed treats, a steaming pot of tea, and a cup with saucer. “As requested, the glazed donuts and milk tea from Usagi Crème, as well as a fresh batch of chocolate-frosted, cream-dipped strawberries.”
            It was timing that Riruka could not have planned more perfectly. And now to rub the nay-sayers’ noses in it! Throwing her head back, trying and failing not to grin so much, she said, “You kept me waiting, Giriko.”
            “The layout of the map appears to be outdated.” Giriko moved smoothly and briskly across the room, borrowing a standalone stool as a makeshift table set in front of Riruka. He placed the tray on it and laid out all the contents; opening the box to showcase the strawberries and donuts. He brought up the teacup and poured with an elevated, steady hand, making a show of his presentation. The liquid didn’t splatter. His technique was honed and perfect; fighting was not his strength, but decorum was. “I’ll need to inform Kukaku-san of these changes.”
            Kirio watched with a placid smile. Ichigo was more unnerved. Wasn’t the Royal Palace restricted to… well… Giriko types? Not just commoners, but also the wicked sort. Or was he still wicked? Had death reverted his decisions to betray Ichigo? Ginjo and Tsukishima had come to his aid at a most dire time in the fight with Yhwach.
            “Two sugars as always?”
            “Make it four,” Riruka told the butler. Just as he mastered the art of serving, she mastered the art of being served, holding out her cup with a particular audaciousness that would have Ichigo’s blood boiling if he were to serve her. “I had to skip the tea yesterday. Things are busy up here.”
            “Of course,” Giriko said and eased four sugar cubes into her cup.
            “Hey!” Ichigo exploded when he couldn’t take the calmness of the situation. That even Kirio had been offered a cup – which she accepted graciously – irritated him even more! She was of Squad Zero, positioned to defend the Royal Palace and serve the Soul King! What was she doing accepting pleasantries from an invader?! “I said hey! What’s he doing here?! How’d he break in without the Ouken?! Hey! Stop eating!”
            “Oh my, calm down, Ichigo-chan,” giggled Kirio with a calming waving motion with a hand. The spare donuts – Giriko had anticipating extra company – were offered to him by her. “Here, have a donut. Though not as nutritious as my cooking, it’s fine to indulge every once in a while.”
            “The donuts aren’t the issue!”
            “How uncool,” Riruka rebuked with a satisfied, mocking grin, her own donut halfway to her mouth. “They’re just donuts.”
            “I assure you, Ichigo-san,” Giriko began calmly, taking up his emptied tray now that the spread was finished, “there is nothing suspect about donuts from Usagi Crème. Hm. Perhaps an oversaturation of sugar.”
            “Just don’t eat too much of it, Riruka-chan,” Kirio advised.
            Ichigo felt close to yanking his hair out. It wasn’t about the donuts! “Forget the donuts! I’m talking about him!” He thrust a finger directly at Giriko. “What’s he doing here?! And did he have to use the stupid hammer contraption like I did?!”
            “It wasn’t such a trying effort, Ichigo-san. The Shiba family, though fallen from grace, remained the most loyal of the noble families. They’ve retained and kept secrets of the Royal Palace unknown to most. Having gathered the necessary information, it was merely a matter of setting a Contract to allow me to enter the realm of the Soul King.” Giriko’s one eye narrowed presumptuously on the orange-haired King. “For what is a King to a God?”
            Ichigo did not believe it was possible for a butler to hold royalty in such contempt.
            Riruka took pride like it was her powers that crossed in the territory of the forbidden. She paused with her donut halfway to her mouth, leaning back casually in her seat, acting so indifferent to Ichigo now. “That’ll be all, Giriko.” It was the most pleasant Ichigo had heard her speak before. “I’ll send for you when I have need again. Chomp.” She chewed delicately.
            Giriko bowed partially. “Of course. However, the Contract stipulates terms of limitations. Specifically, it sets limitations to time…”
            “I said go, Giriko!” Riruka snapped in a way that even trembled Ichigo’s spine. She didn’t need Giriko lingering, especially when she had given him leave. It made her look bad after all that posturing.
