Note: I can't think of anything else to say except this chapter pretty much wrote itself. Enjoy! :)

"No, ma'am, it's fine that this is the tenth time you've called today, but like I said, you absolutely cannot go skiing if you are eight months pregnant... Yes I understand you were looking forward to it. Oh, please stop screaming! I suppose abortion is an option, but... th-that's a bit extreme don't you think? Oh, you'll call back in a few minutes? Lovely... um, bye."

The medic was glad there were no phones in the Soul Society, otherwise Squad 4 would be a nightmare. He had agreed to answer the phone for the clinic the next day, and was finding that many humans were almost as crazy as some of the captains.

"No, this is not a veterinarian clinic!" he answered desperately before setting the phone back down. In between calls, he was filling out paperwork that was surprisingly similar to what he was used to. The phone rang again. He sighed and picked it up.

"Kurosaki Clinic. How can I help you?"

"Hanataro?"

"...Eriko?" He wondered why she would be calling.

"Hi... so I was looking through my grandmother's stuff to see if I could find any more information and I found... this painting."

"...Okay?" He had no idea what this had to do with him.

"Just... just come over. Like, right now. This is really weird."

He quickly explained that he had to leave and head to the neglected yellow house where his friend lived that was in great need of a new coat of paint. The wooden stairs on the porch creaked under his feet. He knocked on the door. Eriko answered it, looking extremely unnerved about something. There was dust on her tiny nose, evidence of her search through old boxes and such. Her hair was tied back, which was unusual for her. Usually, her dark wavy hair fell into her eyes, shielding her face from the outside world.

"What is it?" he asked. She pulled him into the dim hallway and closed the front door. There was a strong smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol in the living room and the furniture seemed old and worn out, although the floor shined and there wasn't a speck of dust on the shelves.

"C'mon. I left it in my room." She led him up the narrow stairs. "I'm sorry about the house. I try to keep it clean, but it still looks horrible because everything is broken."

"Don't worry about it," he responded cheerfully, knowing the responsibilities of the household must fall to her. They reached a small room at the end of the hall. He gasped when he saw the inside. All four walls contained a mural of a gray and black forest. The trees, although free from color, still seemed alive. Black flowers dotted the ground, and the sky was a wash of constant night.

"Y-you did this?" The walls were expertly done, no way were they the result of a high school student. And the forest, it was so familiar to him it was scary. It was an exact replica of his spirit world.

"Yeah. This place. It keeps popping up in my dreams. I never knew why, but I liked it. It's kind of sad and lonely, but pretty and cheerful in its own way."

He nodded, having the same feelings for the place, although curious why she would also be familiar with it. "So what was the thing you needed to show me?"

She pointed to the corner of the room. A medium-sized picture frame leaning against the wall. It has to be him, she thought. But why? It doesn't make sense.

He approached it, trying to make out the shapes in the dim light. Only a single lightbulb burned above them. He lifted it up and wiped away some of the grime. He gasped as he revealed two faces he knew well.

It was a street corner in a busy city, yet all other figures were blurred but the two in the center. A small girl with white skin, golden hair, and tearful eyes. A boy who looked to be about eleven depicted with blue-black hair, and holding his arms out to girl in the golden kimono.

"I knew it. You do know something about it. That kid, he looks just like you." She knelt beside him on the floor.

He held the frame, shakily responding, "That... is me."

"But it was almost sixty years ago!"

"Yes..."

"I knew there was something odd about you," she replied suspiciously. "You just knew way to much." He squirmed uncomfortably. "What about the girl?" she asked.

"Ugokanai... Eriko."

"I was named after her." She said softly. "She... gave flowers to my grandmother."

"I remember," he answered, closing his eyes, remembering the panic he had gone into when she wen missing one morning and the sweet relief when they were reunited. He wondered how a painting could capture such a moment so perfectly.

"It's real. It's all real," Eriko realized. "The first Eriko, she wasn't like the others... was she?"

Hanataro grinned sadly. "No. Not my Eri-chan."

"You said they all were dead."

"Yeah."

She looked down. "I'm sorry. W-were you there when it happened? How did it happen?"

Still staring at the frame, he tried to answer, but couldn't find the will. That day was so unfair and tragic and horrible he had buried it forever. "The palace. It burned down. I was there."

"Oh," she whispered, barely audible.

Eager to get off the topic, he set down the painting. "Um, did you find anything else? Any journals or letters maybe?"

"No," she muttered. "Just a bunch of old art magazines." She nodded to another corner, where several stacks sat on a scratched up desk. "Of course, I could keep looking. There's still a closet I haven't gone... through." On the last few words, her voice weakened. All color drained from her face. She sat motionless, eyes flickering with confusion and fear. Hanataro found that unlike the first time, he could watch the horror film unfold with her.

