Author's Note: So here you have it! It's been SO much fun to share this story with all of you. Thanks, again, to my fabulous beta, Whitecloud and to all the faithful readers who started reading "Empathy" and kept reading! Arigato gozaimas!-Lex

Epilogue: Spirits' Rest

Karin sat in the garden outside the captain's quarters, trying to meditate. From time to time, the enticing smell of cooking food wafted its way through the open kitchen window, distracting her.

"You are unfocused, Karin," Masumi said, reprovingly.

"Tell me something I don't know," she replied, laughing in spite of herself. She stood up. "I give up," she said, shaking her head.

She headed back into the house, setting her sandals by the sliding door and tiptoeing into the kitchen, her reiatsu hidden. She walked up behind Hitsugaya and wrapped her arms around him, inhaling deeply.

"I love a man who knows how to cook," she whispered in his ear. He laughed, artfully tossing a pile noodles into the air and catching them again in the pan.

"Let's face it," he teased, "you just love not having to cook." He emptied the pan onto a small platter and poured a pungent brown sauce over the noodles.

"Hitsugaya-taicho," she laughed, "I do believe you're developing a sense of humor. I can see that even a tiny bit of my reiatsu has done wonders."

"Take this out to the table," he ordered, doing his best to keep a straight face and thrusting the plate of noodles at her. She laughed again and walked over to the table, which was set with a tablecloth and lit with four candles.

Dinner, as expected, was delicious, and the conversation easy. After they had finished the main course and had cleared the dishes, they leaned back on the pillows, sipping their wine. She playfully reached her bare foot over to touch his. Hitsugaya smiled and pulled her towards him, but her elbow caught the corner of the table, knocking over two of the candles. The tablecloth began to burn. He reached out to put out the flames, but she pushed him gently away.

"I can help with that," she said, pointing her right hand at the table and sending a small stream of ice to douse the fire. Then, with another flick of her wrist, she extinguished the two remaining candles, which remained standing on the now-singed tablecloth.

"Show-off," he said, trying hard to keep a straight face. His hair and face were peppered with black ashes.

"Your ice technique has to be good for something," she said, stifling a laugh.

She reached over and brushed the ashes out of his hair. Then she took her thumbs and gently brushed away the dirt from underneath his eyes. He grabbed her wrists and pulled them behind his back, and she tumbled on top of him. Before she could protest, however, he had planted his lips on hers.

"Dessert?" he laughed, untying her kimono and pushing it off her shoulders onto the floor.

"I think we can take care of that," she laughed, slipping her hands underneath his shihakushou and feeling the smooth hardness of his skin under her fingers. They now lay on the floor, skin touching skin.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured in her ear, as he ran his hands through her long hair. He was anxious to feel every bit of her, to reassure himself that this was real, that she really was here, with him, in this place. His fingertips were feather-light on her skin and she moaned with pleasure. They glided over her shoulders, her neck, and then her face - a face he had never forgotten, even when he had remembered none of his life in the Soul Society, with her.

He could feel the joy within her, and felt it grow inside himself, as well. It was her power he was experiencing– this ability to sense her emotions as he had never felt them before - the power of empathy, which she wielded in every aspect of her life. He now he understood that power which now lived inside of him.

"Please don't ever leave me again," he heard her implore, in his mind's eye.

"I won't," he answered, silently, as their bodies and souls joined.

*************************

Later, they lay next to each other in bed, her arms encircling him, holding him tight against her chest.

"There's something I want you to have," he said, rolling over and opening a drawer in the small bedside table. He handed her a package, wrapped in rice paper and tied with a plain piece of string. She sat up, looking at the package and then looking back at him quizzically.

"Open it," he said, simply, his lips pursed to keep from grinning.

She slowly untied the package and gently folded back the paper. Inside was a small, battered black notebook, its edges frayed, its cover warped from the elements. Her face lit up with pleasure.

"The notebook," she said, looking through its pages at the drawings and notes he had written months ago. "Where did you find it?"

"In the hotel, in Otaru," he said.

"You went back?" she asked.

"I needed to go back one last time," he explained. "To the train station."

She said nothing, but paged through the notebook – the record of his life in the Real World. Then, smiling, she laid the notebook down on the bed, where it fell open. She wrapped her arms around him and held him for the longest time.

"I love you, Hitsugaya Toushirou," she said, with a contented sigh.

"Stay with me," he said.

"Of course I'll stay with you," she replied, laughing. "Was there ever a question?"

"That's not exactly what I meant," he answered, seriously.

She pushed him away so she could see his face, unsure of what she was sensing from him; he looked slightly uncomfortable. She put her hands to his face and looked into his eyes. He smiled at her and raised an eyebrow.

"Hitsugaya-taicho," she said, a look of surprise on her face. "Are you asking me to marry you?"

"Yes," he answered.

"What will all the starry-eyed Academy girls say? I warned you that Hyorinmaru was a sexy zanpakuto."

The tips of his ears reddened in embarrassment. "They'll survive," he laughed. "Besides, your brother is set to do the next demonstration with Abarai-fukutaicho."

"I don't know," Karin replied, grinning now. "I think I need a little more convincing." He took her in his arms and kissed her, running his hands lightly over the small of her back.

"So?" he asked, his lips by her ear.

"Hmmm…I'm still thinking about it," she murmured, as he pushed her gently back down onto the pillows.

Over her shoulder, he could see the notebook, lying open on the bed. It was no accident that it had fallen open as it had – the notebook now always opened to the same page. He had turned to that particular page over and over, although, in the Real World, he had never really understood why. He smiled.

There, filling the entire page, was a sketch of a woman with long dark hair and a warm smile. Underneath the drawing were four simple words, "She is the key."

FIN