As late as it was, the false sky above him was a cheerful blue. It seemed to be Urahara's way, smoke, mirrors, deception and denial. The only real thing here was his battered body and the raincloud that hovered above it. Why was everything so intense down here? Renji'd had his share of life-or-death experiences here, and all of them were mere training. He knew by then they may have been fatal if Urahara had bothered to involve himself in them. Renji was never deep enough to ponder the shopkeeper's reasons or motives. No more than he was surprised to find himself at the old man's door when his captain kicked him out.

Perhaps "kicking him out" was too harsh a description. One day of more moping than had been witnessed in him for forty years and Kuchiki-taichou was sending him on a mission. "Urahara-dono will meet you," the man said dismissively, and that was the end of a three minute conversation which might have lasted less than two. Kuchiki knew that look. And the burning smell? Forget about it. Renji lacked the energy to contest, to say the decision was too hasty and he was fine. He merely bowed and left; the short step from Sereitei to Karakura instantaneous as it never was. And Urahara was there, Tessai a few feet behind him with huge arms crossed, the kids staring in curiosity. "I set a little place up for you downstairs," Urahara chirped from behind his fan. "I'll lock the door behind you so you can have a little peace."

"So I'm being imprisoned?"

"I prefer the term detained." The grin was wider than ever. "My orders were quite specific. You broke it, now fix it. Do you suppose he's afraid Hakumei might punch him too? That is quite a shiner." That was a small fraction of the reasoning. Yes, Hakumei had quite a left hook. And while Kuchiki-taichou could no doubt dodge it, he most likely felt there was no point in putting himself into a position where Hakumei would try to hit him. She was now, after all, the unofficial muse of the eleventh division. If she didn't get him, the rest would at least attempt it in order to please her. The only reason Renji had not already been beaten into next Tuesday was that as a former comrade, they allowed him a freebie. She did get him pretty good, after all.

Renji absently raised a finger to his swollen eye. It hadn't looked that bad to him. It was a clear sign that Hakumei was getting stronger. He wanted to keep it a while.

"You already have a souvenir," Urahara huffed. "That one will fade, so deal with it."

"You're not taking the tattoo?"

"You wouldn't allow it if I was even interested enough to do it. Now go on downstairs and have a good conversation with yourself. I'll come for you once your Captain decides he's ready to deal with you again."

Renji obediently followed him down the ladder and into the cavernous training ground. Before Urahara could make his escape, he grabbed his sleeve. "But why is it still burning?"

Urahara snorted. "Don't you know?"

Renji looked at him blankly and shook his head.

"Think about it, Abarai. Letting you work it out for yourself is my favor to you." And then he was gone. That shopkeeper could play it close to the chest when he wanted to (which was all the damn time). Renji sighed. What was, was. It was almost fitting, Renji thought. This was Urahara's vengeance for screwing up his good deed. Some favor.

He spent the night (day) gazing up at the false sky, reveling in his lethargy. Of course Hakumei was pissed. Of course she wanted nothing to do with him now. While it wasn't the first time Hisagi got the girl, it was the first time he got the girl that mattered. But Hakumei had chose the better man, right? From the moment she met Hisagi-sempai, she gravitated towards him. And after that, there was no possible way, after all his dithering, Hakumei would look at Renji now.

"Who would, ya pissant? You might as well put on some makeup and hope Yumichika likes redheads, cause your ass is done with females." The Snake always agreed with him when he was down on himself. The Baboon King, on the other hand, merely stood, silent. The whole love thing was incomprehensible to him. As a whole, Zabimaru didn't make fit company to even commiserate with. He was alone. Completely, and forever.

Which is why the hell butterfly that landed on his nose after a few hours startled him. The message was a private one, but adamant. If I've found you, she can't be that far behind. Don't waste your chance. If she comes back in my direction, I won't let her pass me by.

It had to be a trick. Renji sat up, squinting at the ceiling. The crack through which the hell butterfly had flitted allowed it back up and out, then slid shut. Damned old man. He was a complete diehard, to interfere this thoroughly. Renji flopped onto his back and stretched, the irritation burning a path down his spine. If it was so easy for him to let go, why was everyone else having such a hard time? It was ridiculous. He peeled off his shirt and rolled onto his stomach. All he could do was wait for the next tactic Urahara had planned.