            Giriko cleared his throat and said, “Very well, Riruka-san.” He acknowledged Ichigo and Kirio respectfully – aside from a glinting glare towards Ichigo – and exited.
            Now that all was as she had planned – donuts and tea in front of her, Ichigo looking up to her, a rival for his attention humbled – Riruka felt righteously regal. Bride of the Soul King would suit her well.
            “It’s not often we have such an interesting guest show up,” Kirio chirped, her beady eyes shifting to Ichigo, her hands nursing the cup of tea left for her. “You have made many exceptional friends since becoming a Shinigami, haven’t you, Ichigo-chan?”
            Ichigo’s face faltered somewhat. He recalled his brief encounters with Giriko. “I… wouldn’t say we were ever friends.”
            “Never underestimate the bonds you forge,” Kirio lectured. She picked up one of the spiky, unidentified vegetables. “Even at first glance, they may seem unappealing, but what they can do and have done for you cannot be overlooked.”
            Ichigo took her words of advice while she chomped down the spined gourd. He thought of his introduction to Giriko, Ginjo and the whole of Xcution. Looking at it deeper than the surface, it was true he could only be thankful for their intrusion of his life. He was given Shinigami powers by the Seireitei, but the Fullbringers brought him to greater powers than before and opened his perceptions. Never mind the fact that Ginjo – or rather Tsukishima’s ability – was pivotal in overthrowing the Quincy King.
            Softly, he set his chopsticks horizontally across the rim of his empty bowl. He smiled; an unusual sight, and it brought Riruka’s attention from her sweet feast just to see it. It wasn’t her he was smiling at, but Kirio. Her eyes rolled off to the other side, and she bit into the donut with a vengeance.
            “Thanks for the meal, Kirio-san. I know you went through a lot of trouble to make it…”
            “Not at all, Ichigo-chan!” Kirio answered. “It is the reason I am here: to satisfy you! I am given nothing but joy that you enjoy it yourself!”
            Ichigo was humble about it, regardless, and insisted his gratitude. He ate reservedly, not giving in to his appetite in front of Riruka. He was glad she wasn’t about to starve herself, and wouldn’t ruin her meal with glutenous actions. However, it was hard to restrain himself, the food was so good. As much as he tried to keep himself from burying his face in a bowl, it was becoming harder and harder not to dive in the more plates he stacked.
            “Where does he put it all?” Riruka observed amidst his gorging.
            “The Soul King is connected to all of reality,” Kirio explained for her. “And that causes constant drainage of reiatsu. My food is full of reiatsu, so it all immediately goes in to bulk up and replenish his drained reserves.”
            So it wasn’t his stomach being filled, but his soul. Riruka breathed a mental sigh of relief. She would hate to see that trim body of his go to waste.
            She suddenly jolted when she realized what she was thinking. Her face steamed up red, the fresh memory of seeing him in the bath popping up, voluntarily removing the big-breasted Arrancar from the vision. Her skin broke out in goosebumps.
            “Not to worry, not to worry,” sang Kirio. “I eat to merely keep up with the Soul King’s needs. Ichigo-chan would need to eat a hundred times this amount to affect his body type.”
            “I wasn’t thinking that!” Riruka lied.
            Ichigo, though having a much larger meal, finished before Riruka had gone onto her third donut; she had taken a leisurely time sipping milk tea and dabbing her lips with a handkerchief. He had been gorging and perhaps would have been done sooner if not trying to hold back his hunger. But after upending a bowl to gulp the ramen broth, he was done. With a great, satisfied sigh, he was done. And smiling with the pleasure of a fully-nourished body. Of course, Riruka was appalled to see the table of what could hardly be considered food cleared and in her husband’s belly. Or soul? The cook explained it, and as a human with a human body, Riruka couldn’t say she fully understood.
            “That should keep you satiated for a while, Ichigo-chan,” Kirio said. “I would say you’ve eaten more than your fill!” She laughed.
