Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

Author's note: Thanks for all your warm wishes. With regards to my recovery: slow but steady. Thanks. :)

Translator's note: The Japanese word 'itai' means 'pain' . It can also be used as a verb (e.g. it 'hurts') or as an exclamation ('ouch!').

WARNING: This chapter contains content that is only suitable for a teenage audience and above (15+). I do not believe that the way I have presented it warrants an M rating; but that is my judgement, not yours. Please be forewarned.

"Now listen to me, Hiro-kun. You had over fifty years with your mother. That's far more than I ever had, so you have no reason to cry. I sacrificed so much for you - I never married, never had the experience of childbirth, watched myself grow old and frail far away while Toshiro raised you on his own. I've had a hard life, Hiro-kun. One where I lived with guilt and pain, even when I did the right thing. But I don't regret a minute of it. No matter how little I saw him, I had Toshiro to lean on; and when we decided we wanted more, there was you to come home to. And for fifty years, I've been a mother; and you've been my son. As hard as it has been, you've fulfilled my life, Hiro-kun. So don't you cry for me. Keep those tears to yourself, Hiro-kun. You keep them inside, because they will make you strong. And as long as you are strong, you will remember that death is our calling. Sometimes, it even catches up with us. And now, for me, Hiro-kun - it is death's turn. Honor your mother, Makahiro-san - honor your mother's sacrifice and her happiness, and shed no tears for me."

~Kurosaki Karin, on her deathbed; to her son Hitsugaya Makahiro

"It took decades before she was comfortable taking a shower by herself. You know how it can be - the sensory input of thousands of droplets of water hitting her skin. It was completely paralyzing at first. Even as a little child, taking a bath was a challenge. But she's learned how to do it, and now she's been showering every day by herself for a very long time already; over ten years. It's just an example, but it proves that she is capable of commpletely overcoming obvious barriers to normal life. So I think that, with your help and patience, she could be more than functional; even helpful."

Unohana Retsu sighed. "Out of deference to your honor and my personal respect for you, I will do my best to accommodate her, Shihoin-no-kimi. But you should talk with her first. This is still a military, and I can't have the patients administering the hospital, so-to-speak."

"Of course," Pomodora said. "I'll have a long, serious talk with Toki-chan and make sure she understands. Orders must be followed, and she has to meet expectations of her station at all times; including detailed communication when necessary. She will not come into your division until I am positive that she is prepared to function among others and to respect the clockwork of your division and all that it entails."

"Is that a guarentee?"

Pomodora sighed. "I can't guarentee it, no... but that's why I'm begging you, Unohana Taicho. She needs this. She needs to be able to function in a world that won't coddle her. I try not to coddle her at home, but the nature of her environment in our House is not ideal for reinforcing that message. But if it isn't working, and if she is causing you trouble, than I promise I will take her off your hands."

"Fair enough," Unohana nodded. Shihoin Pomodora was a man she trusted. "...Give me a few days to make arrangements."

"Arigato gozai mashita, Unohana Taicho."

~Conversation between Head of House and 4th Division Captain, over six centuries ago

Karin put her arm around Toshiro. The party had been great - Hikaru was beautiful! - but she was happy to have the opportunity to spend time with him. They were up on the roof, snuggled up. It was quite possibly the only place in the house that they had any sense of privacy - and even there, they had to shoo away Yoruichi and Urahara first (who had also journeyed to Karakura to celebrate). Later, Karin and Toshiro would go find somewhere truly private to spend some intimate time (Kurogetsu and Tsukihime were begging for Hyorinmaru's attention); but for the moment, Karin was just happy to have her longtime boyfriend (lover? partner? soulmate?) close by.

"Ne, Karin."

"Hm?"

"I was thinking."

"'Bout what?"

His next statement hit her like a missile with a nuclear warhead. "I don't know, maybe... maybe we should... get married or something."

Karin nearly fell off the roof. "What?"

"We never really talked about it," Toshiro said, not very passionately. "I just thought that it would be something we should discuss... at least to figure out how we feel about it."

"I don't know, Toshiro," Karin replied, not sounding very happy. "I don't think I could do that."

Toshiro wasn't sure how he was supposed to take that. "What do you mean?"

Karin was clearly distressed. "I don't think it's a good idea."

