Standard disclaimer applies.
Author's notes: Hello people! I was looking at my window and the idea for the drabble came up, so again, pointless fluff. Please, don't mind the silliness of this, I'm just like that, heh...
The afternoon sky of Karakura city is always the same every day; at least, it seems so to him. There's no doubt that it is a beautiful sight. How can it be not beautiful when the hiding sun makes the sky look like it is layered in red and yellows and oranges, in blues and pinks and soft purples? It is a picture perfect with blended hues of bright colors.
The city is barely clouded this particular day, and the weather is rather pleasant, with those occasional fresh breezes that make the fallen tree leaves dance on the concrete streets. And nonetheless, watching this scene on a daily basis on his way home from school makes it something monotonous and insignificant to Ichigo. Yes, it is a pretty view, but it doesn't quite catch the fifteen-year-old's attention anymore. Boring, he'd usually think.
He hasn't truly enjoyed that much this kind of sight in a while either. He's not sure how long has it been since the last time he's stopped to watch the sun setting. Perhaps he'd done it in the past, when he was still a child; but he doesn't feel like starting to count time.
And yet, somehow here he is again, standing next to Rukia and watching her as she falls entranced with the scenery before them. It is beyond his comprehension why something as simple as the day ending fascinates her so. He wonders vaguely about all these things as he takes his time to glance at her. Why does the purple and pink sky make her grip the railing tighter, open her blue eyes very wide, and smile as though she had seen the most beautiful thing ever, anyway?
Rukia's black hair moves with the wind, sometimes hiding her profile from his view and other times letting him ponder at her faraway expression settled on her face. It's suiting really, he thinks absently as he studies her pale face, for death itself to be watching the day die away. He realizes there's nothing out of place.
She pauses briefly to look at him apprehensively. Her eyes are earnestly questioning him and demanding an answer as though he is supposed to know what she wants just by staring back at her. There's no frown, no glare, or smirk in her pale face as she confronts him; it's just Rukia looking up at him with blue, blue eyes. At this, Ichigo sighs wearily in an almost resigned fashion. Inwardly, he just wonders whether she does this only to see him admit defeat. That wouldn't be strange coming from a woman like Rukia.
"Alright, alright," he answers the female shinigami's unsaid inquiry reluctantly. He scratches his orange haired head with his fingers, and then pulls both hands inside his pant pockets and stares ahead. "Five more minutes, Rukia. Only five, got it?"
She smiles, satisfied. "Okay."
Ichigo can almost sense the smile on her lips growing wider and imagine the stress line on her brow as it dissipates into nothingness. Rukia happily hums a song that he is already familiar with and that he remembers hearing whenever she is feeling content. And he can't help but think that it's been too long since he last stopped to do something as simple as watching a sunset. But there they stand together as the sun goes down. And they will be there to greet him goodbye until the night falls upon them.