Someday the world would start spinning and she would feel unsafe again. Her mind was a treacherous thing to suggest it, but there it was. Even if the shadows only inhabited small parts of the world, attached to things bathed in light, they were still there. Waiting to swallow her up again. Years of hard living in Rukongai ingrained in her anticipation of the next misfortune. She has spent many years as a happy woman, perhaps happier than she deserved. But no state of being can last forever. She knew this since the day she spent under a watery sun with Hitsugaya-taichou, wishing for the wellbeing of a soul she half-despised. The days that followed were mostly golden, awash in love and comfort, but she always knew they would be interrupted, at some point. She did not know how or when; she knew only to watch for the signs and prepare as best as she could. She did a fair job of masking the apprehension, or thought she did. Perhaps Ichigo knew all along. Maybe even Renji. She was not ready that day when the past came scraping at her door. Had it been the wolf itself, she would have handled it better.

But Kei was a different story. He was not the wolf, but the cave in which the beast slept, now slowly coming awake, bleary but growing more alert every moment. Soon, it would eat its way out of its cage and Kei would not be there. If was not put down in time, maybe never again.

His eyes followed her as she moved back and forth and around the little house, and she could feel her skin crawl within the gigai. That name was an itching feeling in her head, and she cannot shake it loose as she would a pebble in her shoe. Gin. Back. Here? Now? Before Urahara could get there and do his little morally ambiguous magic? Buried within that solid, shorter body, behind the softer eyes. Germinating like a virus. He had not said much to her since that morning, when she evaded his question with the worst kind of lie. He was antsy and just as anxious as she was, and not knowing completely why made it a thousand times worse. What could she possibly tell him? What words would be appropriate? Even if she had any, they would never do. For the obvious reasons.

She scowled at the house. She had done her best to entertain him; his impatience was rapidly pushing to the surface and finally he declared he had played enough card games and went somewhere upstairs to sulk. It was the tiny spark of relief she felt when he left her that drove Rukia outdoors. Pyon she had left inside to watch over him. She could not admit it, even to herself, but she needed to be away from the boy. She could not stand the thought of him looking at her and knowing. It seemed he knew too much already. Would this affect Urahara's sealing method? If it did, how would Urahara deal with it? Would he deal with it? Or would he just turn to Rukia with that smug face and say, "Here's what you wanted, sweetheart, now handle it"? Damned old man.

She scanned the horizon. The sky was rapidly closing in with dark clouds. She could smell the rain and for once, it did not comfort her. The safehouse was located in a fairly desolate area; the nearest building was just a speck to her left. She did not see a vehicle there, either; perhaps it was vacant? That would not be bad. In any case, she had already checked the barrier around the safehouse, and though it had clearly been there for a while, it was fairly strong. It would take a powerful hollow to get through that. . .

Her nerves jangled. She turned to look back toward the house as Kei stretched in the doorway. His hair was a mess. So. He was not exaggerating when he'd called himself lazy before.

She smiled at him brightly. "Did you sleep well?"

He stepped off the porch, head angled in such an extreme direction she could hear it pop. "Okay, I guess," he said. "Where are we anyway? There isn't much in that kitchen."

"Sorry about that. It's unusual for anyone to stay here overnight. But do you need to have breakfast food? There's got to at least be some instant ramen in there."

The boy groaned.

The back of her mind was slowly flooding with red. Of all things, a picky eater too? Urahara couldn't get here soon enough . . .then her phone buzzed. She looked over at the boy, whose expression had gone from groggy and irritable to interested in no time at all. She dug the phone out of her hakama and gazed at it.

It was not Urahara. She flipped the phone closed and looked at the boy. "Get inside," she said as she walked slowly and deliberately towards the barrier.

"But what's—"

"Just go." She raised her voice only enough to convince him of her seriousness. But she did not look back to make sure he went. Her eyes narrowed. Whatever it was, she could not allow it to get any closer. Not to her, not to Pyon, not to Kei. Her right hand wandered to the hilt of Sode no Shirayuki and she braced herself.

A moment passed, and another. She closed her eyes and focused. It was circling. Looking for a weak point. Absently, her feet followed its scent. A wide circle around the house, pushing in random spots. Poking. Her breath slowed and she counted the seconds in heartbeats. She could hear it. Shuffle. Poke. Shuffle. Poke.

And then the tearing. The reiatsu seeped though like a trickle of water through a fingerhole in a dam. And the flood was coming. The pressure on the broken spot increased. And then stopped. "Shinigami."