"...I'm sorry I brought it up."

She realized that she owed him an explanation; one that wouldn't crush him. "I love you, Toshiro, but I don't think I can do it. Ichi-nii waded through tons of political crap. I mean, I know I don't feel like a shinigami noble, but if I go along with it, they're not going to let us get married anyway. And if I pretend like I'm a commoner, it would cause problems for Ichi-nii and Ruki-nee. I'd rather just avoid the whole mess."

Toshiro wasn't buying it. "That's your only concern?"

Karin sighed. "...No," she admitted. "...I'm not ready for it, Toshiro. I'm too young. I don't even know what my life is going to look like yet. I'm just not there, Toshiro - I'm just not there." But that was only the surface. Karin had many more worries and concerns. Ones that were not as easy to dismiss.

She thought of the last picture that they had taken together: her favorite memory - the picture that had stayed with her in college; the one that her American roommate Susan always asked about. The picture that captured Karin and Toshiro when they were still the same physical age. The memory of when it was okay to love a boy who looked 14, because she was 14 herself.

Now, though, those thoughts weighted down heavily on Karin's mind. For some reason, marriage was like a seal of incrimination; the commitment proving that Karin was far over into dangerous, dangerous territory. Without a formalized commitment, there was plausible deniability. No, I don't sleep with a young boy; Karin could deny. It would be a total lie, but she could say it. She could lie to herself as much as she could lie to someone else. Marriage, though, would make that impossible. Married people have sex. Period. Karin might as well brand the scarlet letter right into her forehead at that point.

Toshiro was still. "Okay."

"You're mad at me, aren't you."

Hitsugaya didn't know the honest answer to that question, but he gave himself the benefit of the doubt. "No."

Karin squeezed him tightly. "I don't like things the way they are, Toshiro. I want more than this. I don't like being apart from you most of the time. I'd much rather see you every day, or even live with you. But I can't. You can't live here. I really can't live there. And I'm not like Ichi-nii or Ruki-nee. They're better than I am, Toshiro. They make it work. But I can't. I just can't get married, Toshiro - it would hurt too much. It already hurts. I don't need something to make it worse."

He sighed. "So then what?"

Karin was almost in tears. Almost, because she didn't cry, but she was almost there. "Why does there have to be 'then'?" she asked sadly. "I'm not going anywhere, Toshiro. It sucks. It really does. But I can't make it worse. I'm still trying to get used to what we have now, and not adjusting fast enough. It's hard, Toshiro. I miss you terribly, all the time."

Toshiro was passive. He didn't know what to think. "Alright."

"I'm sorry," Karin said, her face contorted but her eyes dry. He recognized the expression: Karin was torn. "Please forgive me."

"Yeah," he said halfheartedly.

Karin could tell that she had practically killed him. "How about you ask me again in six months?" she pleaded, hoping that at the very least she could throw him a bone. It was awful of her. She already knew what she would say half a year from now.

He seemed to accept that a bit more positively. "Okay, then. Six months."

"I can't promise my answer will be any different," she warned. "But maybe things will be easier by then. If I'm ready. I don't know that I will be, but at least we can think about it then some more - is that okay?" she asked, worried.

Toshiro shrugged. "Yeah," he exhaled. "I guess."

Karin wanted to do anything to reassure him. She felt like she had ruined everything. "...Can I kiss you? Please?"

He lifted his chin, and she went full press, stumbling him backwards against the shingles. Karin mashed her full body into him; trying to get a reaction; seizing his hair and pulling his face into her.

But Toshiro seemed like a wet fish.

Unable to help herself anymore, tears finally poured out of Karin's eyes and spilled onto his cheek. It was the first time she had cried in an exhaustibly long time. It hurt so badly to cry; to give in; to be so exposed; but it was beyond her control. The tears, though, seemed to catch Toshiro's attention; and he awakened, returning her raw and exposed display of vulnerability with a comforting promise. His hands found themselves gripping her waist tightly, and when their kiss eventually broke, Karin sobbed into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I just can't. I love you too much to be dishonest and pretend that I'm ready for this."

But Toshiro just hushed her and let her cry. He understood. Or at least he hoped he did. He had a pretty good idea of what was going on in Karin's head. It wasn't like they weren't the same questions going on in his.

