----- Another update. Italics signal inner thoughts.

He saw her, garbed in a violet kimono with delicate silver butterfly patterns, standing at him in the setting rays of the golden sun. The wind gently picked up her silky locks and made them dance in duo with the light of her tender eyes. Pink lips came apart, moving to form words he remembered clearly, yet could not hear at this very moment.

The boy clenched a fist lightly, knowing the storm of feelings he felt at the news was too complicated to sort out just now. For a rare time in the last years, he smiled warmly, albeit lightly, barely nodding. He would leave soon, and she would remain here, so was her wish. But why did his fingers twitch?

The last days were too much; you're tired that's all.

Ichigo exhaled his breath, feeling overwhelmed, thankful, relieved, and warm inside. The sunset was beautiful, and she lived, she was safe, he had finally proved he could protect those he cared most about. This confidence filled him with serenity.

Now, in this single moment, he felt sure of himself, at peace with this strange world called Soul Society and devoid of the tense grasp the enemies who left to Hueco Mundo had oozed in everyone's heart mere hours ago. No frown marring his features, a pleasant sigh escaped his lips as if it was the most normal thing to do.

He would see her again, he could feel it inside, as sure as the day and night would succeed each other with no reprieve. Even though Ichigo hadn't left yet, he was already looking forward to meeting her a second time all over again, perhaps with less dire circumstances than their initial introduction?

This single thought almost made him chuckle, but he simply walked forward, the sense of closure on this whole chain of incidents now a definite certainty.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ichigo tossed in his pain-filled sleep, brows creased, moaning incomprehensible words as the memories flowed again. Sighing at the spectacle, his watcher let a sigh escape his lips, patting the single intact shoulder with a sure hand. Decided, he left the room and headed to the unlighted living room, signalling a number on the phone.

"Hi, it's me… Yes, yes I know you know."

There was silence for a moment.

"Listen, I think he… Yeah, you're right. I'm coming."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Just as the blade hissed, coming in contact with the foul magicks of the ghoulish apparition, smoke filled the air like a clinging, black mist. Choking on the smell, the shinigami backed a few steps, narrowing his eyes to see his enemy and where he would attack from.

His senses tingled when he felt another reiatsu enter the fray, somewhat familiar to him. But the last time he remembered feeling that presence, it had been…

« Sode no Shirayuki! Dance! »

He felt the cold air in his very eyes, as he opened them wide when the rush of freezing wind caught with him, battering the dark cloth around him furiously. Blinking back tears from the frosty bite the attack had left, he covered his face with one upraised arm, looking away from the white flash that illuminated the fog all around the park. His chest felt painful as his heart pumped so much as to make him light-headed, his knees like water against his will. Nervousness, excitement?

What happened just now?

A low-pitched below echoed in waves just as the cloudy air cleared itself of smoke and ash with lazy breaths of wind. Somewhere, in front yet not close enough, stood a figure, a small, dark-clad, slim figure, holding a white blade with a decided pose, not quite facing him. Ichigo passed a timid tongue tip on his parched lips, shaking, and his face the perfect expression of shock. Shiny ebony hair slid over her face in the form of a rebel strand, accenting the shadow that clouded her eyelids. They opened, purple orbs staring right into his golden ones, piercing the night like a moonbeam.

"Long time no see… Ichigo."

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Grasping the cover as he shivered, he shook his head with quick jerks. He turned to one side, hissed and returned on his back as his body reacted to the pain in his torn chest and arm. Sweat started to pour from his skin, as his dreams started to take a bad turn toward painful memories.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The moon was bright and comforting, even though they didn't need its embrace to feel at peace with the world just now. The two figures, black cloth on indigo sky, shared a silent moment from his rooftop. They were meeting all over again, like they did every night since last month.

It had shaken his friends, to see him so open, almost… friendly these days. He didn't frown as much as he used to, at least, not as aggressively concentrated as before. His eyes held onto a new light, as if the student had found a purpose lighter than the one which usually filled his nights with gore and ghosts.

Almost touching, they sat, side by side, staring at the starry sky with not a care in the world.

"I went to see Yuzu's school play tonight, you should have come." He had said that right out of the blue, not thinking about it, feeling like saying something right now.

"I bet your sister did a good performance, your father must have been proud, was he not?"

"Yeah, if you can call his frantic catcalls at the end an encouragement! What a disgrace to have such an old man…"

She had chuckled at that comment, a laugh that filled him with warmth. Light banter like this was new, unexpected. He smiled inwardly, happy for no specific reason, simply glad he was not alone right now. On a whim, he clasped a hand on her left shoulder and hugged her to him, his nose touching her hair, eyes still open and looking in the distance.

"I'm glad you came back."

I'm glad you're alive.

He didn't see her expression, but from the silence that lasted, he guessed she was surprised, lacking words perhaps. Maybe it took seconds, or minutes, an hour, he didn't know, but she put her small right hand on her shoulder, over his, squeezing it, and murmured.

"I'm glad I did."

He remembered staying like this a long while, couldn't recall exactly when he went inside, nor if they exchanged more words afterward. One vivid image was engraved in his mind though: the sight of her half-closed purple eyes, looking at him, as he encircled her frame with one arm. He had felt her head resting on his right shoulder while they laid on his still-made bed, curtains dancing in the wind, falling asleep in shared silence. Ichigo remembered awakening somewhat later and caressing her hair, smiling, and closed his eyes again.

When morning came, he woke up alone and everything crashed down.

-----Might not think it, but this whole idea of a story is hard to write!