It had seemed so certain, what would happen after the war.
Rukia often thought of it, under the comforting silence of the night and the refuge of darkness. Renji continued to sleep soundly beside her, his large hand resting at her waist. He snored softly, as he always did. She lay facing away from him and stared at the wall. The surface was a swirl of images, a canvas of memories from long ago. There was comfort in it, sometimes.
She remembered how it was, so many years ago, and how she would steal moments away to reflect on foolish matters such as feelings, and love. Brief, peaceful times that punctuated battles and war. She allowed herself to dream of what could be. The idea of a future, bright and promising, was an indulgence.
It was an absurdity during the Quincy war. The first wave was brutal- so many lost, with fear and uncertainty raging throughout the surviving ranks. As she lay recovering in the Fourth Division, she heard the whispers- the pervasive doubt that spread, questions of survival in the face of impossible odds.
She would gather what strength remained in her broken and beaten form. She would speak up to berate them for thinking such things, an intensity coming to her words that took them off guard. "We will not fail," she said.
They would stare, always, taken aback; and ask the source of her certainty and her strength.
She would smile, faintly. "Ichigo."
She remembered when they turned the tide of battle, the renewed strength they gained together from the Soul King's Realm. The indomitable invaders became mere casualties of war. Bambietta Basterbine. Mask De Masculine. Äs Nödt. Askin Nakk Le Vaar. Gerard Valkyrie. Jugram Haschwalth.
Yhwach.
Then, the war was over.
There was no question of her feelings, by then, after months and years of denial and sleepless nights dwelling on the matter. By the time Soul Society was finally saved, there was no question of her heart.
She found time to see him. Somehow, she stole away moments in the living world simply to enjoy his company. Even an hour here, an hour there. But it was enough. She craved every second she could be with him, from fighting errand hollows to simply sitting beside him during a family meal. He was a healing presence against the grief and fatigue of spirit left from the war.
Her feelings grew from a mere whisper to a force in its own right, one that threatened to overwhelm her, brought by a mere glance at his amber eyes, or when he smiled in that way that verged on a smirk. Countless times and moments that made her feel like a young girl, foolish and consumed by her feelings.
But there was still the doubt that lingered. She knew him thoroughly, save for his heart. Did he dream of her when they were separated, as she did? Did he feel a lightness in his chest at the mere mention of her name?
She tried, once, to speak of it.
But she could not find the words. The admission died on her lips, her resolve wavering as frigid fear overcame her, a dread she could feel in her bones.
Did he see her in that way? When they gazed at one another, was it the warmth of love, connecting their hearts? Or was it merely the bond forged from battle? The risk of truth, cold and unflinching, loomed over her for days and then weeks.
Time continued to pass as she mulled over it.
If she shared her heart with him, would she tarnish the bond between them? Would it start to wither and fade?
Could she bear to hear him deny her? To hear the words? To see the contempt in his eyes?
It filled her with uneasiness that stole away sleep in the night and robbed her of all courage. Her chest would ache at the mere thought- Of the damage that would be done to her heart, if her worst fears were confirmed. So fragile she felt, still, thirty years after Kaien's death.
It was truly despicable.
Then, she received her answer, the question still left unsaid. Something had changed since her last visit. It was obvious to her the newfound look in Ichigo's eyes. It was a different sort of gaze; There was a softness to it, a tenderness. But it was not for her. No, she could only watch as he looked at Orihime in that way. It wasn't long before she realized it was the look of a man in love.
It was a quick, merciless blow. The pain was familiar, one she'd known before, decades ago. She hid it behind rigid smiles and words of encouragement. Her pain would be masked, the happiness of her friends more important than the state of her heart. She would deal with her wounds, of her heartbreak, in secret, as she had always done.
The rest was a blur. For days, weeks, then months, moments and memories were lost to a violent haze. It was the price of her cowardice, or of simply being less compared to the other. Life passed in a mist of distant voices and mindless wondering. Her visits to the human world became sparse, brief. It was all she could bear.
She was left with nothing, then. Her resolve crumbled, her chest tight and heavy.
Then… She was with Renji.
The memories were vague, blurred.
"Rukia?"
She glanced up, sharply. Her eyes darted wildly to see her surroundings, suddenly in an office at the Noble Assembly. She found herself sitting at a desk with Renji at her side. There was a form sitting on the desk, a pen clutched in her hand.