He didn't have to like it - but he understood. He wasn't angry, he wasn't disappointed. He just understood.

-:-

Toki and Kyon entered their room. The wedding had been an exhausting day for both of them, and they were ready for bed.

Although they were both worn out, Kyon was particularly drained. He wasn't used to sheparding Toki around so much, and minding her took a lot of mental focus and concentration. It was taxing to figure out how to communicate with her. He still could not interpret sign language very well; he had only started learning recently since Toki had begun using it regularly. He could recognize 'yes', 'no', 'please' and 'thank you' pretty easily, as well as 'tired', 'hungry' and 'bathroom'. The basics that were essential for taking care of her. Beyond that, he struggled to understand her most of the time, although that was nothing new for him. Considering that they were totally out of their normal environment today, though, it had been more of a challenge than usual.

Toki was quick to turn on the music - some nice, relaxing Bach - as she began to remove her kimono and undergarments, not minding Kyon's presence. Kyon was still embarrassed by her unabashed display of nakedness around him, although he could never restrain himself from looking. Her inversed complexion - for example, the fact that her back, buttocks, and most of her legs were as dark-skinned as Lady Yoruichi despite her face, hands and feet being extraordinarily pale - always seized his attention. It was one more oddity for a woman who was already odd. Kyon had heard that despite the typical dark complexion in the Shihoin family, they were carriers of albinism; from what Sir Urahara had told him, Lady Yoruichi's sister Yohana had been just as pale as Toki's face and hands. He wondered if Toki was perhaps an indication that the genes went rather far back.

Still in his suit, he watched Toki change into a soft white brushed-cotton nightrobe before turning around to look at him again. More embarrassed than she was about his nudity, Kyon nodded to her politely and took out a set of flannel pajamas from his dresser, and went into the bathroom to change. They were intimate in some ways and not in others - it was weird. Half the time, Kyon found himself trying to be physically distant from her only because he was worried he wouldn't be able to restrain himself otherwise. The incidents of intense, passionate, breath-stealing kissing without any other form of physical embrace that happened two or three times a week now could be very, very trying. Unlike when he was under the NATA's control, he had freedom here to be with her at all times. Temptation was a legitimate bane of his existence. He did not want to do anything that she was not ready for.

When Kyon exited the restroom, he was surprised to see Toki looking at him with her head cocked to the side. She was rarely inquisitive, and he knew to interpret the gesture as one of intense curiousity. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes," she said flatly, and trotted over in an odd shuffle. It was a poor attempt to move in rhythm with the low, graceful melody of the cellos; and she sort of loped in a clumsy way over to him, cocking her head side to side slowly to match the tempo. She stopped only when she was within two inches of him, staring straight ahead into his chest. The faded purplish hair of her head sat underneath Kyon's chin, and she didn't look up at him. It was oddly personal and non-personal at the same time; like she was inspecting one of the buttons on his pajama shirt for a misplaced thread.

Instead, she reached her hand up his shirt and rested the palm of her hand on his chest in a highly scientific manner, like one would conduct an experiment. Kyon didn't mind the personal contact - he actually savored the very intimate-but-not gesture - but to say he was confused would not be an adequate description of the mind-wracking puzzle he had been thrown into.

"Hairy," she remarked, and then removed her hand. Before Kyon could even digest what she had said, she turned around from him abruptly and did her awkward strut over to her bed, where she lay down rather quickly. By the time Kyon could finish absorbing what had happened, she was snoring.

Bizarre, he thought, still smiling. She never snores.

Tired himself, Kyon lay down on the bed on the opposite side of the room and went to sleep. Every day was a new discovery. It was something he loved about her.

-:-

Ichihime could not imagine anything better than this.

She was lying in the lush green grass fields of the Banzo Estate, staring up at the stars. Adame was sprawled out next to her, his hand around hers, and they were recounting all of the things that they had been told about the constellations as children. Ichihime had few stories to tell - her father Tanabi had preferred she learn the astronomy; so while she knew the names of the constellations and when they appeared throughout the year, she did not have much legend to speak of.