Raised her head. She could not afford to be fixated on the one spot. It could still come from anywhere. Anywhere.

"Shinigami." A pause. "Kuchiki Rukia. We need not fight. He belongs with us. To us. Turn him over and we will leave."

The red started earlier by a petulant young man was now a burning crimson at the back of her brain. As if she would. . . as if. . . but if she did. . .

At her side her zanpaktou thrummed and crusted with ice. The smile slid onto her face unbidden. "Shirayuki. Forgive me," she murmured. She took a deep breath. "If you want him," she hissed, "come and get him."

She did not feel it, not at first. Nor did she see it. She only felt her own warm blood seeping through the gash at her waist. She scowled. It smarted. Bastard was playing with her. The red exploded into pure fury. She could sense its power. They were evenly matched. Nevermind the insult of not sending a more powerful hollow to deal with a captain. It would pay for underestimating her. She would make it.

"Rukia!"

"Kuchiki-sama!" She whirled to see both of them on the porch, their expressions horrified. Kei, his mouth agape, ready to scream something else—but nothing came out.

"Ichimaru Gin." The arrankar was barely as tall as the boy was, but held him aloft by the neck as if he were a kitten. Helpless, hopeless. The other taloned hand grazed the boy's neck. Blood dripped from the open wound. "Ichimaru Gin. How different you look."

Pyon launched herself at it. Even as she was flung away like a plastic bag, Rukia was launching herself forward, Shirayuki's ivory point aimed for the heart. "Contact Yamada Hanatarou of division four. Tell him I need him," she told the gigai. Rukia was aloft and insanely happy. A justified kill, an earned kill, not like the target practice on the train. And it had dared lay hands on her precious ward. She was going to carve it to pieces for tempting her that way. To tiny little bits.

The arrankar only half turned, its fingers still wrapped around Kei's neck. The yellow eyes beneath the mask slid to the gasping boy, then back to the shinigami closing in. It tossed the boy aside and moved forward. "I asked you politely, and you were rude," it said.

Rukia landed just inches away, but those few inches were too many. It tilted its head. "You are slow," it said. It began to raise its right hand.

"So you say." Shirayuki swung forward again. Rukia stepped lightly back and eyed the open gash on its chest. She raised an eyebrow in clear challenge.

"You wish to play?" it asked, the expression of innocence contorted by the mask, which covered all but its mouth, which was twisted into a sharp grin. "Have you no questions? Do you not wish to know why you are about to die?" And it was gone. And then beside her. The taloned hand landed on her chest and clenched. And then it was in front of her again.

Rukia took a deep breath. "You worthless thing," she murmured. "Run if you want. I don't need to catch you to kill you."

The arrankar tilted its head. Its mouth opened to speak again, but it choked. Rukia smiled at its shocked yellow eyes. "Sonido is nice, but you're too confident." Shirayuki slid upwards through mask, skull and all. As the arrankar faded from view, Rukia slid to her knees. Shirayuki clattered to the ground, white ribbon already gone. "I know, I know," Rukia murmured to her blade. "We were lucky. Thank you for indulging me." And then the ground rose up to meet her.

Kei opened his eyes to a gray sky, partially blocked by the ancient and dusty awning above the porch. And a wide pair of brown eyes. He gulped. His neck felt very stiff. The brown eyes disappeared and Pyon's cheerful face replaced them. "Kei-san!" He threw up his hands to deflect an embrace that would no doubt have finished the job that thing had come to do—he lurched upwards. "Rukia!"

"She is alive," came a voice. The brown eyes scanned him again. They were settled into a calm, round face attached to a body that was, for all its smallness, carrying Rukia inside.

Kei pulled himself to his feet to hold the door open. The brown-eyed man looked at him as he passed through. "Thanks," he said, heading for the living room and gently laying Rukia down on a mat. Kei made to follow him in, but Pyon snatched at his arm. He brushed her off and edged closer.

The man was kneeling over Rukia, eyes closed and lips moving, as if murmuring a prayer. She was completely still. Then the small man held his hands above her and a golden light poured from them.

Kei watched in astonishment as what seemed nearly dead began to stir.

"Hana-tarou. . ." her voice was barely a gasp. The small man leaned forward and took her bloody hand in his own.

"Rukia-san. I came as soon as I got your message." He scratched his head sheepishly. "A little late, I take it."