But it was not Urahara who woke him. Nor was it Tessai or either of the small fry. Someone was tracing the lines of the tattoos on his back, someone who was too heavy to be either of the kids and too light to be the shopkeeper or his assistant. And the soft but stiff fabric of a hakama was almost grinding into the small of his back. And then there was the jangling in his nerves that radiated from that branded wrist. He groaned. "Hakumei, get off."

There was a grunt. The weight did not move.

"Dammit, Hakumei if I have to do this the hard way I'll smack the shit out of you."

A hand landed heavily on his left butt cheek and pinched.

"Ow! Hakumei!"

"Say my name," came the response through gritted teeth.

"Hakumei," he groaned.

The hand worked its way between his suddenly immobile legs and edged dangerously close to his balls. "Say my name."

Renji swallowed. He wondered if she could feel his heart hammering, as close to the ground as it was. "Arisawa."

The hand between his legs did not move. Another hand grazed his shoulder. "Say it again."

He closed his eyes, felt the dry dust on his cheek. "Tatsuki." But did this mean. . .

She was no longer squatting on his back. He barely had enough time to pull himself up on his knees when she was in his face, eyes dark and full of something he could not decipher. Her hand came to his cheek and he flinched in anticipation. It stopped just millimeters short of a smack. "There's no point in sparring with you again," she said flatly.

"How's that?" His hands balled themselves at his knees. He had barely processed the fact that she was here, and now she was rejecting him?

"I'm not good enough. Not yet. You're too polite to kick my ass honestly." Her eyes flickered from his face to his chest and back. "And I want to beat you, Abarai. Just to prove a point."

He took a breath. He knew she would ask, eventually. So he'd prepared an answer. He just never thought he'd use it. "I didn't leave you because I didn't think you were strong enough. That's not the reason I left."

That's when she smacked him. "Stop it. I know what you were thinking about, you ass. You didn't choose. You left me before I could get a chance to leave you. You never believed in me. You never thought you were strong enough to keep me. Not even when it was all out there. But you were wrong. I'm the one you're supposed to be with. The fact that you've hurt all this time and just kept going—don't you get it? It wasn't about whether you were good enough or strong enough to be with Rukia. I'm not Rukia. You could never have her because you were meant for me. You're the one I choose. You're mine." Her kiss was sudden, rough, and over before he could lend himself to it. But she wanted it this way. She was panting, just a little, when she laid out her terms. "That's twice you've run out on me. Do it again I'll beat you senseless, even if I have to get Yachiru to do it for me."

He gaped at her. Hakumei. Arisawa. Whatever she was.

No fucking way.

He launched at her, slamming her hard on the dusty soil. "You're gonna have to do better than that, Urahara! I know Tatsuki and this ain't her!"

The form below him, mod soul or whatever it was stuffed into a gigai, went still. He stared down at her. The brown eyes narrowed and sparked. "Number one. Sai!"

His arms twisted behind him just as her knee connected with his groin. He squeaked and fell over with a thud. "Arisawa," he gasped.

She rolled him over and sat on him again. "I take it back. I really want to kick your ass now."

The spell was weak and fading. He pulled his arms from under him and lay spread-eagle. "So you do. But tell me this. If I'm yours, that's great. But where's the safety for me? Don't you like Hisagi-sempai?"

She tilted head, then raised her own right wrist. In the exact spot where on him her name was etched, his name gleamed on her skin in red. "Compliments of the meddling old bastard upstairs. I know every stray piece of sex you've gotten for the last seventy years, are you happy?"

"And that's supposed to comfort me how?"

"I know how you felt. Just the thought of you with anyone else makes me want to destroy something. And I know how you deal with rejection. I could never in a million years think of being with anyone else." Her eyes were serious. "Get it?"

He blinked. She was here, and she had him. It was completely real. Holy shit. His arms reached on their own and gently grasped her waist. "Arisawa." The smile played at his lips.

Her smile tilted upwards. "Yeah. You know, I kinda wanna—you know—with you." Her eyes sparkled.

He had pulled himself upright as he closed the distance between them, nestling his head on her shoulder. "Jeez, romantic much?" he chuckled, his embrace tightening.

Her arms snaked around his neck. "Don't need it," she giggled into his hair. "I already got what I want."


A/N: Short chapter? Kinda. Epilogue? Definitely.