She was in a snow-covered panorama.
Frost had gathered onto the wiry branches of the gnarled tree. A withered leaf hung in its upper branches, swaying for the last time, and slowly - oh so slowly - fluttered down in the winter wind.
The winding country path she had strayed down so many times before was obscured by a thick layer of immaculate snow, only a few tufts of grass peeking out. The girl trudged through the thick white mass leaving footprints behind her and leaned against the wooden fence of the last meadow. Her thoughts whirled in her head.
Who would have thought that things would turn out this way?
Kaien-dono was gone. Miyako-dono was gone.
And it was her fault. She killed him. She killed her own lieutenant.
Tears welled up in her violet eyes, threatening to slip off her eyelashes and expose the emotion she had struggled against for so long.
Rule one of the Kuchiki household: do not let any emotions stand in your way.
Noticing this, her whole body froze with an unknown dread and she tightened her clutch on the uneven wood, its sharp edge cutting into her flesh in the unlikely hope that the pain would chase the tears away.
She deserved to be punished.
So why was she not punished? Why was she being praised? Being congratulated? Why were people saying to her 'well done, you did a good job'?
She didn't understand. She had done something wrong, and no one was listening.
Rukia Kuchiki was alone again.
And this time, she had no one to rely on.
She smiled a bittersweet smile at how ironic everything was.
Then sighing, she turned away from the line of sparse trees scraping at the horizon and ambled home, head bowed. Humble. Modest.
Guilty.
And all alone.
le. papillon. blanc.