            While Ichigo sheepishly rubbed the back of his head, Riruka snorted. “I’d say! Is that how a Soul King is supposed to act at a table with his wife? How embarrassing!”
            Again, Ichigo’s head ducked, but Kirio intercepted for his defense. “A healthy appetite is the sign of a healthy King! Be kind to him, Riruka-chan!”
            Riruka simply harrumphed, bounced her leg over the other, and contemplated the rest of her tea.
            “But if you’re done, Ichigo-chan, you should go see Senjumaru! She’s working on your robes, and needs exact measurements.”
            Ichigo flinched. “My measurements?” His face blanched, for it was still a fresh memory; the first time the Royal Seamstress being a test of wills that he ultimately lost. “You have nothing more than what Abarai, Kuchiki and all of the Royal Palace have already shown me,” she had said amongst the looming tapestries. Her disembodied hands and arms crept through the shadows and shrouds like spiders. “Would you like to lose what they had?” Candidate for Soul King or not – not that he knew at the time – Ichigo had kowtowed to her and surrendered both his fundoshi and his dignity.
            “I-I have to go through… that… again?” He swallowed, his stomach feeling heavy now.
            “Don’t make such a fuss, Ichigo-chan,” the heavy woman said. “We were hard-pressed at the time. Senjumaru-san is a very patient sort.”
            All evidence to the contrary when the door that Giriko had left through earlier burst open by the presence of four familiar arms. They surrounded Ichigo at once, not binding him, but leaving no room for him to escape. They wound and coiled about him, leading him in his baffled frenzy. “Hey! Hey!” He tried to push them, but his two arms were not deft enough to match the wiry limbs of Senjumaru. It was like more than a dozen hands were pulling at him, urging him to leave the table and answer the summons.
            “It seems she has been eavesdropping.” Kirio laughed. “She just can’t help her bad habits!”
            But, unamused by the abrupt abduction, Riruka had kicked herself up off the chair, scattering her food on the floor – a terrible waste – and was poised, if not hesitant, for action. Kirio would be considered the protector in this room, not the pigtailed wife who thought violence was abhorrent and lame, despite her personalized arsenal. She quivered in place, hands fisted and scowl nervous. She swung to Kirio while pointing after Ichigo. “Hey, your Soul King was just stolen! Your reaction time is pathetic!”
            “Come now, Riruka-chan! Do you think if he was in any real danger, he would not be the first to sense it? When he comes to terms with his new omniscience, there won’t be a single soul who could creep into the Royal Palace without him being the first to know.” Kirio’s head turned and fixed on the mess of donuts and strawberries on the floor, lamenting them.
            “Giriko was able to come in easily enough,” Riruka pointed out, but without the snobbish, victorious tone of before. Almost like she was concerned about it. The far-off look in her gaze as she contemplated what that meant betrayed her feelings on the subject.
            Kirio caught the hint, but was tactful about it. She began to pick up the mess, piling it together to be discarded. “Ichigo-chan has been through a lot lately. Even for a Soul King, or perhaps because he is now a Soul King, it is taking a toll on him. This is an entirely different life, even more so than when he took on the role of Substitute Shinigami. He might act fine on the surface – or as fine as he can – but surely, he is struggling to take this all in.”
            Riruka narrowed her eyes on her. “Why are you telling me this?”
            “It doesn’t do well for the soul to act one way, and feel another. He needs some comfort.” Kirio peered up at her, and the smile was sweet. “And he has you.”
            Riruka flinched and blushed heavily. At once, she was on the defense, barricading herself against accusations.
            But Kirio ignored her ranting, instead satisfied on having cleaned up the toppled treats. “There we are. We’re in luck that not everything spilled out. There were still some strawberries in the box that hadn’t touched the floor.” She handed – maybe shoved – the lightened box into Riruka’s hands.
            “What’s this…?”
            “You shouldn’t eat so many sweets, Riruka-chan,” Kirio advised. “Orihime-chan has such a voluptuous figure because she has a healthy diet.”
