Author's Note: The tiny scene of the first paragraph was inspired by a single image used by xxmiki for "Life is Like a Boat by Rie Fu" and her video can be found by searching for that on youtube. My thanks go out to Shadewolf7, Truantpony, ForbiddenME, Pinky357, Immortal Vows, Chellythemadhatter, Insomniatic95, Sallythedestroyerofworlds23, UNTensaZangetsu, Xdark FangsX, BobTheSexyTurtle, Ichigoforeverlove, Ennaalemap, Makaykay15, Kaze05, Splash into Forever, War90, Yellowwomanonthebrink, Bakane, Night Flower, Hallmarktrinity, Tiffany Park, Snowcrystals and Neristhaed. SPECIAL THANKS to Truant, Kaze and Makaykay though, for the regular reviews that keep me going. :D

That night, Rukia dreamed she was walking through fields of snow. A single black butterfly danced across the sky and lit on her outstretched hand. She couldn't hear what it said, but it brought a message for her. And now she watched herself walk slowly away into the frozen landscape.

She woke.

It was dark still and she sensed the cold, though she had never felt it as a discomfort. When she sat up, moonlight picked out ice crystals on the tips of her fingers, which glittered as if the stars had fallen across her body as she slept. A deep awareness crept over her.

Nearly a year after Kaien's death, she had realised that things were not going to change and, unless she returned to the Gotei she would languish forever in the walls of the Kuchiki mansion. She was not a shadow and she was not a ghost, and though she might have embraced death in the months after, she was still here, which meant she had to decide, perhaps for the first time in her life, what she wanted.

The blade of her zanpakuto had flashed in the candlelight. It was another day, some years ago now; another day when she had woken before dawn and decided that she would go on living.

She had been surprised to find the blade clean and unrusted, and troubled too. It meant that he had had servants attend to it without her knowledge. And she should have been aware of something like that.

She had left the house before the sun rose: a short walk, past the shrines and through the woods, up to a small clearing overlooking the river where it ran from Rukongai into the canals of the Sereitei. From here it was sometimes possible, if the wind was right, to smell the smoke from the town. Today though, the air was fresh and cold.

First form. Strike across, then slash down.

Second form. Release the blade, then cut behind. Turn and finish. Crouch for: third form.

Nearly a year since she'd picked up the blade and yet nothing was forgotten. Her body moved effortlessly from one position to the next. Always it had seemed to her a dance. And, in the midst of this, a kind of quiet. This made sense to her. The duties of a shinigami had been spelled out to her in laws and rulebooks. There was a simplicity in this, and she was through with thinking too hard about the questions Kaien had asked of her, like what it was she wanted and what it was she hoped for. Nothing more than this.

The sky turning blue behind her when she paused in her practice, holding the blade vertically before her. She closed her eyes and concentrated. Nothing. And, with a sigh, re-opened them.

She returned to the forms with a new vigour.

It was perhaps another hour more before she became aware that she was no longer alone.

"What did you choose?" asked a woman's voice. No-one else would have been able to hear it, but it fell with radiant clarity between the draw and sweep of her blade. Rukia didn't answer. The presence alone was a delicious relief, but she was afraid that, if she stopped, then it would withdraw and she would be plunged again into that silent solitude. "I have answered you," it said: "Will you not do the same for me?"

"You know what I chose. Are we not – together again?" She fell down into a crouch again and, this time, hesitated with the blade upright before her. It might be her imagination, but it seemed to her that it was paler now; silver-white instead of its usual steely sheen.

"Were we ever together?" asked her zanpakuto. She caught a hint of remonstration in its voice. "You turned your back on me for the space of a year."

"You know why I could not serve in the Gotei."

"Because you were afraid."

"Is it really that simple to you?"

"Nothing is simple, Child," said her sword: "I can only relay the truth in your heart, and the truth is that you hid and let others turn your fate this way and that way. My fate too since neither of us can sever this connection."