She blinked, struggling to reconcile it.
"You need to sign," Renji said, excitement coloring his tone. "Then you'll be an Abarai!"
Rukia stared at the paper. It was there - 'Rukia Abarai' printed - with the empty line that awaited her final signature. The pen was held tightly in her hand, and she turned it slightly in her fingers, watching, as if for the first time.
Rukia… Abarai…?
Her eyes widened as her body reacted sharply. A chill swept through her, starting at her limbs. Her breathing threatened to turn shallow. There was a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach, and a weight, an oppressiveness that overcame her. It was not from words. It was from feeling- the same feeling one had in battle when there was a threat. Instinct.
Her grip tightened on the pen, imperceptibly.
"Rukia?" Renji asked, distant and small.
Is this my future?
The doubt surprised her. Logically, she knew she was in love and was excited to be married. Yes… That was right. But knowing that did nothing to lessen the anxiety that filled her.
Her composure was secured through years of Kuchiki training, her reaction hidden from the outside world. "...No," she said, finally, curtly. "I will not change my name in the Gotei 13."
Renji recoiled beside her. "What?! But-"
"I will not," she said, firmer than she felt. "I will remain a Kuchiki as my Shinigami name."
There was a pause. Then he let out the barest of sighs. "If you're sure…"
"Yes," she said.
Then, they were married.
The images played out in front of her slowly. Details were lost on her, sounds muted. She only remembered seeing his shock of orange hair sitting in the crowd. Her eyes went to him out of reflex, as if he were a lifeline in a sea of strangers. He smiled at her- there was no comfort in his gaze, no longing, no regret at seeing her married in front of him. No, he merely sat there with Orihime at his side.
She remembered the distant feeling of standing across from her husband-to-be. She remembered how to keep her composure, outwardly, for her brother's benefit, and to retain what pride she had left. She ignored the sickening feeling in her gut and the urge to flee. Perhaps it was normal to feel that way. But there was no reason for it- They would be happy, she rationally knew.
She would be with a man she loved.
Time continued to pass, vaguely, save for scattered moments still held in her memory. She remembered the day clearly when she'd heard the news of Ichigo's engagement. Orihime was glowing with excitement. Ichigo smiled, gazing at her.
They did not notice when Rukia staggered backward, ever so slightly, having to sit in a chair to keep the room from spinning more than it already was. They only noted the carefully held smile forced to her expression and the words of congratulations she shared, too blinded by their feelings to see the slight tremble of her lips and the emptiness in her eyes.
It was despicable. She was a married woman- What did it matter, that her friends found happiness with each other?
Yes, they would be happy- all of them, as it should have been.
She repeated the thought to herself, a mantra of reassurance. It did little.
It should not be this way.
The thought came to her at the most unexpected of times, intrusive and piercing.
It was a constant specter that followed her. At first, it seemed as if the thought came and went. It seemed to shake her enough to weaken her resolve, as if to rattle and test her strength just enough for it to waver. It prowled for the seconds she would let down her guard, the rare moments she found peace. Then, just as quickly as it came, it would disappear once more.
In the darkness of their bedroom, she lay awake. Renji knew nothing of her restless nights and hours spent staring at the blank wall, away from him.
"Renji?" she asked, softly.
He grunted, foggy from sleep. "Yeah?"
"Can you tell me how it happened?" she asked.
"...'How what happened?"
She frowned, struggling to find the proper words. "How we got together?"
There was silence as he struggled to understand the question and fend off sleep. "Mmh? ...Don't ya remember?"
She frowned, her brows furrowing. The details were lost to her. "Humor me," she said simply.
He grunted and shifted beside her. His voice was slurred from sleep, almost mumbled. "...Ya know. After the war, I finally told ya... How I felt, 'an all."
"...Is that it?"
He shifted to prop himself up on an elbow. "What'da mean, 'That's it'? Don't ya remember? I talked to yer brother first... Then I told ya."
All too aware of his gaze on her, she managed a small smile and nod. "Ah… Yes, that's right. I remember, now."
He smiled down at her and leaned down for a kiss- she returned it out of habit, practiced. Before he could say or do anything else, she turned her face away from him. She suppressed a shiver.
It was wrong, somehow. Yet she remembered her love for him, how they had found each other after years apart, and started lives together. Yes, she could remember it, now- hazy and faint, but still there.
