"One hundred times I wanted to kill myself, but I always loved life more."
Candide, Voltaire.

Don't own any Bleach.


So weak.

We children, grown up with the delusional, yet traditional, fairytale ingrained in our minds, are always set up towards a life below expectations. A fairytale always ends with the protagonist's success. A perfectly oval, if not circular lifelong journey which can only be lived by a character on paper or in mind. We humans and souls of past humans, Shinigami, can never even fantasize to follow such a fable. Our lives trek along some oblong, twisted and warped shape, starting out as a blessed child and ending far, far from there. I remind everyone to keep such concepts in mind while reaching for goals that seem absurdly far. Be prepared for failure, prepared for life that is not achieved as planned, be prepared to come face to face with the disgust you feel when you see someone centuries below you.

And when Byakuya first adopted me, in hopes of reaching redemption in my sister's faith, I tried to warn him that he was set up for failure if he placed any hopes in me. I know that when grey eyes meet violet, he thinks of the soft eyes Hisana had, not the icy, cold ones plastered with a forever startled look to a small and thin face - mine. His hard grey eyes remain wistful, and though he usually is able to successfully hide behind that stoic mask, I can see everything. The pain. The love. The bitterness. And worst of all, the hope.

I can see that he is trying to recollect his pride as well.

It happens to be that a year after his beloved Hisana dies, he finds the one thing that could have saved her. Can you imagine the hatred he would, and should, feel to me? He is forced into a corner, to adopt this uselessness into the clan on the word of his deceased wife, or to forget about the past, forget everything. He chose to restore her pride, not his. And had he done this a year earlier, it would have saved her life. All I do is serve as a constant reminder, and constant goading, of his failure in saving the most important thing he loved. So there you have it, a catch-22, the mighty Byakuya Kuchiki is stuck with a thorn in his side, one that he cannot rid himself of, but one that will always bring him pain.

Compared to Hisana, I'm just a copy. Not even a copy. Like a picture with a translucent screen over it; you feel like you can almost see but can't. I've seen paintings of my sister, faded in color and ink, but still beautiful. Her delicate, noble smile, constantly hiding the regret that was brewed because of me. She has shining light purple eyes, like mine except faded into a soft, pained yet fragile look. It's no wonder that Byakuya loved her.

I can understand him. Or at least I think I can.

I understand that the more he ignores me, though it feels like stabbing to the heart, t's so that he can avoid those stabs for himself. Because of that, I'm willing to receive them, without complaint or sulking. Though the Kuchiki clan would gladly have me thrown out, and I'm sure he would too had I not been his deceased wife's last wish, I would be lying if I said that I was happy. Even if I'm not wanted here, like a ridiculous clown in the palace of an emperor, I would say in my defense that I'd rather not be surrounded by stuck-up nobles as well. Had I not been dragged away from the life I'd already grown accustomed to into the status of a copy, I would be with Renji, and my other friends from the Shinigami Academy.

It's no wonder that life as a Shinigami fascinated me. It's no wonder that salvation tempted me. It's no wonder that mo matter how much I wanted to die, I still loved life more. Perhaps it wasn't my life that I loved, but rather my friends': Ichigo, Renji, Orihime, Byakuya.

Byakuya. Yes, that's it.

That's the one thing that keeps me fascinated; it keeps me stuck like a fly to flypaper.

Everyone thinks that they know him, understand him. But they don't - I don't either. When we meet each other in the barracks, I stare at him in awe, when he averts his eyes and strides on. This, I think I understand. I think.

The fact that life is so fleeting, so beautiful and unpredictable is what makes it desirable. Living on the pages crafted by Anderson or Aesop's fables makes you a pawn to the author's imagination. However, living without pride or sense of direction leaves you a sulking wanderer, stuck in no-man's-land and waiting for the death that's already practically there.

Finding the balance.

That's why we live.


Setting down my pen, I looked over my shoulder at the fading sun, hiding sheepishly behind the towers of the Sereitei. I was writing on the wooden floor of the Squad 13 barracks, waiting for Ukitake taichou to return from his patrol for the report that I was preparing to give to the Squad the next day. The evening air wafted in, chilly and light, with the faintest tinge of cherry blossoms on the move, and I stood up to go find my coat.