            Riruka bristled, still with that furious blush, her nervous glower turning into a full, furious scowl. “I don’t need that kind of advice from you!”
            Kirio gave a laugh. “I’m only saying that Ichigo-chan could use some home comforts. My food can replenish and energize him, but it’s an entirely different matter to provide food for the soul.” She rubbed her round chin with a thoughtful noise. “Though I suppose he’s already a soul now.”
            “He’s eaten enough,” scoffed Riruka, coming up to her feet and tucking the pink box under her arm. “I’m done eating, so I’m going to my room.” She beckoned with a dismissive hand at Kirio. “Have someone prepare my bath.” She certainly fell into the role of royalty quickly and well. “The best salts and bubbles.”
            “The bath is always ready,” Kirio said. “No need for salts. Tenjiro’s spring water cleanses as much as it rejuvenates.”
            Riruka paused, and then arched an eyebrow.
            “Oh? Surely you know the royal bath is in Ichigo-chan’s room. You’ve been there.”
            Riruka’s stomach knotted, her lips tightened and her eyes widened before she spat fire. “You expect me to take a bath in his… his…!!” She sputtered and spun away, clapping her hands over her mouth. The sudden heat in her face was making her dizzy. Unusual fantasies began to root in her mind; the usual play of her innocently bathing before Ichigo intruded witlessly. Bashfully, she’d reprimand him while trying to preserve her modesty, and he’d say he could not help but be struck by her beauty. And then would come the worship at her feet by the Soul King… and the buxom other wives would weep that Riruka had him entirely to herself. Ichigo fawning at her feet while Orihime and that stupid Arrancar envied her; Riruka almost caught a case of a nosebleed!
            Composing herself best as she could, though she still hid her blushing face, she said as if there were no other recourse, “W-well, if it can’t be helped…” She began to scurry to the exit. “I-I guess I have no choice.”
            “Of course,” Kirio added, “Ichigo-chan is engaged with Senjumaru-san at the moment. So you’ll have your privacy.”
            Riruka stopped dead in her tracks at hearing this. The sound of her fantasy shattering was almost audible. But to save face, she threw her head back with a haughty laugh. “That’s perfect!” she said much too loudly to be convincing. “I don’t want that pervert peeping on me!”
            “Senjumaru-san’s fitting room in the floor below us. It’s full of shrouds. Keep your wits, or you could get lost.”
            “I don’t want to know!” Riruka shouted back at the helpful and informative Kirio. “Just…! Just leave me alone!” She didn’t allow another word to be spoken before she stormed off. Her feet stomped, her arms out and angular but the box still kept. She passed her own room – or hers and Orihime’s, if Orihime had it her way – and went straight for Ichigo’s chambers. She kicked the door open, unheeding of the way her panties flashed underneath her flapping skirt. And just as the fat woman had promised, no Ichigo in sight. Her chin tucked, and she snorted. “Whatever…” She crossed the room, tossing the box of salvaged strawberries on the bed, and heading out onto the balcony. She pressed her hands down on the banister and observed the view. Honestly, it struck her with severe vertigo and left her breathless and clutching at the banister. It’d be different if she was looking out on a green countryside or – as she had always envisioned – a world of cute stuffed animals. Instead, she was staring down a bottomless blue sky! Somewhere beyond the barrier was the Sereitei, but the boundaries obscured the sight. Five floating plates with cities on them surrounded the cocoon palace she now lived in. She wondered if any of those plates had shop of cuteness she might enjoy…
            “Hmph!” She slid down and put her cheek in hand, looking off to the endless blue. Her finger on the banister tapped anxiously, and she tried to ponder the interests of the Royal Palace. She was human, though, in a nonhuman culture. Ichigo and that weirdo Orihime took to it, but Riruka needed time. She came to be here for one reason, not thinking of it. And for one reason only…
            Again, she scoffed. And then looked behind her to the bed. She blushed softly, hesitated, and then muttered, “Idiot…” She moved purposefully to the bed.
ccc Royal Dressing Room ccc
            “Why do I have to go through this again?”