"No," she murmured, gazing at Kei where he stood frozen and frightened a few feet away. "You came right on time." She closed her eyes. The small man paused only for a second before calmly, deliberately taking off his knapsack and producing a small white towel. He wiped her face, her hands and neck. He paused at removing her clothes although she was most certainly bloody beneath them. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "Sasaki-kun, you need to leave the room for a moment."

Kei could not move. "How did you—" he began, but was cut off.

"Know your name? Kuchiki-taichou told me in her message. She said you might be a little upset, aside from being injured. That's why I'm here. I can give you a sedative, if you want one."

"N-no," Kei said. "I'm fine. Can I come back in when you're finished?"

The small man had not even turned to face him. "Yes," he said. "I'll let you know when I'm done."

As it turned out, Kei was left pacing outside for barely a few moments when Hanatarou slid the door back. "She's awake and asking for you."

Kei was at her side before he'd even known his feet had moved. He knelt close, inhaling her newly clean smell and letting the relief wash over him. It was the Rukia he had met that first night. Not the one who was lying to him, not the one who reveled in a bloody fight.

"Sorry to have scared you, kid," she said in a low, soft voice. "I'll be good as new tomorrow."

He could only smile at her. "It's okay. I'm just so glad—" his hand was gripping hers.

"Kei. Calm down or I'll make Hanatarou give you a sedative."

"He already offered."

"Did you take it?"

"No," he admitted, looking at his hand where it had begun to knot with hers. "Rukia—" he leaned closer without knowing why and kissed her forehead. "don't die on me, okay?"

She smiled a little. "I won't. I promise."

His lungs hurt him at that point. He had so many more things he wanted to say, so many! But he could not get them out. It was just as well. Her eyes fluttered shut, she took a few deep breaths, and was still.

Kei's heart skipped a beat—okay, several beats. "Oh my god," he managed to choke out. "Did she. . ."

Hanatarou, who had watched the scene in silence, looked him up and down. A shadow passed over his face, brief but clear. "Sasaki Kei. She is fine. She just needs rest." He rose, clearing his throat. "And you need to eat. Come with me, there must be something in the kitchen I can cook for you."

Kei did not move.

"She's only sleeping," Hanatarou said. "She'd want you to take care of yourself."

Kei sighed, rose and followed him out.

There were only three chairs at the kitchen table. Kei found this odd but did not comment; he'd seen things much stranger in the past couple of days. Hanatarou hummed to himself as he dug in the cupboards. Finding only a cup of instant ramen, he sighed and made his way to the sink. As the water ran, he turned, arms crossed, and examined Kei again. "Are you sore at all?"

"No," Kei said, slumping a little in his chair. "Whatever you did, thank you."

Hanatarou nodded.

"Are you—a doctor?"

The other man chuckled. "No, more along the lines of an advanced medic. It's my job to heal shinigami that are wounded in battle."

"Shinigami." The word rolled oddly over Kei's tongue. "What Rukia is. . . not like—a kind of guardian angel?"

Hanatarou smiled. "I guess you could look at it that way. It is a shinigami's responsibility to look after souls."

"But I'm alive." He knew all of this already. She had told him. But it was merely information she had given him in passing. Now he knew it was something deeper than just words. Possibly something darker. This was outside of her normal duties. She was risking her life for him even though it was not her job.

"That's not right. The souls we look after are both dead and alive. But typically it's a random business. For her own reasons, she has sworn to protect you."

"That doesn't really explain anything."

"Sasaki-kun, I'm sorry but the less you know, the better. Kuchiki-taichou is complex and I admit I don't understand all of her motivations. But please believe she has your best interest at heart."

"Taichou—is she a commander or something?" His guardian angel happened to be a higher-up. Oh, the irony.

"She is the captain of the thirteenth division of protection squads." Hanatarou had already turned back to the sink and was filling a pan. "She has held that position for the last five years, and has served the protection squads for at least fifty as a lesser officer."

Kei blinked. "She doesn't look that old."

"Shinigami are slow to age. I am at least five times older.."

"Are you a captain too?"

At that inquiry, Hanatarou laughed outright. "Oh, no. It is not an honor I hope to attain. My own captain will probably be at her post for years after I finally retire."

"Are the captains all women?"

"There are more now than there once were, but no. Kuchiki-taichou is one of three." By this time, the pan was on the stove and Hanatarou had settled into the chair across from him.

The impromptu lesson tapered off here, and Kei began to fidget. Hanatarou was right. The additional information only confused him more. But then he remembered something. "The way you looked at me before—did I say something that offended you?"