Adame, of course, was filled with stories and fables. He recounted stories about the Seven Samurai, the Selecao, the Ga Rei, the Puella Magi, and so many other fascinating tales of myth and legend. There was no doubt he was a helpless romantic; he was well versed in literature and the poems of Kobayishi, Rostigger, Tungsten and Yozaidano. Ichihime was sure she could listen to him laugh and speak forever.

That wasn't to say that they didn't talk about serious matters. They did. Both of them had gone into extended detail about their family relationships. What it was like for both of them to grow up without a mother. Ichihime recounted the many reasons why she had hated her father, and why she had learned to accept that she no longer hated him despite all of those reasons. Adame had discussed life with six brothers, all but one of them older, and the pressures of family business and the stress of tight times and too many father-in-laws that attached heavy prices to their daughter's engagement into his family. Ichihime loved that she could be so open with him, and that he was so open with her. He was so accepting of her; it made it easy.

Adame wasn't perfect - he had flaws. He was, like he confessed without hesitation, a bit of a wuss. She had seen him balk at a garden snake that had been slithering out on her estate. From what she could tell, he could get lost into deep conversations about his work without realizing that it wasn't of general interest. Ichihime accepted him, though, for who he was - and he put her at ease. She was happy he wasn't perfect. If he seemed too perfect, it couldn't be real. And so far, Ichihime was blissfully happy that he was real. He was wonderful.

"Adame-kun?"

"Yes, Ichihime-sama?"

"I don't want to point it out, but you probably have to go home at some point."

"I know," he smiled. "But I am loathe to depart."

"As am I," she nudged, "but I am worried that my majordomo is going to suddenly come and bemoan our lack of a chaperone at such a late hour."

Adame laughed. "I certainly do not wish to find myself in Hoshimura-san's rebuke."

"Tell me about it," Ichihime chuckled. "She gave me an earful this afternoon."

Adame's eyes widened. "She must be rather special if she can give Your Grace an earful and live to tell the tale," he teased.

Ichihime grinned. "Yeah, well, it's one of her privileges as majordomo. Someone has to keep my feet on the ground."

Adame sat up, and Ichihime was raptured by his handsome face in the moonlight. She was sorely tempted to ruffle his hair, but knew that if she did, things would probably snowball to a point where she would get much more than an earful from Makina-chan. "I think your feet are already pretty steadfast on terra firma, Ichihime-sama. Much more than mine."

"One of us has to be the dreamer," she smirked, extending her hand so he could help her up. Once she was off the ground and had dusted herself off, he chivalrously offered his arm. Ichihime took it and they continued down the garden path and towards the manor.

Upon reaching the archway to the overhang that led into the foyer, he let her go and gave a polite bow. "I look forward to seeing you again, Ichihime-sama."

"Me, too," she returned rather lusciously. She was feeling naughty. Not that she could act on such impulses - such things were not befitting of a princess, Ichihime knew - but if he had to leave, Ichihime wished to send him off in a state of wanting more. She had every desire to impress upon him to be quick to return. Daring to let his pulse increase, she stepped to close the gap between them, her smile radiating the call of a siren who would not be silenced.

But the gap never closed - because a bound and gagged Makina was thrown between them. Out of nowhere, Ichihime and Adame were suddenly surrounded by what must have been fifty shinobi, armed with kusari-gama, blades of all sizes, nunchaku, spears, and katars.

-:-

Kyon awoke with a start as he felt someone's knee press into his back and yank his arms back, immobilizing him. He let out a scream but a rubber ball was crammed into his mouth and it came out as nothing more than a muffle.

Adrenaline surging, he struggled and fought, but it was pointless. Ten to fifteen cloak-and-daggered assailants were in his room, and every single one of them's attention was on him. One of them grabbed him by the hair and directed his head to the left, where he saw Toki - who was pinned to the wall with spears jammed through her shoulders and knees; her legs forced wide open. Her robe was tattered and torn; her throat was slit wide and blood was all over her naked chest. Her neatly groomed patch of rich plum hair, exposed against the darker skin of her stomach and thighs, was stained with blood.

Oh my god.

Oh my god, oh my god.

No. They didn't - they didn't -

Oh my god - No, no - no! No! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

*SNAP*

And then there was void.

-:-

"Adame-kun," Ichihime whispered as she quickly took out Makina's gag. She was unconscious. "Can you carry her inside?"