            “You’re doing better than last time. Perhaps being a king has made you more confident.” There was a wicked satisfaction in Senjumaru’s tone as she circled her naked King. Ichigo stood on a pedestal, clapping both hands over his groin even against Senjumaru’s explicit instruction. She observed his hands, and then frowned up at him. “Do you intend to be grabbing at it all day?”
            Ichigo, as hard as it was, brought his gaze down from the ceiling to look at her. “Huh?”
            “Your arms must be at your sides for an accurate measuring.” Her eyes sharpened, and a hand brandishing a long… dangerous… needle lifted next to her face. “Move them.”
            Still, he hesitated, gulping heavily.
            “You come with an audacious request, even at my behest,” she continued with the glower, “and yet, you impede my duties?”
            Sweating bullets, face bursting red, looking like he was on the verge of bawling as his bottom lip pulled up tight and quivering, he forced his taut arms away to quake beside him. He couldn’t deny that there was some missing etiquette if he made things difficult for her after arriving with a thought in mind for Riruka. He looked right up, trying to imagine him somewhere else. He felt the immodest draft and considered how he hadn’t had a moment’s comfort since waking up, aside from mealtime. Right now, he was hoping he could imagine Senjumaru was not there. But he felt her eyes on him, scanning over his body, especially his… Reflexively, his hands clapped in front of his manhood again, even knowing how that would displease her.
            Yet she did not start with a rebuke; not with a rebuke he had expected, at least. “Should I be concerned of the health of our new Soul King?”
            “What?”
            “Here you are, alone in a dark room with only a woman who has stripped you of your clothes.” She came close to him; she smelled of subtle perfume and her body was warm close to his. He pulled back, but she pursued; invading his space, but there was still some semblance of a gap between their bodies. His pulse rose. “You’ve not reacted as expected. Is there a reason you are averse to your wives?”
            “What are you talking about?!” Still clutching at his privates, he stumbled back off the dais. “It’s got nothing to do with… with Nel, Orihime, or-or Riruka!”
            Senjumaru made a noise less than a scoff, but not less displeased. “You have more wives than them lined up.” A hand whisked softly below her bottom lip. “Tell me, did you feel anything when Nel kissed you, or Orihime gave her goodbyes?”
            Ichigo tensed. He couldn’t lie about it, but still with some trepidation and shame, he said, “Yeah…”
            For a moment, Senjumaru stood in reserved silence, contemplating him. The finger of one hand ticked; another arm lilted lazily through the air. Ichigo’s stubborn inactivity seemed to confirm something to her as she gave a soft hum of thought. “You have so many wives…” She drifted forward. He turned suddenly from her when he felt a touch on his shoulder; one of her hands snuck up on him from the side. That solitary distraction was all it took for Senjumaru to close the gap between them. He stammered, but there was not backing up this time. Her arms caged him; three circled behind him, one ran along his torso with such sensual caress that it could be mistaken as flesh upon his own. “Will you not act unless they act first?” Her words carried on smooth, soft tones.
            It was close! Too close! He pulled back, but the arms blocked his escape. “Se-Senjumaru-san!”
            Her smirk, red lips, taking those last inches between them, no matter how he squabbled. She’d connect and…
            The arms slipped away as deftly as they had come together behind him. The barricade was missing, so he pitched back fully, falling on his back with a thud. Senjumaru’s accuracy was beyond reproach. Had she planned it so accurately, to the millimeter, the moment the second guest opened the door to the fitting room? Not to mention raring Ichigo up to the point of leaping back enough to fall and put his head right at Riruka’s feet: a perfect view underneath her skirt.
            “S-striped,” he blabbed without thinking.
            And Riruka, who had hoped to catch Ichigo unawares and seem nonchalant about passing her gift of salvaged strawberries onto him, was now overwhelmed: having him glimpse under her skirt (intentionally or not) was an easy thing to overlook when there was an eyeful for hers. Her eyes bugged, her pupils shrunk, and her jaw didn’t drop but hung lifelessly even after Ichigo realized his indecent exposure. In her frozen stance, she lost the grip of the box. It fell, and all contents, after smearing over him, rolled onto the floor.