As I slid open the door leading to the barracks, Kaien fukutaichou stormed in, upset. His face was red and his hair messy as ever. A few of the squad members followed a couple yards behind him, sulking about his upstart and grumbling complaints. One man was bleeding from his shoulder down to his elbow and I jumped up, ready to call a Fourth Squad member to heal him. He shook his head, warning me not to come any closer. Kaien turned around. I bowed as he brushed past me, without even acknowledging my presence. The three followed behind him, but nodded as they past me and I bowed in return.

I wonder what's his problem. Perhaps they had run into the trouble-causing Hollow again. However,Kiyone Kotetsu ran down the corridor, following Shiba fukutaichou, but halted when she saw him and Miyako together. Instead, she turned towards me and inquired about the report.

I shook my head.

She frowned and looked back at the couple, who had dismissed the other Squad members. 3rd seat Sentaro Kotsubaki was gathering the remaining Squad members and leading them back to the barracks, taking over for Kaien fukutaichou. My stomach growled and I prepared to join the members for dinner back at the barracks, picking up my pen and parchment and tucking them safely in my haori. Kotestu frowned as she watched Kaien and Miyako enter the Captain's office, and grabbed my arm before I could leave, "Rukia-san, Ukitake taichou just returned. He wants a few words with you."

The girl patted me on the head. "Hurry." Her brown eyes were narrowed.

I ran over to the Captain's headquarters and knocked quietly. Inside, I could hear incessant arguing and Miyako's agitated voice trying to calm things down. Kaien fukutaichou yanked open the door, and I could tell that he was ready to yell at me to leave, but Ukitake stood up and greeted me before Kaien could pour out his anger on me.

"Rukia-san," he put down his tea. I stared in wonder that his palm and tongue were not scalded from the boiling drink. "Come in. We were just waiting for you."

Kaien grumbled and sat down on the wooden floor. Miyako stood in the corner, waiting for her dismissal, which never came; she followed suit after her husband and knelt on the ground beside him, leaving room for me to walk by. The atmosphere was tense, heavy with frustration, and I could feel the humid tension like sticky moisture in the air.

I bowed to the Captain and waited for him to say something. Making sure not to appear too cocky, I kept my eyes on the floor and took Sode no Shirayuki out of my belt and placed it beside me on the ground. I could feel three pairs of eyes, boiling under my skin, waiting for me to respond to a question that hadn't been asked yet. "C-captain-"

"Rukia-san. Would you mind joining Kaien and I on a mission tomorrow to investigate the Hollow's appearances around the Rukongai?" His stature looked as though it could not take "no" for an answer. I tried to remind him warily that his health was still on the verge of deteriorating, and that perhaps he should rest while the Squad took his place, but he ignored my rambling and repeated the offer, this time with an impatient and almost imperative look.

"O-of course, taichou."

I bowed down, burning with mild shame that I had rebuked him for his weakness, and waited for my dismissal from the dismal room.

Little did I know that things would only begin to slide to more dismal grounds after that day.


Nii-sama always required for me to report back to his Squad if I ever had any missions. I always wondered why he would want me to bother him with such unimportance, and I supposed that it was probably for his long reports back to the nobles in the Kuchiki clan that he was ordered to give every month or so.

Having obtained permission from fukutaichou, I put on my overcoat, which Miyako had given me from the real world half a decade ago, and packed up my pens before heading back to my chambers to get ready. Tucking Sode no Shirayuki tightly under my belt again, I kept my hand on her hilt as I made my way back to the barracks - following fukutaichou's warning about the stray Hollow's hiding and appearing in the Sereitei recently.

The moon wobbled in the sky, like the lanterns that Renji and I carried on New Year's day in the Rukongai District. We used to strapp glass bottles with fireflies inside to help us see during the raid of the food stands and holiday festival treats on every New Year's night, when all of the impoverished families set out food and sacrifices for the kami that promised a prosperous year. Had the poor farmers and their wives known that us scoundrels ate the food they set out, we would have been beat until our backs were raw, and forced to work on their farms to repay the little food we had stolen.