He nodded and hoisted up Makina's unconscious body in between them. "Ichihime-sama - I know you're accomplished, but- are you sure?"

"I got this," Ichihime answered confidently with the burning eyes of a determined demon. "Take her and go!"

Adame exhaled, shook his head as if to clear a panicky disbelief, and rushed inside with Makina slumped over his shoulder.

A leathery yellow gargoyle-like oni danced across from Ichihime's line of vision. Ichihime recognized Shiji's mischievous smirk across his beakish face, but she was surprised to see him in the public view. She had only seen him face-to-face in meditation.

"Of course we got this," Shiji said to her - and although Ichihime could hear him in her ears, she somehow understood that the communication was still telepathic. "We can handle it, can't we, Hime-sama?"

Oh yes we can, Shiji. They picked a fight with the wrong shinigami.

Ichihime floodgated her reiatsu. As a pure-blooded House noble, even below captain level, her spiritual pressure was enormous. The earth quaked and rattled, the air hummed and distorted, and those assailants who made up the second-rate tier of buffoonery were unable to withstand it. Paralyzed under her wave of reishi, her next move was simple:

"Hado #4: White Lightning," she recited. "Bang."

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. One by one, she shot the nobodies down to the ground; ending their lives without a moment's hesitation. No one attacks Banzo Ichihime and expects not to suffer the consequences. By the time Ichihime reigned in her soulcore, ceasing the gushing flow of spirit-crushing power, there was only one left. He had clearly been able to move and had a bakudo shield up to defend himself. He was obviously the one in charge.

For him, Ichihime withdrew her tanto. It felt so right to withdraw it from its new home in the heat of battle. "Hey punk, do you have a name?"

The dark-clad shinobi withdrew a nodachi that was nearly five times the reach of her knife. "For what purpose do you need to know my name?"

"To write it on your tombstone, you dumb shithead."

The ninja laughed. "My name is Nakatsu. None who ask to hear it live to tell another's ears."

Ichihime raised her free hand to him open palm, and then curled her fingers up in the universal gesture of Bring It On. "Spare me your ego trip, Sphincter Face. Just fight me and die already."

He cocked his blade, and in a vanishing flash of shunpo, the battle began.

-:-

"Kami-sama! Are you okay?"

Shihoin Toyuki Tokine looked up at her zanpakutou in her inner world. "Jen - I-"

Genesis wrapped herself around the poor woman. "It's okay, it's okay - I'm here. I'm here. We're together. Everything will be okay."

Toyuki cried and sobbed and cried in the safety of her private space; the private blackness that was completely still and did not disturb her with unnecessary stimuli. It was her safety; her safety against a world that had gifted her and punished her with extraordinary sensory perception. It was the only place where she could shut out everything - the light, the sound, the violent thrusting and the dripping of sweat on her forehead and all of the other sensations that were occurring somewhere else. It was not that she did not feel it - she did - but here, she was detached; disconnected and safe with no one to judge her. There were no muscles and lungs and pharynx here; no force of expelling air from her lungs; it was only consciousness. A consciousness that could be free; free from the prison of sensation that her body gave her.

Free from the heavy weight of a hooded man pressed up against her, with his smell of tumblegrass mixed with toejam and masked with wraithsmoke berries; free from the sounds of his grunting and hurking and gyrating. She was just a consciousness that could be free from all of those palpable corporeal experiences of the physical world. She stayed in that inner-spirited embrace of her tanto's freedom for a long time, knowing that if she left the safety of her sanctuary, she would not survive the beastly encounter with the reality outside.

Eventually, after an eternity's time to a stream of consciousness, her external form was lethally incised and left to wither and die; with no more need for her anatomical container to possess the power of sensation. With this interaction removed, Toyuki was free to dwell on what she should do now. With sudden clarity of mind that could only come from the excessively segmented thoughtwork of Shihoin Tokine, she stopped crying and gasped. "Oh no - what about Kyon? Jen, they're going to kill Kyon! We have to do something!"

Genesis stroked her fingers through her God's hair. The time for living had passed. Kami-sama was not of this time; she was of an era that had long passed on during her exile. There were no easy answers, but she humored her master anyway. "Tell me, Kami-sama - tell me what to do, and I shall obey. But I fear that you will find no path to travel."