I am with the man I love.
She repeated the thought in her mind, willing herself to believe it.
With a sigh, she resigned herself to sleep.
"Kuchiki-san?"
Rukia glanced up, sharply. She was standing in front of a sink, in the living world- An urgent glance around her revealed the kitchen of the Kurosaki house. Orihime was standing beside her with a stack of dishes.
She blinked, placing a hand on the counter to steady herself. The realization hit her at once, blunt and unexpected.
"Are you okay, Kuchiki-san?" Orihime stood in front of her, eyes full of concern.
Rukia managed a small smile. "Yes… I'm fine, Orihime. I was merely distracted."
They were washing dishes at the end of dinner. She, Renji, and Ichika were visiting the living world. Chad's boxing match would be on television.
"I'm glad," Orihime said with a smile.
Once finished with the dishes, they moved to the living room where everyone sat bunched together in the small space. Her gaze fell to the empty seat next to Renji, then saw Orihime as she moved to sit next to her husband.
Rukia could not look at him, a sudden tightness felt in her chest and hitch to her breath. She froze where she stood in the doorway, as if her feet would not move.
They did not notice her, focused on the television instead. Her gaze drifted, up from the ground, hesitantly up to Ichigo. He draped an arm around Orihime's shoulders, pulling her against him. He smiled- and Rukia was forced to look away, sharply. It hit her quickly and without warning- the heaviness in her chest, the shuddering breaths she took. After a moment, she managed to collect herself. No one had noticed, still.
But then, it passed. She righted herself and frowned in thought. The picture before her was perfect. Nearly all of her close friends and family were gathered together, sitting happily and reveling in the peace they had earned. The struggles of a decade ago were long past. It could have been the end of a fairy tale, like the stories she long devoured from the living world.
The doubt returned. Its tendrils snaking into her thoughts, casting a shadow over all of it. Then, a jarring sensation, as if she were watching someone else stand in her place.
It should not be this way.
The thought was unexpected, then. She frowned, the setting before her forgotten. Something crept over her that was gradual, faint. An instinct felt that could not be put into words, much like in battle. She shook her head in irritation. It was as if she had forgotten something, just out of reach, on the tip of her tongue.
"Oi! Rukia! Yer missing it!" Renji called.
Rukia moved to sit next to him in the small space left on the couch. The fight started just a minute or so before, and Chad was introduced with flashy images and dramatic narration. He'd grown over the past several years.
Something echoed, faintly. A murmur of a voice that was barely heard.
Rukia glanced up from the television to search the room. No one else moved, still fixated on the match.
"Did you hear that?" she asked.
"Hear what?" Renji asked.
She frowned. "I thought I heard a voice, just now."
The match was about to start. Chad and his opponent were standing in the ring, the referee between them. Cheers started to echo throughout the room from her friends.
"Sure it wasn't yer Zanpakuto?" Renji asked, half listening, his gaze still firmly on the television.
She reached out to Sode no Shirayuki, only for the spirit to deny anything was said. Strange.
There was a thud upstairs and a flare in her daughter's reiatsu. Instantly she was on her feet, her heart in her throat, racing up the stairs. She threw open the door to Ichigo's old room. Ichika sat on the ground with glossy eyes and quivering lips, cradling her arm. Kazui stood next to her, crying.
Rukia was at her daughter's side instantly. She nearly let out a sigh in relief- it was a minor thing, so small, not the sort of danger she feared. Ichika's arm was red and irritated, and she sat not far from a dresser with a sharp corner.
"It was an accident!" Kazui cried.
Rukia took Ichika's arm in a gentle grip to inspect it. It was nothing more than a surface bruise, with no sign of a broken bone. She began the healing kido, sighing as Ichika protested and complained, saying it wasn't her fault, that they were only playing. Kazui felt equally guilty, and he accepted his own mother's comfort readily.
"You should be more careful, Ichika," she said, her voice streaked with reprimand. "You are still young." Too young to be playing unattended, especially in the living world.
She paused, her hand still hovering over Ichika. Was no one watching the children?
Then, it was time to leave- quicker than she expected, sudden. It had grown dark, and the match had lasted over two hours. The Kurosakis gathered to see them off while Renji lifted Ichika and held her against his shoulder.
They bid goodbyes with waves and gentle hugs. Rukia paused, bringing herself to meet Ichigo's gaze. He smiled in a way that was far too familiar, like the ones he had for her a decade ago.
