Epilogue: Fragile as the Wings of a Butterfly

'Kurosaki!' Inoue was almost screaming her voice was so loud, and she thundered up and down the steps louder than anyone could possibly manage apart from her, 'Kurosaki!'

'Inoue?' Ichigo peered out the doorway, wondering why his long-time friend was waving her arms about so madly. From inside his apartment, he could hear Uryū talking on the phone about some sort of fashion supply load which was apparently going to arrive on his doorstep in a couple of days. Further away, the gentle noises of Chad's guitar resonated through the house as well. Ichigo didn't know why the three of them had converted one of the empty rooms into their own personal apartments. His house had been taken over by his friends. Rukia's study was Inoue's bedroom, the spare room was Uryū's, and Chad had taken the store room. The only places where there wasn't something of someone else's things lying around, was his bedroom, and his study. Although somehow Uryū still managed to leave some ordering form on his desk occasionally.

It had been about three months since Rukia had left to go wherever she'd gone, and none of his friends had gone back home. Oh no, instead of leaving him to get over everything by himself, they were dragging him to amusement parks one second, and fashion shows the next, not to mention that Mexican music performance.

Ichigo guessed that they were trying to make him feel better, but in reality, he just kept feeling more and more exhausted every day. And when he lay on his bed at night, those were the times when the guilt and anguish would return.

'Kurosaki!' Orihime was screaming now, a piercing shriek that sent the birds flying from the trees, 'Ku-ro-sa-ki!'

'What is it?' getting rather worried, Ichigo ran down the stairs to peer at his friend carefully, 'Inoue? Are you okay?'

The auburn haired woman nodded and shoved the letter in her hand into his face, almost poking his eye out with one of the corners, 'Look, Kurosaki, look at this,'

Ichigo stepped back and looked at the envelope in his hands. It was larger than average and thick too. He wondered who would've sent him such an official looking letter. Hesitating a little, he prised open the seal and slid the contents out.

There was a letter and a small square of paper with a line drawn on in black. Turning the square around in an attempt to work out what it was he was looking at, Ichigo realised that the way the artist had drawn it was so familiar. His brown eyes widened and, flipping over the card, he read in an unfamiliar hand: Kuchiki Rukia.

'What? What is this?' shaking slightly, Ichigo looked at the wobbly line again, and it was only after a few more minutes that he realised it was an outline of four silhouettes. They were easily identifiable now: spiky haired Ichigo, tall and muscular Chad, thin and spectacled Uryū, Orihime with her long hair . . . they were only outlines, but they were so easy to recognise. And they were done by Rukia.

Looking at the still folded letter, Ichigo had the terrible thought that she might have passed away. And not onto the Soul Society, like a human would, because she was already a spirit. Opening the paper, he read the short note quickly, eyes almost moving faster along the lines of characters than his brain would comprehend.

To Whom It May Concern:

Kuchiki Rukia, admitted to our caring centre three months prior to the current day, has requested that notification be sent to the address which she supplied upon applying for help.
This letter is to inform you that Kuchiki Rukia is well, although her memory has almost completely faded, and that she is happy.

Carer of Kuchiki Rukia

Ichigo was reeling in shock. He couldn't believe this. What was going on? After three months, Rukia finally decided to let them know how she was going. But at this stage, surely she wouldn't even have remembered who they were.

'What is it?' although she'd been excited, just because of her gut instinct, Orihime was now worried, since Ichigo had gone very quiet.

'It's a letter,' the orange haired man heard Uryū and Chad begin descending the stairs, 'From Rukia,'

'What?' they all made the same exclamation, and Orihime had to fight herself not to snatch the paper from her friend's grasp, 'Is this for real?' somehow, they sounded just like children again.

'It is,' Ichigo looked like he was in another world, so spaced out and shocked. He wasn't sure what this meant. Rukia hadn't asked them to come and visit, but she hadn't told them to stay away either. It was a confusing situation that he couldn't wrap his mind around. Any other day before the current one, receiving something like this would have had him rushing to wherever she was in a matter of moments. No thinking required, no hesitation . . .