"I don't know what to do!" Toki cried. "I've never had to fight anyone! I don't know how to hurt people, Jen!"

Her zanpakutou hugged her tightly, resigned to fate. "Then don't fight. We can die here together."

"NO!" Toki shouted, in tears. "I can't just die! Kyon needs me!"

"I only have dominion over life," Genesis whispered sadly. "I am sorry, Kami-sama. We are not at that junction."

Toki's eyes steeled as she pouted in a giant temper tantrum. "I refuse, Jen! I refuse!"

The feather-winged lady before her did not understand. "Refuse what?"

Toki shoved her manifested omega spirit away; surprising the ancient cherub. Her God was never one to feel anger. "Kaseira-sama was murdered because I couldn't save him," Toki bawled. "Trevor-kun became a hollow because I didn't have the heart to send him on. I will not let another fall while I sit idle, Jen!"

"You are brave to want to help, Kami-sama," Genesis praised her with a saddened sigh. "But what can you do?"

Toki stomped her foot. "Everything - now give me your power!"

"My power?" Genesis laughed. "You may be my God, Kami-sama, but you cannot seize my power."

"Then I will take it from you!"

Genesis sighed, like a sad mother who knows their child cannot understand the complex realities of the real world. "Accept the truth, Kami-sama. We have lost again."

"THAT IS NOT THE TRUTH!" Toki screamed, and forced her way out of her inner world. I will create my own truth!

-:-

Blades clashed as the two warriors flashed all over the courtyard, engaged in a high stakes battle of rapid-movement sword strikes. Clashing sparks against the echoes of clanging metal were the only sights to see.

Under the intense strikes of steel against brass, Ichihime carefully recited a hado spell that was probably too high for her reach, but hoped the stress of battle would force it out of her. "Hands in the iron curtain / Radiate splendor of the broken fist / Channel the sun of the moon on high / Echo over the ravenous carverns - Hado #59: Purple Shockwave!"

The spell, which was casted with a full incantation but with only of of the two normal hand movements, was pushing the upper cusp of Ichihime's ability, and she barely succeeded. The outward slice of searing purple radiation was not very potent, but it was enough to tear into Nakatsu's ribs, arms, and chest. It paused the hypersonic cascade of brass on steel, and both paused to assess the state of play.

"Hey punk," Ichihime said. "You got anything better for me? 'Cause really, you put Makina-chan in ropes. You realize now that I'm just gonna pack you up in a body bag, right?"

Nakatsu snorted. "Interlace, Deathline."

Ichihime taunted him, fanning her fingers out in complete mockery. "Oooh - shikai! Look, now you've got lots of crazy spikes all over your body! Ooooooh, scary! C'mon, time to fight a giant porcupine who's too scared to show his own face!"

He responded only with a charge right at her.

What a sucker, Ichihime grinned. "Hado #33: Sokatsui." BOOM.

But despite his whole body lit on fire as it collided with the explosion (considerably larger than average, given Ichihime's reiatsu levels), Nakatsu charged through, and a spiked hook caught Ichihime through the cheek. A flick of his hand sent her hurtling through the dirt, proving to Ichihime that she had a serious fight on her hands for a change.

Still burning like a banshee on fire, Nakatsu approached. It seemed as though it didn't faze him one bit.

Ichihime got to her feet. Too bad she sucked at medical kido. She could really use it right now to staunch the bleeding hole in her face. As if I'm not ugly enough, she muttered mentally.

On the plus side, her ridiculously foofy pomp-and-circumstance yellow Head-of-House kimono had been completely ruined. She would never have to wear it again. Praise the ancestors. Her father would have been furious, which made Ichihime a bit proud. I always wanted to have a good excuse to scuff this thing up.

"But I suppose it's time to get serious, Hime-sama. Don't you think?" the oni asked, his leathery wings flapping him afloat over her shoulder.

Eager today, aren't we?

"It's not everyday we get to call someone a punk, you know. And then to be allowed to beat the shit out of him? C'mon, Hime-sama, that's just a bonus!"

How true, Ichihime smirked. "Scream, Shiji," she commanded, morphing her tanto into its giant-boomerang shikai form. You want to see fire, Bigshot Punk? Alright, let's do fire.