She forced a curt smirk to her lips before looking away.
At night, the lingering questions that plagued her only grew, as did a pervasive sense of something she could not pinpoint.
She contemplated asking about it. Merely asking questions to see if she was alone in feeling that way. Renji, Nii-sama… They were perfectly content with the world as it was. No, better yet- they were happy. She understood why, given the long journey to their current peace, and the family they had rebuilt. They deserved to be happy. She wished for them to be, truly.
But they did not seem concerned with the world, as she was. She was alone in her sudden moments of thought. The confusion over where she was, at times, and the unsettling feeling that filled her all too often.
"...Rukia-sama!"
She jerked upright, glancing around sharply for the source. They were sitting around the table for dinner, at the manor. Renji and Nii-sama looked at her inquisitively.
"What is it?" her brother asked.
She blinked, her eyes sweeping the room once more.
"Did you hear that?"
The men looked at each other and shook their heads.
The voice- it was the same cadence as what she'd heard before, but it was louder, clearer. The voice was pleading and frantic. Another moment passed before she recognized it.
'Sode No Shirayuki?' she called out within her mind.
The spirit's familiar presence soothed her in an instant, a stark feeling against Rukia's disoriented state. 'Yes, Rukia-sama?'
'Did you call to me?'
'No, I have said nothing,' the spirit said, her tone utterly calm. 'Is something the matter, Rukia-sama?'
Rukia paused, the silence stretching on. 'No,' she said.
She frowned, looked down at her unfinished meal on the table. There was that feeling of something wrong, rushing towards her from the recesses of her mind that brought a sudden clarity.
It was wrong.
But there was no reason for it. It was a peaceful afternoon, spent with those she cared about. Ichika was in another room with her caretaker. Rukia was married to a man she loved. She was blessed with a brother who cared for her. All needs were met, easily, with the resources of the Kuchiki clan. She was the respected captain of the Thirteenth Division. It was a life she'd only dreamed of as an orphan in the streets of Rukongai. There were many, still, who could never hope to have such a life.
Yet the emptiness filled her- that much had become certain over time. No, it was more than that. A dread started to creep within her, gradually, perhaps over years. She was only sensing it now. But why? A shiver ran through her.
Why is it wrong?
Air caught in her lungs. She jerked forward with a cough, violent and harsh. Pain sparked in her chest that was made worse with the movement, like sharp needles all at once. She winced, hissing out of reflex. It only made her cough more. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle it.
"...Rukia!" Renji shifted at her side in an instant. She could feel her brother's gaze on her, as well, the concern unspoken but clear enough.
Slowly, her breathing evened out. The pain subsided. She did not look up at either of them.
"...I'm fine."
"Are ya sure?"
She focused on each breath. The rhythm was off, harder than it should have been. She glanced briefly at her palm and saw dark speckles there. But she quickly moved her hand before it could be seen. "Yes," she said. "I'm fine." Resolutely, she looked at her plate and resumed her meal with what calm, collected movements she could muster.
"You should go to the Fourth about that. I keep telling ya," Renji said.
Her brow furrowed in confusion. What was he talking about? It was one moment of coughing- No, that wasn't right. She remembered, then, other moments when she coughed and her body felt weak, heavy. She'd dismissed them as minor inconveniences when someone else was present, and hid them as much as she could.
It was logically sound, but it did nothing to satiate her. Something else struck her, wounding her to the core- A worry so deeply held she wouldn't speak of it for fear of making it real.
It was all too similar to the stories she heard about her sister. She'd asked for information, long ago, from Kuchiki servants and members of the Fourth Division. Coughing, weakness, lack of energy- it was the blood that set it apart from other things, made worse in the final weeks of the illness. Sometimes memory loss and confusion.
Then, she was in a room at the Fourth Division. She stared downwards at the ground with one hand holding the other. Her hand shook slightly from nerves.
She waited. The long silence was torturous and menacing. She could sense it eyeing her resolve like helpless prey.
Hanatarou entered the room. She looked up at him, desperately- but no words were needed. She could see it in his expression- a facade of calm which threatened to give way to grief, an unsaid apology on his lips.
Rukia shut her eyes. Her breathing grew ragged, not from disease. "You must tell no one."