"Not at all. I was just reminded of something." Hanatarou's hands were flat on the tabletop. Small, chapped and strangely asexual. The nails were neat and clean and there seemed to be no hair on his knuckles. He looked to the stove. "The water is boiling. Do you want any salt?"

After the meal Kei went straight back to Rukia. She opened her eyes a little as he dragged out another mat and set it close to her. "Kei," she said, her voice low but strong.

"I'm here," he said.

"You ate?"

"Yes. Just some ramen."

"Well," she yawned. "Better than nothing."

He stretched out on the mat and rolled onto his side to face her. "Thank you," he said.

She was on her back, completely still as if devoting ever drop of her energy to healing. "You don't need to thank me," she said finally.

Kei nodded, but his mind was racing. He reached cautiously and touched her wrist. "I just wanted you to know." Every nerve in his body was aware of her, drawn to her. He inched closer, fingers running lightly through her hair. Her lips were parted now, her breath light. He blinked and swallowed, swallowed again. Before he could kiss her, he felt the heel of her hand on his chest, holding him away. She gazed up at him. "Kei—we're not like that." There was something indescribable in her eyes.

He could only blink and move away, lay back down on his mat. He could not even think of what she meant before sleep snatched him up.

When he awoke it was still dark. It was stormy outside; the tinny sound of rain hitting the roof permeated the room. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. The mat beside him where Rukia had lain was empty. Hanatarou was nowhere to be seen. He stifled a yawn as he strained to listen for the restless footsteps he had come to know so well.

Instead, he heard voices. He rose slowly, slid the door aside as quietly as he could, and stepped out into the wide and open hallway. Near the door, two figures stood close together. A small form that could only be Rukia's, and a taller, slender form with spiky hair that glinted orange in the wake of lightening. ". . .what you've been doing. I never thought in a million years you could be so reckless," the man's voice said.

"I left word. It's not like I just disappeared without saying anything," Rukia murmured. There was something in her voice Kei did not recognize, had never heard there. Regret? Guilt? He edged closer.

"You might as well have. Your brother is furious, and so is Renji."

"And you?"

"Rukia, you know I'd stand with you through anything. What kills me is that you insist on making things hard on yourself like this. You haven't changed in twenty years." It seemed as if the words the man was saying should be calm, but they were tense, angry. "All this time and you've never really let me in."

"Don't you dare. Don't you dare say that. Every part of me is as good as yours and you know it. If you knew me, you'd understand why this is so important."

"I know you. I know the facts. But I don't know why you're acting this way. He would have been protected, with or without you. You didn't need to take off in the middle of the night on some babysitting mission."

"It's not babysitting. You know how I got here. Do you think anything less than a captain would have been able to keep him alive this far?"

"If you knew it was something that needed a captain, that's all the more reason for you have told me! I would have—"

"You would have come with me." Her head was bowed; the lightning was flashing just enough to expose the hard set of her expression. "Ichigo, I don't want you to carry this with me. This is mine. I'll handle it and I'll come home."

"Oh no you don't. You have no right to play the martyr here. He's alive to begin with because of you. He was supposed to die, body and soul. And you, of all people, wouldn't let justice run its course. Tell me why, Rukia. I want to hear it in your voice, not from anyone else. If you die here, I can at least tell myself I know the truth."

"I saved Gin," she began and stopped, taking a deep breath. When she began again her voice was stronger, more determined. "I saved Gin to save myself. No matter what happens, Kei has to live. I swore it. Happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"You're not making any sense. That bastard didn't have anything on you to deserve your mercy. He tortured you. Raped you. You should be the last one worried about what happens to his soul."

"But he did have something on me. He was me. All the things he was, they were terrible, and with a couple of wrong turns that would have been me. It's why we were drawn to each other, you know. He toyed with me from the moment he met me because he knew if he worked at it hard enough he could push me over the edge. And for a minute, I wanted him to. Then I finally woke up and knew that if he could be saved, so could I." She was choking just a little, leaning forward. The man moved close, almost instinctively, until she was held up by his broad chest. His hand was in her hair.

"Rukia. . ."

She sniffed, pushed away, snapped shut. "Once I get him to Urahara, we should be able to find a way to neutralize his reiatsu. He'll be safe, I'll send him home, and I'll come home, too."

The man sighed. "You're determined to go it alone."

"It's better this way."

Silence, then the shuffling sound of the man moving toward the door. He does not turn to speak his final words to her face. "Rukia. Come home alive."

And then she was alone in the doorway. As Kei slunk back to the room, he knew he was shaking as much as she was. And he finally knew why.

A/N: Whew.