His sister Sadako, aged twenty-three, was engaged.

To be married.

Before he could properly comprehend the meaning of such turn of events, he was informed that his presence was required at two parties: One, thrown by his hyperactive and obsessive-compulsive mother, to celebrate the event with a few dozen of her closest friends and a pair or two of her worst enemies. The second party, to be attended only by six or seven of his sister's closed friends, was to be a much better one by his standards.

Kaiko was going to be there. She was a full three years his senior, small and slender, with ivory skin and eyes so deep and dark that he often imagined drowning in them—that is, when he had the nerve to get close enough to her to look her in the face. She had come home with Sadako from Hokkaido after the first term was over. Sasaki Kei, who had before then not paid much attention to females, was suddenly and irrevocably struck. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, from the oval tips of her fingers to her slender ankle. And so quiet, so solemn. A contemplative goddess. "All this from a fourteen year old," Sadako had snorted. "I should come back home to go to school; you're going to be overrun by repulsive girls if they find out what a pushover you are." Even though she did not make good on her threat, it was okay. The boy was steadfast in his one-sided love and even when he was swayed it was never for long. Not that he ever made his devotion known to the object of his affection.

"You're not slick, Kei-chan," Sadako sniffed as she grabbed a bag of chips and tore into them with un-womanly abandon. "She knows you like her already. The world won't implode if you say hello."

Kei grimaced. "I might," he said. He didn't bother to ask how his cover was blown.

"That would be pretty messy."

He scowled at her. "Easy for you to say. I'd think you'd be sympathetic."

She stepped behind his chair and hugged him. "I know you're adorable. If she can't see that—and she is a good friend, I mean this in the most affectionate way—fuck her."

He smiled. "You always look out for me, sis."

She kissed the back of his head. "Without you, Satoshi would be my only brother and I might have been driven to fratricide before we turned ten."

"Is he coming?"

"Who knows. Doesn't really matter as long as he comes to Mother's party. Actually it would be a lot easier if he didn't show up. He's always showing off."

Kei chuckled. For as long as he could remember, he always felt like a middle child. Satoshi and Sadako, even though they were twins, despised each other. Possibly from birth. Had he not interceded in many of their spats, they would have become fistfights. This earned him Sadako's affection and Satoshi's enmity for some reason, although he was always careful never to pick a side. He wondered how it was even possible that they could be so different.

"Anyway, Kei-chan," Sadako said, settling into the chair across from him, "make sure you get back by ten. We're going to karaoke, so you'll need a ride."

"I might not be able to get away before then. I'll take the train," he said.

Sadako's eyes narrowed. "You're not on another vision quest, are you? Where will you be, at the museum?"

He shook a playful finger at her. "Don't worry about it. It's not like I run away from home every time I get restless."

"That doesn't mean that at some point you won't." She shoved another handful of chips into her mouth.

"I promise I won't do it until after the wedding," he laughed.

She eyed him warily, swallowed, then broke into another trademark smile. "Just make sure you call." She paused. "Tonight, not when you actually run away," she added.

The vision quest Sadako referred to was something of a family joke. His mother always referred to him as "artistic and dreamy," while his father merely shook his head and smiled. They were not surprised in the least when he failed to pass the Center Exam. In fact, to his chagrin, they'd been expecting it. His father, who seemed solemn but always had an amused glint in his eye, talked to him confidently. "You don't make serious decisions lightly," he said. "This is one that will affect the rest of your life. Take your time if you need it. I kinda like the idea of being able to call my son 'ronin'."

Kei could only be grateful they had that kind of faith in him. Because he sure as hell didn't.

Which was why, after his shifts at a local restaurant ended, he tended to wander. There were few nights he actually went straight home from anywhere. He lingered in parks, loitered at the train station. Taking in the sights, smelling the air, hoping it would quell the restlessness that was slowly taking over. And he had always been restless. For as long as he could remember.

He blamed the gone people. Nagano was teeming with them, people who were there but somehow weren't. Kei often wondered if other places had the same problem, or if it was merely a localized infestation. When he was much smaller they never paid any attention to him. He would watch and they would simply go about their business; he would point them out to Satoshi and Sadako and they both reacted incredulously. Satoshi, of course, was much meaner about it.

Later, every once in a while, Kei would manage to get one of the gone people to talk to him. At times the ones who appeared elderly would tell him stories: some short, some long and detailed. Others, usually younger, would comment on the weather, or his clothes. And then they would wander off, their edges blurred. His skin would prickle long after they were gone.

He grew up aware that he was special. No one else seemed able to see them, talk to them. But the reactions of his siblings made him secretive; he never even attempted to tell his parents. As a teenager, anxious and unnerved, he spent hours poring over books about ghosts, psychics, psychic phenomena. He never found the answers he was looking for and eventually gave up. But that seemed like a lifetime ago. A year out of high school and he was going about his life as normally as he could. Only he'd stop or be stopped by one of the gone people from time to time and spend a moment chatting. They still had interesting stories to tell, after all.

The one on the train tonight in the seat in front of him, however, didn't. Thirty-ish and balding, he looked at his watch often and demanded to know everything Kei knew about the current state of the stock market. When Kei only shrugged, the man groaned exasperatedly and turned around in his seat. After a moment or two he would begin to fidget, turn around and begin firing off questions again. Even though they were alone in the train car, Kei deemed it safer not to indulge the man and remained silent.

That is, until they heard the roar. The first time, Kei could hardly be sure he heard it. It was faint and high-pitched, but the businessman jumped, clutching his briefcase to his chest and looking around wildly. Kei was about to ask him what the sound was when they heard it again: louder, and closer.

The door at the back of the train car slid open and a girl stepped inside. She sat in the back row closest to the door, her eyes forward. An errant strand of jetty hair hung between her large, violet eyes. Just as her gaze fell on him, Kei felt his skin prickling. Then the front row of seats collapsed in—or were bashed in—by some unseen force. Then the next row. And the one after that. And the roar was now ear-splitting.

So was the businessman's scream. Kei blinked and looked back at the girl.

Now there were two of them, twins. The first was wide-eyed and exited, still sitting in her seat. The other was in dark, old-fashioned clothes, a white cape with black diamonds etched along the bottom over them. And she was holding a sword. Before Kei could ponder where the sword-bearing second came from, she was moving forward—so fast it barely seemed her legs were moving at all. The blur that was crushing the seats—he could see the edges of its form and it was huge, inhuman and had sharp, blood-stained teeth. And a huge hole in its chest. The businessman continued to shriek and Kei covered his eyes. This isn't happening this isn't happening this isn't happening

There was a cry, not unlike the war-cries you'd hear in old movies, and a resounding crack. And the roar, just picking up, faded. Kei swallowed and uncovered his eyes. The monster was gone. The girl was already striding back toward her twin. No. She stopped in front of the businessman, eyed him impassively, then took her sword out again. The businessman whimpered and cringed.

"Stop!" Kei yelled, launching out of his seat. "He didn't do anything wrong!"

The girl looked at him, violet eyes narrow. "I know that," she said calmly. Then she tapped the businessman's forehead with the end of her sword—the dull end. It left a character where it landed, but it was already fading. Kei could only watch as the man closed his eyes and faded into nothing. He looked at her in horror. "What did you do?"

She tilted her head, examining him. "What is your name?"

"What did you do to him?" he asked again, his voice unwittingly higher.

"I helped him to cross over. It was no good for him to stay here. What is your name?" The last words were slower in a way that conveyed she was unwilling to accept anything but an answer from him.

"Sasaki Kei," he said.

She gazed at him, as if looking for something. "My name is Kuchiki Rukia," she said. "We need to talk."