            He sputtered and rolled and tried to collect himself. “Ri-Riruka!”
            But she was already storming for the exit… but not in that angry way that she had a habit of doing. Her pace was brisk, heavy and urgent; she wasn’t making a show of her frustration to let him know that he’d done something wrong. “Idiot!” she shouted suddenly. “Idiot, idiot, idiot!” And then she was gone.
            “W-wait!” Ichigo stumbled, the cream under his feet making him slip and clumsy; holding himself didn’t help things. He reached out – with his free hand – as if there was a chance he could grab her, but she had cleared the room before he could even stumble to his feet. So he groaned loudly in his frustration. He didn’t know how she’d respond to… whatever it was that had just transpired between them.
            “The queen is livelier than you.”
            “I don’t need to hear that now!” Ichigo snapped. He looked down to what had been wasted all over him. The chocolate-dipped strawberries… all the way from the living realm. He knelt down low and picked one up. It was the best of the fallen batch, and it was halfway smashed, courtesy of his foot. It wasn’t a wild guess as to why Riruka would have shown up here with them…
            Evenly, Senjumaru stretched out a long, red thread. “But now that it’s out of your system, you may behave and go to her side.”
            That was sensible. Modesty came second now that this new friction came from Riruka. Not that he was swinging and wagging this way and that for Senjumaru, but he was quicker to move his arms and posture as she expertly and methodically took his measurements. She brushed him a few times. “Accuracy is key.” But she was done soon enough and gave him leave to go. He was blushing bright pink by the end, eyes fogged up by the steam of his embarrassment. She waved him along. “Go be with Riruka, if you think you can make things better just by talking.” Another insinuation; Ichigo didn’t have the strength to confront her about it.
            He left to go get dressed in his usual robes. In the meantime, Senjumaru drifted while pondering him with a grin. She stroked her chin and said, “At least he is not deficient after all.”
            “That was mean, Senjumaru-san,” Kirio lightly scolded. She emerged from the tapestries, her large and overworked spoon leaning on her lean shoulder. The fat of her body had gone – except in bust and buttocks – and she came beside the royal seamstress to look after Ichigo. “You needn’t give him such a push. On his own, he and Riruka-chan will make it.”
            Senjumaru, however, was pleased with her choices. “We’re here for him, after all,” she replied. “He’s not making the moves, so we have to for him. Why else are we here?”
            To this, Kirio agreed, puffing out her chest with an affirming nod.
            Senjumaru then turned to her companion, eyeing her transformed figure. “I had thought you’d finished cooking and had already bulked up.”
            “Oh, this?” Proudly, the Grain King stomped her heavy spoon on the ground with a thud! “Since Riruka-chan is being so obstinate to my cooking, I’ve decided to whip up a dessert for her that she’ll surely enjoy!”
            “Hmph. You’re spoiling a spoiled girl.” Senjumaru’s lips quirked in a subtle grin. “Ichigo made an interesting request on her behalf.”
ccc A while later ccc
            Ichigo had hung around outside Riruka’s bedroom door for close to ten minutes. He was debating whether or not to knock. Something in him told him in was a waste; the human part of him wanted to try, but he gave up with a heavy sigh and made for his room. That seemed like the place to be. He thought of his room, how it was big but so empty…
            Orgies…
            Damn Senjumaru-san. He wouldn’t be having settling dreams for a while, he knew that already. She was so determined to put perverse thoughts in his head that he, honestly, couldn’t ignore. She had got what she wanted, despite his endeavors to prevent it. He expressed the urges and raging hormones when he was being measured. At least she was kind enough not to address it…
            A bath would do him good.
            When he opened the door, he wasn’t as surprised as he knew he should have been when he saw that Riruka was there. She’d been waiting for him. Not to ambush him with admonishment; she’d just been at the balcony, leaning back against the banister, gestating like a… well… when Ichigo had to put it to some phrasing, she looked like…a newlywed wife, waiting for her husband to come home from work. Shy, but intent, reserved and holding onto a look of reproach that could hardly contain the true emotion of seeing his face again.