"Would you want to?" Rukia asked, a little startled at the thought. The shiver that ran through her nearly broke her concentration and she forced herself to relax and close her eyes. The voice was immediately clearer.

"I do not want. You should understand that by now, Rukia, I am only your intentions. But you seem too preoccupied with how to use me to actually stay and listen."

"Are you angry, Sode no Shirayuki?"

Rukia's awareness had moved to somewhere else altogether now. Another woodland, but this one, otherworldly and on a scale that dwarfed the delicate springtime groves of the Sereitei. It was far from tthat sweet, haven. An arctic landscape. The trees here were vast firs, reaching high into a moonlit sky. Everything here was too large: trees like skyscrapers; a moon like a spotlight and stars that seemed so close you might be forgiven for thinking you could pluck them from the sky. A crisp layer of new snow lay on the ground and she walked barefoot through it, feeling the soft crunch. Ahead of her, walked someone else, but it was impossible to see who; the figure's outline changed and reformed with each step:

"Are you angry, Rukia?" The sword spirit echoed back to her.

"If you will not fight beside me" –

"Then we will fight as we always have, won't we?" Sode no Shirayuki stopped and turned towards her. In truth though, there was no-one there. The shape of the spirit was formed only by a thin fall of snow where it was dripping from overlaiden branches above. Flakes caught the moonlight and, in these it seemed that there was, briefly, the outline of a woman's face; the soft curve of her lips; the flashes of light in her eyes. The rest of her body was formed by an ever-moving cloud of snowflakes, lifted on a light breeze from the forest floor, so that it seemed her robes and hair were silver-white, changing their length and form with every shift in the otherwise still air. "You have never wanted to fight by my side, Rukia. You craved my power. I have given it to you whenever you have asked for it, but you do not trust me."

At another time, Rukia might have answered differently, but the heat of Kaien's blood was still too fresh a memory.

"Why should I trust you?"

"Isn't it obvious? Because we are going to live together and we are going to die together."

Rukia lifted her gaze to meet the eyes of her sword spirit:

"I am going to return to the Gotei Thirteen. And you will come with me."

"I will obey, my Lady." The spirit bowed, her face torn briefly away by the wind as she ducked her head. It reformed as she rose: "Tell me this though, why did you come searching for me today? Was it because you thought you would somehow find him here? It has been too long, hasn't it?"

A shiver passed through Rukia and, for the first time, it was as if she could feel all the cold of the frozen landscape and it weighed on her. She swayed where she stood. The spirit before her only sighed and reached out one insubstantial hand. Feather-light fingers brushed her cheek: "And I had hoped it was because you had forgiven me."

"I'm – sorry." Rukia spoke in a whisper, hardly daring to voice the words: "But I cannot forgive you."

"It will be lonely for me here."

"I will return" –

"No." The zanpakuto sighed again: "Do not be afraid, Child. If you call on me, I will be there, but you cannot come back to this place. Not until I call you."

Rukia stared at her in disbelief. It was as if she had been told she would be fighting with one hand tied behind her back. A shinigami could not break with her sword spirit. How could she make any progress? That night after she'd first received her zanpakuto and had stood alone with her sword in hand in Byakuya's lodgings; back then, she had been comforted by the knowledge that there was a certainty and a purpose in her blade. Now, even that was being taken away from her:

"When?" she stuttered: "When will you call for me?"

"When you can trust me again." The landscape had started to move. Snow was rising from the ground in long silvering streams, obscuring the figure of Sode no Shirayuki until she was just one more shimmering shape amongst the beams of moonlight.

"I'm sorry!" cried Rukia: "I didn't mean" –

"You were honest with me," the breeze hissed: "At least try and be honest with yourself. Then, when you have made peace with me, at least then you can….."

Rukia's breath caught as she opened her eyes unwillingly.

Sode no Shirayuki was gone. She was back in the woods near her home and dawn was coming swiftly from the east. She stared at the zanpakuto lying across her lap. The blade reflected the fresh light of sunrise, but it was, she thought, a harsh world if she was being asked to face it alone.