'Ichigo?' Chad finally decided to speak on behalf of everyone else. He was concerned for his old friend, and he could only guess at the ferocity of the emotional turmoil Ichigo was experiencing.

'Yeah?' coming back to earth, just a little, the half frozen man shakily turned away to go back up the stairs, 'What?'

Uryū, still a few stairs up from the Ichigo, placed a hand on the other man's shoulder, 'Kurosaki, aren't you going to do anything about this?' he didn't wait for a reply before continuing, 'The Kurosaki Ichigo I know wouldn't give up and ignore such an opportunity. What's happened to you? Are you going to wallow in self-pity and badly disguised depression for the rest of your life? Can't you make any decisions without Kuchiki standing beside you and shouting in your face? Is it only her that you care about? So much that you'll let us all watch you slowly killing yourself? Kurosaki!'

'Ishida-,' Ichigo stared in surprise, unsure of how to react to the usually composed man's sudden outburst. He could sense his other two friends staring, and he could feel Uryū's nails digging into his shoulder. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to react, what he was supposed to do in such a situation. How was he supposed to apologise? He hadn't even realised it was so hard for them, hadn't even known how much they'd known.

'Let's all go,' Orihime smiled suddenly, breaking the tense silence, 'Come on, we can leave right away! Kurosaki, you have a car, right?'

Ichigo found a doubtful voice speaking in his head, almost drowning out the newborn hope, 'We don't even know where she is-,'

'Sometimes I'm still astonished at how thick you are,' Uryū's withering look was intense, and then the bespectacled man plucked the envelope from Ichigo's hands, 'Right here,' and he tapped on the paper, pointing out the address.

'Oh,' Ichigo had no more excuses, although he still wasn't sure why he'd even tried to make up any in the first place, 'I guess that means we're off then,'


'Hurry, Inoue!' Ichigo had clearly gotten over his hesitation as now, walking towards the doors of the clean looking centre, he couldn't have moved any faster without breaking into a run, 'Why are you still on your phone?'

'Sorry!' trying to text while she quickened her pace to a trot, the auburn haired woman smiled cheerfully, 'I'm coming!'

'Hello! Who are you?' a woman called out from the desk as the four young people burst into the entrance room, 'Can I help you with something?'

'Er,' suddenly feeling very awkward, Ichigo found he was at a loss for words. The drive had taken at least two hours, and the excitement was wearing down to worry. Orihime had been on her phone the whole trip, Uryū had been navigating with unsurprising precision, and Chad had stayed silent.

'We came to visit a Kuchiki Rukia,' Uryū sent Kurosaki a rather venomous glare before smiling at the woman sitting behind her desk, 'Is that possible?'

The lady thought she recognised the man who was speaking, but she couldn't place where. The possibility that he was the one who'd designed what she was wearing and appeared quite frequently in the magazines she read . . . it didn't cross her mind.

'Sure, I'll just check what she's doing right now,' turning to her computer screen, she clicked on a few things before nodding, 'Alright, she's in her room at the moment, it's on Level 2 Room 15, there'll be a map next to the elevators,'

'Thank you,' smiling again, Uryū turned and herded all of his friends towards the elevators. Sometimes, it seemed that they all needed to be bossed about before they'd move an inch. It really was quite tiring.

'Wait!' Orihime cried out suddenly, sliding between Uryū and the elevator buttons, 'W-wait!'

'For what?' everyone was vexed at her sudden change in behaviour, 'Don't you want to see Kuchiki?'

'Of course I do, it's just that-,' she was fretting and glancing about, clearly looking for some way out of the situation she'd just placed herself in, 'Just . . . please wait!'

'For what?' Ichigo was the one to repeat the question, gazing at his friend with an almost bewildered expression. She'd been the one to suggest coming, so what was all this about now?

'For us, I think she means,'

All three of the young men paused their staring at Orihime to turn around. Just in time to watch a crowd of people spill through the doors and into the waiting room. Spiky red hair there, smooth black here, blonde over in the corner . . .

'Renji? Byakuya? Urahara? Everyone?' Ichigo could have continued his list, but he was hardly able to think, let alone process what had just happened, 'What are you lot all doing here?'