            She was blushing too, with a soft, defensive pout. “I wasn’t trying to peep at you, you know,” she grumbled with those pouting lips. Her head turned sharply. She had his eyes on her, and she couldn’t take that for very long. The last image of him, of course, flickered in her mind and deepened the shade in her flushed face.
            Ichigo bashfully rubbed the back of his neck, for the fresh memory played in his own memory. “I didn’t think you were.” Bad timing and all, but there wasn’t any real lechery at work; not from either of them.
            Riruka’s face pursed up, like she was struggling internally, like she was fighting the defensive urge to spout out accusations and insults to deflect from herself. Ichigo started to feel bad; she looked like she would give herself a migraine by withholding her instinctive reaction. “I didn’t even know you’d be… Gk!” She would not finish the thought. There was too much of a risk that she’d pass out if she acknowledged it again. Steeling her nerves, she turned back to him, suppressed the urge to mentally undress him, and said softly, “I was just there… to give you something.”
            The box of strawberries… “Yeah, I noticed.” It was hard for Ichigo to say that he’d ruined it by stepping on them.
            “So…” Tucking her chin, staring at him with those big eyes trying to seem hard and mean and unconcerned, she brought out what was behind her back: the single strawberry she had saved for herself. “… Here.”
            Knowing that this was a sweet that was not meant for him, and was the last of her stash… “Riruka…”
            “What?! It’s not like it’s a big deal!” She held it out for him to take and jerked her head to one side, nose pointed up. “Just take it!”
            Ichigo moved across the room, and stopped an arm’s distance from her. He didn’t pick up the strawberry.
            “Well?! What are you waiting for?!”
            “You saved it for yourself, right?” He lifted a hand in declination. “You didn’t get to have one, so you should keep it.”
            Riruka felt her heart hammering violently against her ribs. It was that smile again; that warm, lifting smile that broke the usual façade that drew his eyebrows down. She knew she wouldn’t be able repress her feelings if he kept looking at her like that! She’d melt! “Just take it! I’m giving it to you!”
            But still, he refused; a bit of an itch against her shouting in his face, but he remained that she should have the preserved strawberry. So stubborn! So…! So…!! She’d gush like Orihime if she let this back and forth go on, though she wouldn’t let him win this. Therefore, she did the only thing she could do: she took back the strawberry, complained about his stupidity, brought the tip of the fruit to her mouth, and bit off just a tiny bit. And then it was held out to him again while she turned away, like she was offended that the strawberry was still in her presence.
            “I’m full now,” she declared. “Take this and do whatever you want to with it.” Throw it away, preserve it for later, or… That unspoken third option was what made her glance his way through a part of her eyelids. She did not want to seem eager, but… When his smiling lips opened so that he may sink his teeth into the full remainder of the strawberry…
            She swooned. Not an elaborate, goofy swoon that she’d never come back from, but the heat in her head short-circuited her body, her limbs surging and dying all at once. Her knees folded inward, and she would have fallen if Ichigo’s quick reflexes weren’t in time to catch her. “Hey, are you alright?”
            Of course I am! It’s just the altitude! she desperately wanted to say. Instead, finding his face so close to her own, his eyes only upon her, arms trapping her against him… His body felt so firm and hard, like a statue but warm. And while she lost her composure, she sensed that he too realized their sudden closeness. Perhaps the closest they’d ever been together. She’d kept him at a careful distance since first shining a flashlight on him and analyzing him with a bona fide label of HOTTIE. And he always was respectful… or maybe afraid to invade the personal space of women; they liked to toy with him so much.
            And Riruka still had a chance to save herself, to shove off of him, insult him, accuse him of using any excuse to grab her just because she tripped. Instead, her hands came up slowly and touched on his forearms, confirming he was there and this was not a dream or hallucination. Hesitantly, almost experimentally, her touch crawled up his bare arms, igniting a set of goosebumps and chills. He reacted, tightening his arms around her. She felt his muscles bulge and hold her more firmly; he was not willing to let her go, nor were either of them willing to look away first. This was a moment. The moment. Riruka knew it, and she didn’t even waste it to spit in the imaginary faces of Orihime and Arrancar bimbo!