-:-

Toyuki's eyes snapped open, and the searing pain in her body was astonishing. She immediately snapped her eyes back shut. The overload into her sensory nerves - oh Kami-sama, my pelvis hurts; it hurts, oh God it hurts so bad - was beyond anything she had ever experienced. The urge to cry and sob and heave was exceedingly intense, grave and demanding and begging for death to come swiftly so that she would not have to live with the mental and physical affliction.

A shower, her mind screamed. Oh God I want to wash this all away; oh god it hurts, itai itai itai itai... All she wanted to do more than anything in her entire life was scour away every moment of this traumatizing experience; to sit under burning, scalding hot water until it flooded away everything under a torrential downpour of soap and lythe and detergent. She could never be clean from this human stain; she was marked, tainted, damaged; she wanted to scrub and scrub and scrub at that stain with a shower so hot that only the Fires of Hell could compare.

She labored to overcome it. It took her entire focus to shut out the pain; the sensation of blood dripping off her toes; the foreign sticky ichor dribbling down to her knee; wood scraping against bone; it was beyond and beyond. One by one, she forced the tactile inputs out of her mind, cutting off her consciousness, detaching herself from the dizzying stimuli. Toki dared not open her eyes, or else the visual intake would throw her into a spiraling tizzy. It took every last shred of concentration - it was harder than the one time she had completely regrown a shinigami's heart - but she taxed herself, ignoring the pain and the shame and the agony and bitter chill against her bared skin. She shut down to a nearly comatose state, preventing her mind from accepting physical and even emotional input as much as she could.

With a struggle, she forced the air through her lungs and up into her torn throat; pushing the short, shallow gusts of oxygen, carbon dioxide, argon, and other gases against her injured vocal chords; feeling them twitter and twang to form pitch and sound as the vibrations were then channeled and shaped by her tounge, teeth, and lips into low, soft words. It was the complex process of human speech that nearly everyone else took for granted as an autonomic reflex; but for Toki was a constant excercise in muscle and nerve coordination. With a perseverance and determination that she had rarely before felt, the words were given birth in reality as they exited her mouth. They were words she knew well.

"Subsist from the void, create and live, give birth from nothingness - Begin the Universe, the Right Hand of God, Genesis the Creator," she recited softly, releasing her zanpakutou. She wasn't holding it. It was under her pillow, where she put it when she slept. But she had such a strong telepathic link with her tanto that it didn't matter. She could feel it shrink into its pocket-sized utility knife form, and then she was ready.

Heal, she commanded Genesis via her mind; and it listened against its will. The spears in her shoulders and knees began to be forced out of her body as Toyuki felt the grinding, churning sensation of her bones regrowing. Muscles and sinews reweaved themselves, knitting her nerves and capillaries and veins and tissue back into place, pushing out the foreign objects as there was no place for them left in the healing flesh. Her throat and vocal chords began to piece back together, slowly stitching themselves with a thread of reishi no wider than a molecule across. Toyuki's spleen and liver kicked into overdrive, creating and releasing new blood to replace that which she had lost. It was dehydrating, but it was better than dying.

The throbbing ache in her hymen disappeared (but not the ache in her heart) as it, too, pieced back together. Her mind began to try its best to undo the trauma, squelching the neurochemical transmitters that governed fear, flight, anguish, anger, and sadness; and stimulating the areas of the brain that induced peace, calmness, and relaxation. It would not remove the inflamed mental scar of victimization, but the ultra-high doses of seratonin and dopamine would soften it enough for her to function, at least for the short term.

Weak from this intense physical process, Toyuki collapsed to the floor as the last spear pinning her to the wall came loose from its purchase, and Toki yelped in pain as the fall pushed them back in even deeper. She shifted her weight until she was lying on her side, where she breathed in and out slowly as the process of ejecting the foreign objects began again. It was at least twenty minutes, but Toki was an extremely patient woman. Eventually, her zanpakutou powers won out; and she was in control of her body again. She was still severely dehydrated, and with a stumbling, awkward crawl, Toyuki wormed and skiddled until she reached the bathroom in her sleeping quarters. Her vision was intensely blurry and her head was swirling - she could barely see more than two inches in front of her in focus.

