Back then, there had been one thing that troubled her more than any other and that was the question of whether she really belonged there. Byakuya had shaken her sense of purpose. She understood the sacrifice he was demanding. She had had a rare glimpse of it when her friends had died in Rukongai. Back then, she hadn't cried. Back then, it hadn't felt so hard because she'd had Renji. She had known, on some instinctive level, that she couldn't let herself get too close to the others. They were different and she would lose them.

Yet Byakuya had shown her something else. As a shinigami she would deal in death. Not the death of mortal souls who would drift back into the cycle of the balance, but the death of death-gods themselves. She had been granted immortality and yet she, like the others, was choosing to risk that. And for what? For a sense of duty? For a place that was her own?

She didn't fear death. Her tutors at the academy had admitted that they didn't understand what it was for a death-god to die; they knew only that the soul was taken out of the cycle permanently. It had seemed like fair recompense. More than anything, she had learnt to fear an empty eternity. She had already lived out nearly three human lifetimes in Soul Society. To die meant very little to her, but to die doing something she believed in? In truth, she desired that, finding, in it, a way to make sense of her life so far. But at what cost? Why sacrifice her emotions, her desires, her very self, when they were surely the things she wanted to salvage by choosing a path that gave her purpose.

She didn't realise she'd spoken aloud until, through a mouthful of food, Kaien answered her words back to her: "Why are you here? You're here to train."

She looked up guiltily. As much as she was reticent to voice her doubts, he had at least given her an opening:

"No. I mean, why am I here? Here in the Gotei Thirteen. Do I even belong here?" It wasn't such an unreasonable thought to voice out loud. People asked it about her behind her back every day. Kaien looked troubled, though not troubled enough to stop shovelling food into his mouth:

"What do you think?"

"I don't know."

He swallowed and seemed to think for a moment, brushing crumbs off of his uniform. Then he stood up and addressed her:

"Rukia, do you know our captain's philosophy? He believes that there are two kinds of fight in this world. There are fights for your life and fights for your pride. But I'm not sure he's right. I think, when it comes down to it, all fights are for just one thing."

"What's that?"

"Your heart."

She screwed up her face:

"Ugh. That is so lame."

"No. Listen. Do you know where your heart is, Rukia?" He was speaking urgently now. She had assumed this was just an attempt to make her feel better with some pretty platitudes, but there was a strange light in his eyes as he awaited her answer. She was no longer entirely sure if it was a metaphor.

After a moment, she slipped her hand inside her kimono just above her breast:

"Here."

"No. Not like that." He stepped towards her and slipped down on one knee so that their eyes were level. He had the darkest blue eyes she had ever seen and when he spoke of the things he believed in, they glittered like sunlight on the sea. "Here," he said, and he held up his fist between them. She stared:

"What's that?"

"When two people meet, a heart is born between them. When we die, our bodies dissolve and turn back into the reishi that makes up Soul Society, but our hearts live on. They live on with other people." He straightened: "If you were the only person in the world, Kuchiki, your heart wouldn't be anywhere. Right now, it is in the protection of your friends, which is why the most important thing to remember is this: don't die alone." He stepped away from her, hooking his hands into his belt, and looked away across the valley. The wind blew seams of dark colour into the grass and Kaien's voice was carried to her across the distance: "Don't die alone. Don't you dare die alone, Rukia Kuchiki."