There was a blue van, the front completely crushed into a streetlight. That was all. People were beginning to gather around the sight, calling for help. And then it was if a camera had zoomed in and he was seeing the demolished inside of the car. A man's head was bleeding profusely, the rest of his body horribly mangled. his green eyes wide open and clouded. No doubt. He was dead.

"Eriko..."

The small girl bolted up and sped down the stairs, shaken from sharing her vision, he followed closely behind. She ran out the front door, breathing heavily as she furiously turned street corners and nearly got hit by various vehicles. Throughout all this she didn't say a word. But he knew why she was tearing down the sidewalk. She thought it loud and clear. The man they saw had been her father.

By the time she finally stopped, the police, fire department, and ambulance were already there, trying to remove the body from the crushed metal.

"Papa," she whispered, tears flowing down her pale cheeks. "THAT DRUNKEN IDIOT!" She screamed as she crumbled to the ground, burying her face in her knees. Knowing what it was like to loose a family member so suddenly, Hanataro knelt down next to her, unable to formulate words. There was nothing he could say. She was completely alone now. She didn't want to hear empty words anyway.

He looked up, and was surprised to see a soul attached to the recently recovered body.

"Hey you punks! Be careful with me!" He shouted at the paramedics. The soul was a normal-sized man with longish dark brown greasy hair, bloodshot eyes, and a wrinkled, mean-looking face covered in stubble.

The shinigami nudged his friend gently. "Eriko, he hasn't left yet." She lifted her tear-stained face and followed the sound of the shouting that was so familiar to her.

"P-papa?" She called unsure. He whipped around to face her. Immediately his face softened.

"Eriko? What- what happened to me?" He looked at his translucent hands. He looked at the chain connecting him to his body. "What did I do?" The guilt of leaving his daughter alone overwhelmed him.

She slowly stood up and went to him, fighting through the crowds, but held back by a policeman.

"Please stay back, honey," he stated. She gave him a cold look.

"Hell no. That is my father, you SLUDGEWAD!"

He sighed and let her through. Hanataro tore out of his Gigai and dumped it behind some bushes, not wanting anything to happen to it. He weaved past law enforcement officials until he was right next to Eriko and the soul in question.

"Y-you're one of them?" She whispered to him, completely astonished. "Like Ichigo and Rukia and them?"

He nodded. "One of our jobs is to send soul to where we're from. The Soul Society."

"Yeah. Yeah you're one of those guys," he sneered, looking at his uniform. "Whatcha want? You wanna take me from my daughter?" He grabbed the medic by his collar.

"I-I have to sir! You could turn into a Hollow! You could kill Eriko for all we know!" He released him and took a step back. She looked at her father sadly.

"You were drunk weren't you? How could you? Idiot!" she turned away. He tried to place his hand on her shoulder, but found it passed through.

"No. No, Eri, I wasn't. Well, actually I was... But that's not how it happened! I-I just sort of stopped breathing. My heart stopped beating. And then the car crashed. Eriko... I'm sorry." It seemed impossible, but the gruff man's eyes became cloudy with tears. "You always took care of everything. And I did nothing. God, how many times I hurt you... Now this. I wish I could have... been better."

She looked at him, face peaceful and quiet. "Me too. But that's not how things turned out. But I love you, Papa. I do."

He smiled slightly. "Yeah. I love ya too, kid." She wiped away the streaks on her cheeks and stepped back, nodding to her friend to give her consent.

He unsheathed his zanpakuto and quickly preformed a soul burial. Mr. Tobe's soul disappeared, smiling for perhaps the first time in years. Eriko stared at the spot he had once been in and glanced at his bloody body. A few drops of rain began to fall, quickly gaining speed to a full-out downpour. The teenage girl ripped herself away from the scene and walked away, slowly, not caring how soaked she was getting.

Hanataro quickly put his Gigai back on and followed after her from a distance. She seemed fine. Her thoughts were peaceful as her manner, bu something wasn't right.

He was correct. A few blocks later, and she suddenly collapsed from the weight of her own sorrow and lonely existence and curled up in a tight ball in the middle of the street. Concerned, he rushed to her side. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her breaths were deep and ragged. His friend would never make it back home. Therefore, he scooped her up in his arms, strengthend by a lifetime of labor, and carried her the rest of the way.

It reminded him of carrying Ugokanai Eriko through the flames years ago. Except this time, there was no rush, just the cold miserableness of the rain and the events of the day to slosh through.