He stuttered. "But, Rukia-"
"Please," she said, almost a whisper. She bowed her head forward. "Please… Promise me," she said, broken desperation streaking her voice.
She tried not to think what that would mean for the life she had left, what she could and could no longer do. Far stronger than that was the worry and despair, the long, torturous pain she would inflict against her will upon those she loved. She would break Nii-sama's heart the same way as before. Just as he had begun to heal. Meanwhile, Renji would be left all but alone, and their daughter would be without a mother.
They would see her wither away, painfully and slowly. It would kill their spirits long before she finally passed. She would be another face on the shrine, as her sister, a bittersweet memory that would leave them no rest.
The intensity of it threatened to overwhelm her all within an instant. She dipped her head even further, hoping she could keep her breathing even and silent.
Then, it came once again- She felt it, stronger now than she ever had. It was no longer a thought teased within her mind, but a firm fact of the world that she now understood.
This is wrong.
She could feel it down to her bones, filling her to the core. Every fiber of her being said that it was wrong. Terribly wrong. The overwhelming desire to run away pervaded every other thought, an instinctive sense familiar through years of training and battle.
Her instinct told her to run. She had no idea where- only that she needed to, with new urgency, to move and get as far away as she could. It was foolish; she was in the Fourth Division, and she was tired. Yes, she remembered now- she'd grown more tired in recent weeks.
Pain ripped through her chest. She stumbled, catching herself from falling at the last moment. She coughed, blood coming more readily now to the hand raised to her mouth. She was outside in the Kuchiki manor courtyard- A pair of strong hands gripped her shoulders, gently. Startled, she glanced up to see Nii-sama beside her. Her eyes widened, her body shaking at the terrible realization.
In desperation she turned away, tried to cover her pained expression and the blood on her hand as best she could. Hiding. But her resolve wavered, fell. It was too late.
She could not bear to see him, to see the haunted look in his eyes. The pain healed over years, resurrected in a terrible familiarity, a specter of his past thought gone. His escape was short-lived, so agonizingly brief. It was her own fault. She was the source of anguish, now. Pain.
Her fingers gripped the sleeves of her kimono harshly.
It should not be this way.
The thought was louder than before. She clung to it, now, desperate and afraid. She held onto it amidst the images of her dear family mourning her each day, bearing the burden of her slow death, images of her frailty growing worse, the passage of time both a curse and a promise of future mercy. It was too much to bear; their tears, their grief. Hopelessness filled her being, paralyzing her.
It should not be this way!
It was a flicker of hope in the threat of despair. It was all she had. She was terrified, but the flame still burned despite it. Even as her chest filled with needles and she struggled to breathe.
She was standing in a forest clearing, then.
"Rukia!" Ichigo's voice rang out, cutting through the haze.
Disoriented, she glanced sharply around- they were in Soul Society. A hollow loomed nearby with a bellowing roar. Ichigo stood not far away, his sword drawn and held at the ready.
"Ichigo!" she shouted. It was a reflexive cry. They were flanking the hollow- Were they? She cast a glance around once more, grasping at the reality of it. How long had she been there?
The hollow's long tail flung forward. She flash-stepped out of the way, leaving a trail of dust and debris from the attack. Ichigo was fighting closer ahead, swiping and leaping around the hollow's large mask.
She moved to help- but hesitated. Her foot would not move.
Strategies filled her mind easily from experience and training. But something else called- another instinct, like before, that it was wrong, that she needed to simply get away from it at all costs.
Something twisted in her gut. She grit her teeth, torn.
This is wrong!
How did it happen? Why didn't she remember? Something whispered to her, that it was the confused musings in the mind of a dying woman. Was it?
The hollow charged at her. She tried to dodge- instead doubling over as she was wracked with painful coughs. She struggled to stay upright. Her frame shook, she grit her teeth and tried to move-
A dark form flew in front of her. Blood splattered in the air, soaking her.
Sounds faded away.
She could only watch as Ichigo stumbled and fell. Blood trailed behind him in large dark splotches that pooled readily on the ground.
"Ichigo!"
He fell. There was blood, everywhere. A wave of nausea threatened her at the sight. Her throat tight and hoarse- she'd been yelling his name, still.
"...Ichigo." she croaked. Her vision blurred, her throat raw. She moved to start healing kido, a futile effort. But he was too badly hurt, there was too much blood…
Everything crumbled inside of her. She thought of him and the life he wouldn't get to lead, the family and friends forever wounded by the loss, left to try in vain to heal from it. It was as she feared, as she always feared.