'We came to see Kuchiki, one last time,' Urahara, being the twisted but brilliant genius that he was, had already somehow calculated that this day, this very day, was the last for Rukia, 'Don't tell me you're gonna kick us all out. Even after Inoue went to such trouble to contact us all,'

'Dad?' ignoring the shopkeeper for the most part, the orange haired man stared as his father and two younger sisters moved through the group, smiling at him cheerfully, 'Is this a dream?'

'That totally ruined the epic mood,' whoever had just spoken sounded very blunt and cynical, very much like a certain Kurosaki Karin, 'And here we all were walking in here looking oh so fine and impressive,'

'K-karin,' Ichigo tried not to rush over and hug the black haired young woman. Turning abruptly, he gently moved Orihime out of the way, and then he pressed the 'up' button. There really was no going back now, especially because there was a considerable amount of people between him and the door, and so he had to do this. Still, he could only hope Rukia's room was large, or else they'd never be able to fit, 'Oh dear. Inoue, why did you get this lot to come too?'


Rukia sat on her chair, staring out the window at the cloudy sky. She wondered if it was going to rain, and the thought was a sad one, although she couldn't think why. She wondered what day it was, and where she was. The person who came in to ask her things, she couldn't think of who that might be either. She could feel that something was very wrong, something was missing, something really, truly important. It was hurting somewhere there, she raised a hand and touched her chest, unsure of where 'there' really was. But she couldn't think of what would've happened to make that pain. All she knew was that she was satisfied, something she'd done or said had caused a calm to pass over her fading mind.

Rukia could tell this was her last day, and there was nowhere else for her to go, no new place to travel to. It really would be the end, but of what she couldn't tell. She knew she was losing her thoughts, and she almost knew that that was different.

'Ah,' the faint sound, more of an exhalation that anything else, slid over her pale lips. Words no longer pass from her mouth, simple gestures are all she can use to convey her messages, but somehow she manages, and somehow they understand.

'SHHHHH!' 'Just shut up!' 'Come on!' 'Get lost!' 'I said be quiet!' 'You're the one being loud!' 'Shut it, all of you,'

There was something different about that tidal wave of noise crashing down the corridor to her room. She couldn't pick what it was, didn't even think to go look, but the apathy lessened, just a fraction.

'Crap, the door won't open!' 'Give the key here!' 'No!' 'Just hand over the bloody key,' 'I'm warning you,' 'I said no!' 'Get out of the way!' 'You go away!' 'This is ridiculous!' 'You lot-,'

Rukia slid off her chair, moving unsteadily over to the larger windows at the far end of the white furnished room. She wasn't concerned by the noise, no thoughts of fear or amusement touched her blank mind. The skies looked cloudy and she wondered if they'd release that liquid soon. It would be sad, although why, she couldn't say.

'Got it!' 'No you don't!' 'Move it!' 'Ouch!' 'Stop moving!' 'That hurt!' 'Don't be idiotic!' 'He can't help it!'

The door slammed open suddenly, hitting the wall with such force that paint flew from the surface. People were pouring in through the narrow opening, tripping and tumbling over each other, quite a few falling into undignified heaps on the ground.

Staring from the window into a dark and cloudy sky, broken wings spread behind her, fine and gossamer black . . .

Everyone who'd just rather abruptly invaded Rukia's room stood back and stared at the thin figure leaning on the windowsill and peering up at the sky. She seemed so beautiful and tragic, like a model, and not someone who was dying. Her skin was so pale, her eyes so dark and misty, filled with violet wonders . . . her posture straight, her hand, pressed against the glass, delicate to perfection . . . oh how they'd all missed her.

But her eternity is coming to an end, her wings are disintegrating, her soul is fading . . .

'Rukia,' after being glared at by at least seven different people, Ichigo gathered himself together and spoke, quietly but clearly, 'Rukia?'

And she turned, eyes unfocused and slightly confused, no recognition sparking in the indigo depths, 'Ung,'

There was a dead silent pause, when almost everyone assembled had to avert their eyes for just a minute, and then Ichigo spoke again, 'Hey Rukia, do you remember us?'