            As carefully as she could, without drawing attention to the act, she moved her tongue against her lips to wet them. She wanted him to know her lips and remember them, even amongst his other wives. She would learn how to share him, but she’d also possess him. He would think of her…
            He felt her hands. They were smooth and quick and igniting; they brought such shivers to him that he didn’t even realize that her fingers were going up the back of his neck now; tingles directly to the brain. Nel had glomped him so much, he was expecting Riruka to do something similar by now. She was waiting, though. It was his turn to make the move. Senjumaru-san had told him the moment would come. And the moment felt right. He might not have a knack for romance, but he had the knack of timing. Less subtle than her, he licked his lips and swallowed nervously. He slowly gravitated toward her, hearing her inhale expectantly. He wasn’t misreading the signs.
            “Ichigo-chan! Riruka-chan!” Kirio burst into the room with great fanfare, one arm extended to feature the banquet of sweets behind her. She’d trimmed down for this spectacle, appeasing to human palette of taste and sight. Surely not even Riruka-chan would have qualms. “I proudly present to you a dessert fit for a king and his queen! And abundant in nutrients and taste! And…!” She stopped short, realizing that there was an electric atmosphere in the room that her presence had discharged.
            Ichigo-chan was standing stiff in the corner like a punished child. His face was heavily red and glowing from a fresh sweat. Despite his apparent need to breathe, he pursed up his lips, turned up his chin, and focused on the ceiling. Back at the balcony, Riruka hadn’t his reflex of ultra-speed, and had fallen into a deep crouch, also turning her back to the doorway. She pulled in her knees to her chest and squeezed her arms up to her side as she coddled her hot face. She tried to compact herself more and more, trying to shrink from sight and hide away in one of her dollhouses. Unable to do so, she was forced to just squat there in a quivering mess.
            Kirio lost her smile to the confusion that the two sweets-lovers – Ichigo’s like of chocolate was part of Urahara’s files – were not giving any attention to the cakes, puddings, cookies, and candies she had delivered. She cocked her head to one side. “Hm? Have I interrupted something?”
            “No,” Ichigo stupidly replied.
            “Not a thing!” added Riruka sharply. She got up, though her limbs were still stiff; she moved mechanically, sweeping past Kirio and the table of snacks. She didn’t turn, but she could feel Ichigo’s eyes on her; he turned from the corner to see her go. She wouldn’t look back, though there was the urge to do so. If there was a way to communicate to him… There might be privacy elsewhere in her room…
            “Stupid!” she shouted without turning… and snatched a donut on her departure.
            Baffled, Kirio glanced between them. She felt certain now that her timing was most inopportune.
ccc Tomorrow morning; Kukaku’s hoise ccc
            “Is… is it possible to bend the rules this time?” Giriko wasn’t used to begging, but he knew the irksome wrath of Riruka when he didn’t meet her schedule.
            Kukaku was unmoved by his pleas. He was interrupting a very leisurely smoke. “Rules are rules,” she said dryly. “You’re the one who’s a stickler for them, aren’t you?” She held up the scroll sent down by Senjumaru two days ago, which permitted single access to the Royal Palace. Explicitly, it charged a great deal of reiatsu – lest an enemy gain possession of the entry – and was restricted to only once-a-week use.
            Sulking, Giriko observed the fresh donuts acquired from the Usagi Crème. “Oh dear…”
ccc Up in the Royal Palace ccc
            While her husband ate breakfast with vigor, Riruka doubled over her grumbling tummy. But she wouldn’t let it show! Unless Kirio made more of those amazing donuts – she would not request them out of foolish pride – she refused to eat this un-cute meal. “Dammit.” She glared at the doorway expectantly. “Where’s that Giriko?”
ccc
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The Royal Palace Brides