A/N: I couldn't help but go for this theme. I work at a Zoo, so the concept of animals and cages is an intriguing one for me to work with.

Theme #1: Tiny Cage For A Golden Bird

The space was suffocating.

Rukia was alone in the room, white surrounding her. Pure, unforgiving white - boring into her mind, making her lower her eyes to lessen the painful glare. Cut off from everything, it felt as though nothing could cross that chalky expanse. Not just people, but feelings, sensations, emotions. No one would reach her. No one could. And really, no one should. The forbidding space existed only in her own mind, and it terrified her. It became her self-inflicted punishment when she was feeling the most guilt - to stay in the center of the floor, thinking on all she had ever done wrong, fighting off the nausea and fear of being surrounded by nothingness.

Sometimes it was too much for her to take, which might have shamed her if she had still thought it mattered. It was then that she would sit against the wall, huddling near to the slit of light, feeling slightly more secure against the solid stone, imagining that there was someone just on the other side. That she could rap on the unyielding granite and hear an annoyed, groggy voice reply. She couldn't stand the emptiness.

She had become used to a much smaller cage - a closet in which she could not even spread her arms, a warm body just feet from the door. During the day she would be let out to unfurl her wings, as much as she could, but always in his company. Wherever he went, so did she - regardless of where it was or what the occasion happened to be. There might be a Hollow, she always insisted. I have to be there. Even though she was allowed to fly, her wings were clipped. By herself, or by him? No, not by him. It had been her choice. It had. Her feathers weren't cut with a blade, but ripped out by her own talons.

And yet, she never resented returning to her tiny cage. She had no need to fear. She was surrounded by life and warmth and emotion, no one was cold or detached. No judging eyes watched her. But it was tainted, always - by her ever-present weakness which made her wings heavy, and the knowledge that it could not last. When it came time for her to leave, she did attempt to fly - as fast as she could, away from him, to protect him. But her wings were in such a state that she did not get far before her other keepers discovered her desperate flight.

Like a well-trained bird, she returned to their hands, and was placed in a much larger enclosure. This was no closet - the ceiling towered over her, the walls too far away for her to touch. There were no warm blankets, no over-large pillow, only cold unforgiving stone and harsh light and shadow.

There was no longer a need for her to tear at her wings - the collar, a bird's silver band - proclaimed just how free she was.

And when it was over, when it was all over, and he came - to return her to that tiny cage, that small, comfortable space, she fought down the instinct to flutter back, as she always had. And she looked at him, and told him she was staying, she had made her own decision.

He had smiled at her. And agreed. It's time to regrow your feathers.

She had once known just what it was like to choose how high she could soar. But, after a time, a captured bird can forget just how far they can truly go.

He had taken away her cages. She would need to find her own way again, without the command of someone else.

When they said goodbye, his eyes were warm. Whatever small fear she still held died a soft death in her chest.

You can fly better than any of them. You've just forgotten how.

All the same, she knew if she ever was tired of flying, she had a tiny warm cage waiting for her. The only difference was her wings would never again be clipped. They would be strong, with long beautiful feathers, shining blue and black and gold.

Somehow, she thought he'd like that.