-oOo-
When the Healer returns to the waiting room, face grave, Rukia thinks she already knows what he has to declare. It's obvious, not only because the Healer takes the care to avoid looking her elder brother in the eye; Byakuya himself only glances at her once with unreadable eyes before he sweeps out of the hospital room, his Captain's haori flowing behind him like a rushing river. The flat silence that follows his departure is only punctuated by the Healer's stuttered words, his empty assurances that the Fourth Division would spare no resources in caring for her condition.
Rukia only sits in her hospital bed, still dressed in her standard uniform she wore when they found her collapsed in the Thirteenth's training grounds. She waits patiently for the Healer to apologetically bow and politely leave her by herself in the empty private room bought by Kuchiki esteem. And then, quietly, she turns to her bedside table to grasp for her white blade, all the while knowing that this is one enemy she cannot fight with a sword. But still, Sode no Shirayuki is her soul's immortal companion, a steadfast shadow that will never desert her even as she slowly fades away into nothing.
When she closes her eyes to blink away saltwater, she feels the sleeves of winter gently embrace her face to welcome her into blissful sanctuary.
"Kuchiki Rukia, you are dying."
-oOo-
(233 words)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yeah, I've always been an IchiRuki fan. However, I've been pretty out of touch with the Bleach fandom until it was revitalized by the live action Netflix film. Please accept my humble, beta-less offering.
Also, I'm going to apologize beforehand; I am not a consistent updater, if I update at all. This story has a few chapters prewritten already, only because it's a drabble, so you're guaranteed a few updates in the next few weeks.