There was a chance that she might just recall . . . with all the people she knew there . . . it had happened before . . .

The petite woman turned her head, eyes passing over each and every face, going back the other way, coming to a rest on the orange haired man in the centre of the group. She was silent, just watching as hope, fear, worry, anguish, excitement, happiness, relief . . . all the emotions that swirled around in the air that surrounded him, suspended on tiny wings.

'I-ichigo,'

Eyes widened. Gazes sharpened. Heads turned. Bodies shifted. No one blinked. All was silent.

'Ichigo,' Rukia could see no one else. The presences of the others might have helped her remember, but now the only thing her attention was focused on was Kurosaki Ichigo as he stood frozen, staring at her in disbelief.

'R-rukia?' although his voice cracked halfway through her name, he didn't care in the slightest, 'Do you . . . do you remember?'

She was crying, unable to remember that she thought such things weak, and smiling. That pretty smile which graced her face only at the best and most poignant moments of her life. A light laugh bubbled up her throat and then she slid from her chair, steadier than she'd been in months. Bare feet hardly making contact with the ground, let alone any sound, the petite woman ran over to Ichigo, arms curling around his waist, head resting against his chest.

Ichigo could hear the others murmuring to themselves as they filed as quietly as possible from the room. They didn't know how long she'd remember, how long it would be before she lost that last connection to the world and faded away forever.

'Hey you,' bending down, he peered into her eyes carefully, 'How've you been?'

She didn't reply, but her arms tightened and a happy sigh escaped her. Ichigo placed a hand on her head, lightly ruffling her hair, noting that the midnight black reached halfway down her back now. Those months of feeling nothing, they were gone now. He wanted to hold her like this forever, content just being near her, inhaling the faint smell of soap which came from her skin, and hearing her heartbeat.

'I've missed you,' he touched her cheek lightly and she turned her face into his palm, almost like a kitten, 'Oh,' a smile was tugging at his scowl, urging it to get off his face, 'One more thing,'

Rukia paused her happy mumbling to look up at him, almost questioning with her gaze alone. This was the last day she had, the last hours until she left life forever, but she wasn't sad or empty anymore. There was a familiar feeling in her chest, something so strong and powerful she thought she might burst. She wanted this man's gentle hands and his reluctant smile, this person made her life easy to bear. There was a connection between them, just an unspoken bond that hadn't been broken, even after everything they'd been through. She remembered suddenly the number of times she'd told this person that she loved him, and how he'd get a sweet look in his eyes. And, although the memory was gone in a second, the feeling of contentment remained.

She'd waited this long, so now that she'd seen him again, she could say farewell to living with no regrets. She was happy, content, peaceful . . . nothing could make this any more beautiful.

Ichigo leaned forwards and whispered in her air, very quietly, just a breath of wind carrying half hidden words, 'I love you,'

Rukia released him and stepped back, the tears caught in her lashes like crystals, and she smiled beautifully, head slightly tilted to one side and eyes half closed. She didn't make a sound, and then she turned, taking her small, delicate steps away from the orange haired man.

Ichigo watched, and his brown eyes widened as sapphire blue laced black wings burst from Rukia's back, fluttering ever so slightly in the faint breeze coming from nowhere. Her plain clothes faded away and then she was wearing a pure, snow white dress. The loose, summery type that flows around you as you dance through fields of green.

'Goodbye, Rukia,' he knew that this was the final part of her story, and what a tragically breathtaking sight she was. A new butterfly just about to fly away into the blue on shadowy silk-lace wings . . .


And so when Orihime, Uryū and Chad re-entered Kuchiki's room after giving everyone else strict instructions not to come in after them, they found Ichigo asleep on the lounge, tears running down his cheeks, and a smile on his lips. Rukia was nowhere to be seen, and, except for the fine black paper that the sleeping man held to his chest, there was no sign that she'd ever even been there. Because that paper was a black winged butterfly, faintly edged in blue, and folded carefully in the most intricate and beautiful way possible.

Wings of a butterfly . . . fragile way to freedom