There was a time when she would run to him at the slightest thing, when her voice would pitch over in excitement at her anxiety to impress him, to have him know, to have him acknowledge her. She would run, hair in a tangle, knees scabbed, tripping over rough stones, propriety forgotten at her dogged determination to get to him written all over her face, towards his office. Her legs would carry her, thud thud thud on the grassy floor like a metronome, each step bringing her just a little, just a little, just a little bit closer to his perfection.

Those times have passed. Now she no longer turns to him for comfort, and he no longer seeks her out to give it. The easy grace and trust is gone, the conversation stymied, the chemistry missing. Her eyes no longer shine with vibrant glee, but are dim with disappointed hopes.

She wishes to let him know, but Rukia doesn't really think he cares anymore.

He is silent.

That is how he is, and even he believes that is how he always will be.

The freezing of the human heart is a tragic thing, all the more exacerbated by the fact that it was through a heavenly prank, a bitter joke played upon an unfortunate mortal – for that is who he is after all, nothing but a mere mortal subject as a plaything for the higher powers.

He would trade his life and the next dozen to be able to piece together the patterns of his own life.

He is silent.

Because that is what they made him, it is what they desire, demand. It is what he is expected to be, and he has long since given up on being anything else. He is the image he presents, he is the persona they need him to be, he is the sacrificial lamb on the alter of duty, he is the one who will carry their burdens for them because no one else deserves to suffer like he does.

The first lines of heartache, the first seeds of brokenness, were sown long ago, from the time he decided to forsake his right to happiness.

He is silent.

It is necessary to be so, he has concluded, because human relationships befuddle him so. They bewildered his poor, logical mind, confound him with a dozen subtle innuendos and bury him within a conundrum of hysterical issues.

He fails to understand the importance of consolation, of praise, of words of encouragement. He does not see the point in anger, in frustration, in the wasteful action of tears.

Human relationships mess him, confuse him.

He is a pillar, a dry, barren dessert amidst a waterfall, the only one who doesn't fit in, who holds it all up, and in doing so, begins to lose his humanity.

He never thought he would love her, but when he did it was beautiful. It was beautiful in its confusion and never ending uncertainties.

It was delightful in its intricacies that escaped his mind, yet his eyes, so sharp in spotting the weakness of a hollow, is pitifully pure at how his silence has choked his sister into a similar fate of muteness.


A/N: If you think the ending was abrupt, you're right. It was meant to be an absurdly long chapter cos I was in the mood, but I lost it halfway.

I've been trying to get the whole Zanpakutou chapter up but it doesn't seem to come out right, and so the idea is just left to languish in the blank, non-artistic recesses of my brain.

If you wonder why updates are sporadic and sparse, well I don't have the motivation! REVIEWS HELP. THANK YOU :