It had been so long.

Seventeen months.

Seventeen months of no spiritual power. No ghosts, no fighting Hollows, no contact with Soul Society. Seventeen months without the feel of Zangetsu in his hands or the familiar uniform of Shinigami. Over a year of pity-filled stares from his friends. So many classes during which Inoue and Ishida would jump up, making hurried excuses, and run off to fight a Hollow that he couldn't even sense.

It felt like a huge part of him was missing. And it was torture.

But there was another part of him missing, as well, and it resided with one person. The person who had given him the ability to protect. The person who had made sense out of his ability to see spirits. The one person who had been by his side through everything. She was the one person he would kill for and die for.

The person who had been ripped away from him when his powers vanished.

Seventeen months ago.

He hadn't opened his closet since then. It might have been in his room, but that space was hers and only hers. That closet would open again only by her hand.

And that, it did.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her as she slid it open. The place in which she used to sleep was covered in a thin sheen of dust, but that problem was nothing in light of their reunion. Ichigo hadn't stopped looking at her since he won the battle against Ginjou. He was afraid that if he took his eyes off of her, she'd disappear again.

His heart had stopped when he'd turned to see her there behind him. The rain had soaked his hair and caused it to fall into his eyes, but there was no mistaking it. That was Rukia. And her sword was in his chest. He could feel that familiar rush of spiritual power and it was like he was taking a breath for the first time in seventeen months. He didn't think he'd find a better feeling for as long as he lived. Which, now that he had his Shinigami powers again, might not be that long.

He'd made quick work of Ginjou in order to greet some lost friends.

There were a lot of Shinigami that had accompanied Rukia. Byakuya, Renji, Toshiro, Kenpachi and Ikkaku. An overwhelming feeling of nostalgia overcame him at seeing them. The one thing that really struck him, however, was how much Toshiro had grown.

Everyone had changed slightly, but there was no mistaking that it was them.

Everyone had gone to the Urahara Shop after the battle in order to debrief and take care of injuries. It had felt overwhelmingly good to fight again—to feel Zangetsu's power thrumming through him and the rush of shunpo. He never thought that he'd be so happy to hear Byakuya say "Senbonzakura." But even if the deadly pink blades had been aimed at him, he wouldn't have cared because he had his powers back.

After everyone had caught up, the Captains and Lieutenants had gone back to Soul Society in order to report to the Head-Captain. Only Rukia had stayed behind on orders from Yamamoto to stay in Karakura Town and monitor Ichigo's progress until further notice.

And so there they were.

"I can see that you've put this space to use," Rukia muttered as she slid her finger across the inside, gathering dust. She looked over her shoulder at Ichigo with an arched eyebrow.

He shrugged and lied, "If I had done anything with it, you would've been pissed when you needed it again."

She started taking blankets out and shaking the dust off of them. "What made you think I would need it again?"

Ichigo knew that she was referring to the seemingly permanent loss of his powers. "With us, anything's possible."

She hummed in agreement and arranged the blankets back in the closet. That's when she noticed the box in the very back. She grabbed it and sat on his bedroom floor, pulling the flaps open.

Ichigo watched as she squealed in delight and pulled out her old belongings. "I can't believe you kept these!"

Rukia started thumbing through her old manga and reverently pulling out the other memorabilia from her first stay in the World of the Living. Ichigo watched her the whole time, feeling warm as her smile grew with each item. He had kept them because something in his gut told him to. When she'd first vanished from his life, looking at anything that reminded him of her hurt. So he'd thrown all of her items in that box with every intent of throwing it away. But as he held it over the trashcan, he felt ready to throw up. So he'd taken it back up to his room and placed it in the closet before closing it for what would be seventeen months.

By the end of the first month, he'd been glad that he kept those things. It made him feel like he still had a connection to her. If he'd thrown away those things, there would be no proof that she'd ever entered his life and rocked his world.

"Thank you."

Her voice startled him. "For what?"

"For keeping these. And not giving up hope," she replied with a slight coloring of her cheeks.

His expression became sheepish. "To be honest, I had. I was a mess. It was torture without…my powers." And you, he added silently.

Suddenly, he was on his feet, hands gripping hers. He tugged her up, ignoring her confused inquiry, and crushed her to his chest. It felt incredible to be close to her again—almost better than getting his powers back. She hadn't grown and inch and was still tiny compared to him, so his arms fit easily around her. She smelled the same—like jasmine and sunshine.

It didn't take long for Rukia to return his embrace. She locked her arms around him, burying her face into his chest and inhaling deeply. She'd been crushed, seeing him there in the rain, ready to completely give up. She couldn't imagine what he'd gone through—finding new powers only to have them cruelly taken away again. And so, without waiting for anyone's orders or permission, she'd rushed forward and slid Sode no Shirayuki in between his shoulder blades.

Her whole body tingled when his amber eyes looked, not through her, but straight at her.

Seeing him fight again, almost as powerful as he used to be, lifted the largest weight off her shoulders.

And now he was here. And they weren't going to be separated again.

"It was hell," she murmured against him. "Without you."

He held her tighter. "At least you could see me."

"I visited."

"I know."

"How?"

"Inoue, Chad, and Ishida."

"Hm."

Normally, they'd be launching insults at each other and exchanging blows. But tonight wasn't a night for fighting—they had weeks ahead of them for that. No, tonight was a night for catching up on all the time that they had been so cruelly robbed of.

Ichigo pulled back just far enough to look down at her. Her faced stayed pressed against him. "Rukia."

She glanced up at him, vibrant indigo eyes seeming to glow. "Yes?"

He swooped down and kissed her soundly.

She didn't hesitate to respond. Her lips tasted of cherries and desperation. He gripped her small waist, tugging her completely against him. She made a small noise at the back of her throat as he opened her lips with his. He drank in everything about her—her scent, her taste, the feeling of her hands as they buried themselves in his hair. It was a sinfully divine intoxication.

Their passion wound down as exhaustion from the day's events set in. Adrenaline faded into a strong need for rest.

Ichigo pulled back and rested his forehead against hers, breathing hard. "We should go to bed."

Rukia nodded, also gasping slightly. "I'm going to go change into some of Yuzu's pajamas."

Ichigo changed into some boxer shorts and a t-shirt while she was gone. He was just sliding the closet door shut when she walked back in.

Rukia frowned. "Am I not sleeping in there?"

Ichigo shook his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "The bedding needs to be washed—it's still dusty. You'll just have to sleep on the floor."

Rukia's mouth dropped open. "I don't think so! You sleep on the floor and I'll take the bed."

Ichigo plopped onto the bed, slipping under the covers. "Make me."

Muttering under her breath, Rukia climbed into his bed as well, making sure to kick his shin in the process. She grinned at hearing his yelp.

He propped himself up on an elbow and glared at her. "You evil little midget."

She went to smack him, but he grabbed her arm and pressed it onto the bed before leaning down and capturing her lips again. This kiss wasn't as fire-fueled as the last one, but was instead full of unspoken words and promises of tomorrow.

Things are going to be different now.

We can't be just friends now.

I'm never letting you go again.

Rukia let her eyes stay closed after he pulled away and settled in beside her. A small smile curved her lips as he threw an arm around her waist.

For seventeen months, Ichigo had laid awake in bed for most of the night.

For seventeen months, the race of spiritual power in his veins had been woefully absent.

For seventeen months, he'd been in agony over the words he hadn't said, the things he hadn't done.

After seventeen months of pure hell, Ichigo was happy.