With nothing more on her mind than a desperate need to give her body sustenance so that it could continue regenerating, Toyuki hauled herself to her feet, bending over the sink until she could let the faucet flood her mouth with life-saving hydration. With her healing accelerated, Toyuki endured the physical sensation of her lymphatic system sucking up the water and pushing it through her circulatory system. Her vision was still extraordinarily cloudy, and her ears seemed to be inable to hear anything.

I need electrolytes, she reasoned. Salt. Sugar.

Her body restored with considerably more energy now that it had enough liquid to properly pump blood through her body, she walked as fast as she could without falling over to her refridgerator. She quickly swallowed some leftover smoked-salmon sushi and downed a small container of grapefruit juice. Her system responded nearly immediately, and her heart started pumping at an increased rate as she began to feel the renal valve in her kidneys open and inject ephedrine into her bloodstream. The adrenaline immediately shocked her into full-form function, and her vision and hearing were suddenly sucking in a dark night's world of stimuli. Her brain registered proper function, and the dozens of mathematical equations that made up her everyday consciousness fixed into place; clicking and ticking and spinning like a clockwork engine.

She was back from the dead.

Kyon!

Tokine rushed to his bed. His neck had been broken, and just like her, he had been left to die - but by an unusual twist of God's Fate he was still alive. His reishi was still there. His brain was dead, his heart was dead, but his soul was still there. As a human already phased into the 5th dimension, he was incredibly lucky - his soul was trying to phase laterally into the 5th but it was already there, so it was still in his body. Toki knew she had only moments left before the phase distortion would corrupt, but it was seconds that she was incredibly lucky to have.

She rushed quickly to her bed and seized her pocket knife from under her pillow. Jen -

I cannot bring back the dead.

OH YES YOU CAN, Toki yelled back. Because he's not dead! DO IT!

But -

NOW!

- There is nothing you can do but use your own life source, Kami-sama. You will have to give up half your life to give him half of his. Are you willing to give up three thousand years for him to have only fifty? Seventy?

WHAT KIND OF RIDICULOUS QUESTION ARE YOU ASKING ME?

Half your life is half of my life, too!

That is what love is! I gave him my life a long time ago, Jen! Giving him only half of it isn't even the price I was already willing to pay!

But-!

MOVE EARTH AND HEAVEN IF YOU HAVE TO, GENESIS, BEFORE I WALK IN THERE AND BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU - REVIVE!, she commanded her pocket knife, and it was forced to obey. She flooded his body with reishi, resparking his brain, which resparked his autonomic system. His heart began to beat.

Thank Kami-sama, Toki thought. His spinal chord wasn't severed. This will be infinitely easier.

Over the next forty-five minutes, she mended his broken neck using standard healing kido, reoxygenated his bloodstream using mouth to mouth to pump air into his lungs; ignoring the stimulation of his facial hair against her face. She had used up too much reiatsu healing herself to exclusively use her zanpakutou, but normal medical kido was like breathing for Toyuki; and while it was slow, the progress was steady. She would need to use her zanpakutou to synthesize the pharmaceuticals needed to repair his myocardial infarction and other organ damage, since she didn't have immediate access to a 4th division emergency pharmacy kit; but the broken bones, cuts, scrapes, and bruises were easy. She removed the rubber ball from his mouth when it was safe to move his head, and anticipated him waking in about 2 hours, 13 minutes, and 26.6781116 seconds. He would likely have a crushing headache and a dry mouth, but at least he wasn't dead. Toki was positive he would much prefer a headache and cottony mouth than being cremated.

As soon as she had finished using Genesis to synthesize the last medicines he needed directly in his bloodstream, a horrifying thought popped into her mind: Oh no - Zarina-chan!

Toyuki took one last look at Kyon. He would be okay - thank God, thank God, thank God, he would be okay. She wouldn't be, but at least he would be fine.

She kissed his bloody face, quickly changed into a clean yukata, and dashed off.

This chapter was challenging to edit - on several occasions I thought it was too graphic, and then after editing, felt it was too abstract given what actually happens. Hopefully I struck a balance that adequately describes the abased horror with a sense of measured restraint. Reviews would be greatly appreciated. Next chapter: A very unexpected but long overdue reunion.