"The lowest of the low."

Those strange passing glances and muffled whispers. I can see them staring. It's so obvious how they've disregarded discretion and thrown it out the window without a second thought. Trying to make eye contact is pointless; they'll only whip their heads away before our eyes ever meet. Even with their voices hushed and muffled by their hands, I can hear the words as clear as the frozen lake that chills sakura petals when they finally float down from the frost-nipped tree branch.

"Just some South Rukon trash."

They think they know me, but in truth, they don't know a thing. It's funny, how the things people think they know turn out be the same things that blind them from the truth. I can't blame them entirely though - they are half right, after all.

Still, its not the same with Rukia. People bow in her presence, servants even go so far as to call her "Lady Rukia". All because of that one decision, when I let her go. And when she left. I've thought back on that memory so many times, wondering what I could've possibly done differently. I don't even want to think about it anymore.

"There is a difference between you and I."

I suppose it's class. That's what he's always telling me, anyway. Class is what separates people like him, and people like me. Of course, it's all complete bullshit. Heres what I think. I think it's the pitiful need to feel better, perfect even, and to treat others like their nothing; that's what draws the line between the upperclass and the regular people. It's kind of like the thick, yellow police tape that you see in front of crime scenes. It reads DO NOT CROSS DO NOT CROSS DO NOT CROSS over and over again until you finally just walk away and turn your attention elsewhere. Life is the same way. The wealthy don't want the poor to come even a step near them, so the poor don't dare try. It's almost kind of shameful.

"Be proud, as someone who, after being struck by this power, is still able to retain the form of his body."

This power? This power? Who exactly does he think he is?

Sometimes, I try thinking like nobility. Not because I wish I was; that kind of living doesn't appeal to me anymore. No, the reason why I do it is because that way, I might be able to come up with a good and legitimate reason for why they, the noble, act so high and mighty. Is it just for the sake of doing it? Probably, but I'm not quite sure. Is it power? Power can be taken away in an instant, just like that. The frozen hands of death, they can steal away power from the dying breath of a soul reaper. And, in the Seireitei, death is something that is always close, prowling around right down the hall. So why base your morals on something as evasive as power? I still wonder what it is that could possibly make someone believe themselves to be an absolute superior to everyone else. I still haven't found out what it is.

But, at least there is one thing I do know. It's something I've been told so many damn times, something I can always rely on hearing as I walk down the stony paths of the Soul Society.

All I am is trash.

~I~I~I~I~I~

The ice crushed beneath my feet with each step. Walking was nice sometimes. I wasn't really trying to get anywhere, and there wasn't any real purpose to it. I was just walking. Kuchiki Taichou says that aimlessness is a waste of time, and maybe it is, but at least it gave me a chance to think about things other than paperwork. I should've been in the office now, helping the captain with the morning duties, but I'm sure he wouldn't have minded me not being there. He preferred to work alone anyway.

Jagged icicles hung from the trees, like frigid daggers. There was a time when the trees in the Seireitei were beautiful, not dry and rotting like they are now. I remember the spring, how long ago it was, when I could look up at them and catch glimpses of pink blossoms nestled in glossy green leaves. Then, in autumn, the trees would shed their foliage and let it all fall to lightly kiss the ground, adorning the Seireitei with pinks and greens and almost every other color in the rainbow. Spring was a happy time, summer and fall were too. The memories of those seasons are fleeting me now, and the details are a bit fuzzy, but I can still recall a vague image of emerald grass, and unfrozen rivers. And I can just barely remember red roses, sprouting from the ground and flourishing all the way to the horizon, one bud at a time.

Now this place is barren. Winter is all that this place has known for a long time. Actually, its been ten years since the last rotation of the seasons, and I think I'm slowly forgetting exactly what spring looks like. In the beginning, when this crisis was still new, we all thought that spring was just taking a little longer to come around, and that there was nothing to worry about. But weeks went by, and then months, and then years. Hail wouldn't stop plummeting from the sky, and all traces of lingering hope slowly diminished. Finally we came to the conclusion that there was something wrong. Terribly, in fact.

We are stuck in an everlasting winter.

No one knows the cause of it. All I know is that the flowers don't grow anymore, and the ground stays coated with thick ice throughout year. The sidewalks are covered with sleet and snow, instead of petals and deciduous leaves. Tree branches are skeletal and tangled in each other like a cluster of spiderwebs. And the weather is brutal. It never snows; snow would be too merciful. It hails more often than not. That's why the streets stay empty, and all I can ever hear is the echo of my own two feet against the hard stone beneath me. Today just happened to be one of the good days.

"Renji."

Shuuhei's voice disturbed the silence, and I turned to see him. He wore a long overcoat over his uniform to shield himself from the biting cold that the Thirteen Court Guard Squads were now so familiar with. In the beginning, the Head Captain decided that even though these cold circumstances were inconvenient, the squads would still carry on normally. Still, everyone had a hard time keeping up with work, due to squad members falling ill more frequently. Even now, all of the Gotei 13 face difficulty, and things don't run as smoothly as they use to. In other words, we're a hot mess.

It's funny though, because the only thing I've felt for the past ten years is cold.

Shuuhei's neck was covered with a long scarf. At least he could afford one. Since the beginning of this whole winter crisis, the prices for things like coats and scarves skyrocketed. Supply and demand, I guess. So basically, if you weren't rich, or you didn't have special connections, you were freezing to death. Like me.

"Hey," I replied flatly. He fell into step beside me, and shoved his hands in his cozy little pockets.

"Are you faring well?" He knew the answer. I was wasn't faring well at all. I was cold. Still, I said the same thing I've always said.

"Yeah. Sure, I guess."

I knitted my brows together and lowered my head as a heavy gust of wind blew past us. It might as well have been metal blades, slicing through the air.

"That's good..."

We turned a slight corner and strode past a bony looking tree that was bent over oddly. Its bark was chipped and a whole lot of it was pooled at its base. It was warped and mangled, but still somehow evoked the remembrance of summer. Apparently, it was the same with Shuuhei. He smiled a little and looked up at the tree.

"I remember the magnolias that would bloom here. They were...purple, I think." I didn't know if he was right or wrong; I couldn't remember exactly what color they were myself.

He squinted and smiled again. "Momo used to love them." His smile dissolved, and his eyes lowered. "It's not fair."

We had always told her to dress warm, and she'd always listen, but even so, the cold still found a way to strike her. Momo had such a frail and delicate build, her body was never meant for conditions like the ones we were facing now. Her life had been claimed by the cold, like many others had. It's was deaths like hers that had forced paranoia upon Byakuya and caused him to put Rukia on lock down. She wasn't allowed out of the manor that much these days, but when she was allowed out, she was made to wear an oversized coat and over sized mittens to match. I guess Byakuya was doing whatever he could to keep from losing his sister too, and I couldn't blame him.

"Nothing's ever fair."

We passed a long stretch of dead grass, crystallized by frost. The last time this land was green and alive was a decade ago.

Not a rose has blossomed here since.