Lost in my reverie, I stared in awe as the moonlight reflected off of the slick sides of the tree leaves and cherry blossom petals, a poor but fascinating reenactment of my Nii-sama's Zanpaktou. The leaves and petals speckled the pathway and I took careful not to step on any cherry blossoms that were strewn across the pavement.

They were so delicate, and so fragile.


Beauty is paired with fragility.

Only if you give in to the ugly and the despicable, can you truly be strong in every aspect of the word.

I will not argue that Nii-sama is strong and pure at the same time, but my definition of strong is not in any sense related to the idea of destructive power, but rather the resilience and un-ending will or determination inside. The strength of the inner will.

They say that the only thing which matters is that which is on the inside. Being kind, being compassionate, that results in weakness on the inside.

And perhaps, if I may add to the never-ending argument, that is the only kind of weakness that is truly desirable.

The weakness in which you feel obligated to protect something that you want. The weakness which you will be willing to give up anything for that which is being threatened; the weakness in which you would go to the end of the world, looking to fulfill the the last wish of that one person. The weakness in which you would actually accept a disgrace without any complaint, only because someone asked you to do so.

The weakness in which you love.

And whenever I follow this path of thought, I always begin with Nii-sama, and end there as well.

So strong...

But so weak...


"Nii-sama."

His back is towards me, masked by the shadow of his cold room. All I can see is the boldly displayed Kanji "6" on his Captain's cloak, the only bit of my Nii-sama that is under the soft moonlight filtering through the roof and windows.

And though he shows no sign of it, I know he heard me.

"I'm going to be accompanying Shiba fukutaichou and Ukitake taichou tomorrow on an expedition to remove the Hollows appearing in the Sereitei."

Though he shows no sign of it, I know he heard me.

"Good night, Byakuya-sama."

And though he shows no sign of it, I know he cares.

It's alright that he is hiding this weakness. But however hard he tries to hide it, it's there. And it will always be. Weakness is like a wound, healing ever so slowly, but leaving a scar. His scar is still there, it's still there.

He doesn't even turn to bid me farewell, but I'm used to it. He is hiding his weakness after all, and I'm the root behind this despicable short-coming. I can't help but staring in awe at his back as he continues to dip his pen in the ink and scrawl his report onto his parchment. He is un-swayed, like a strong fortress in the mountains, but on the inside, he is fragile.

Those wickedly sharp blossom petals, soaked with blood.


And on my way back to the barracks, I am suddenly overcome with this rising bile in the back of my throat, so horrifying. I look on the ground, realizing that I'm actually staring at my pale, ghostly reflection in the water, and the moon is right behind my head, silhouetting my pathetic form in a black shadow- the man on the moon. Shaken, I splash the puddle into drops.

Was that weakness just now? A speck on the moon?

I'm disgusted. It's utterly gruesome and revolting.

This weakness that I have not noticed until just now... How did I miss it before? It's a wound, slashed right across the chest, bleeding, bleeding. Only will the ebb stop and dry for awhile when I reach deep within to find... why?

Why? Am I missing something?

That answer is easy enough.

It wasn't there before. I don't even feel pain for this wound in my chest. But it's there, I can feel the golden ichor drip onto my sandals, down my haori and replace the puddle that used to be at my feet. Shaking it off, I wrap my cloak around me. I need to get back, Miyako is waiting to help me gather things for tomorrow.

I'm searching for something while running back to my bedroom; how can I appear so collected when I feel completely warped?

Something wet is on my cheek when I reach the entrance to the bedroom. I pray that it is not the blood I had imagined moments ago as Miyako greets me. She asks me if it's been raining, and I quickly reply yes.

I haven't been crying, and it hasn't been raining

How can I appear so strong... When I'm just so -

So weak.


Please review! I didn't get any reviews for the last chapter, so I was really hesitant to begin this second one, but... amazingly something drove me to finish it.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was a truckload to write, not because it was a lot, but because it was hard to put everything into a deeper theme. Sorry if it's hard to follow, email me if you want me to try to explain anything in this chapter.

The quote from above, I got it from Candide by Voltaire. It's a great novel, and the quote just made me want to write this chapter, its a beautiful quote. Voltaire is a great writer, but I wouldn't recommend the book unless your around my age, middle school.

Thanks