It was because of her that he lived a life of violence and bloodshed, enduring far too much in his short life.
"...Ru...kia…" he breathed.
She clutched his hand tightly, shaking.
It was because of her that he would be denied the full, happy, peaceful life he deserved. His sacrifice was in vain- her life was already forfeit.
A strangled sound came out of her throat. Foolishly, she thought only of giving her own life to save his- of what remained of her days, and if she could give them all to save him. It was an impossible wish, one fervently hoped. He deserved it far, far more than she did.
Despair was approaching, unhindered and all-encompassing. It swept towards her quickly with a darkness that obscured all else.
She was truly despicable. How many lives would she ruin? What was her purpose, if not to burden those around her? To leave a trail of misery and despair in her wake? Why was-
"...Please, Rukia-sama!"
Rukia froze, staring forward with wide eyes.
Her Zanpakutou's desperate plea was unmistakable. It pierced the veil of darkness that came for her, clearer than anything she had seen or heard in years.
It was wrong. Yes, she knew that. All of it- as much as she could remember.
Ichigo lay before her, unmoving. But the grief did not come- it was an impossible sight before her. For him to be defeated… to fall? Somewhere above, the hollow roared an empty cry.
Doubt came for her, then, now tainted. Fear and sorrow marched on her soul with sweeping attacks, merciless. Her resolve threatened to shake with each blow. Her body jerked with another cough, a stab in her chest. She tumbled towards the ground.
Through the pain, she could see his face in her mind. Strong, resolute, unwavering- he moved ignorant of the evils of the world, unstoppable when following his heart. And what a strong heart it was.
She long feared that she would ruin him. Possible horrific outcomes haunted her during the nights. The nightmares about Kaien, about Ichigo, about the ones she cared for… But they were imagined fears, anxieties that lacked truth.
Her chest contracted painfully as she was racked with coughs again, harder. Blood splattered from her mouth and over her hand. She pulled her hand away- there was a cut on her thumb. It was familiar. She stared at it, focused. She remembered, from long ago-
Her chest felt as if it was stabbed, filling her with another wave of pain. She clenched her teeth. She would not scream.
Everything around her blurred, the colors swirling together. They faded and merged into greys and blue-black. The darkness was surrounding her, now, no longer clinging to shadows. It came from all sides and loomed with unrealized terrors. Horrific thoughts of pain inflicted on her loved ones, past and present, flashed before her- of grief and of death.
A single thought remained; one that was her own, not of the tendrils of fear that threatened.
There were few absolute truths in the world- but she knew, with all her heart, that Ichigo would not fail.
She rose to her feet; her limbs heavy, the movement difficult as if through water. But she continued. One foot, then the other, planted firmly on the ground. She stood upright. Her eyes closed against the onslaught of despair that raged against her, which threatened to seep into her very thoughts and soul.
...No...
The world around her was growing, consuming her. It devoured all sound. It roared in her ears. Her heart raced, loudly heard amongst it.
I am not destined for this.
Her heartbeat grew in volume, louder and louder and blaring, drowning out all thought.
This is not my future.
The roar was overwhelming, building, growing impossibly. The thump-thump of her heart continued. She couldn't breathe; her throat and body crushed by the weight. It sought to extinguish the meager flame within her, flickering in the gale, clinging to life-
This is my fear.
Rukia opened her eyes.
She gasped for air, staggering forward before she could regain her balance. She fell on her knees and hands against coarse pavement littered with frozen rubble. On her arms were the tekko of a Kuchiki and the cloak of the Royal Realm. She coughed, sending drops of blood falling; a metallic taste lingered in her mouth. There was sweat on her brow and a chill to the air, crisp and stark, vivid sensations seemingly not felt for years. Her hands trembled against the ground. Sode no Shirayuki was still clutched in her steady grip, brilliant and white.
The situation came to her, the old memory somehow faded through time, yet impossibly fresh. Confusion lingered; the result of years lived in an instant. It was all lie- a lie made potent by elements of truth.
Something arced towards her, quick and brutal. She rolled, the attack narrowing missing her in a cloud of dust and debris. The ground shook.
Her mind raced- struggling to reconcile years of memories with reality. She reached out to sense the reiatsu of anyone around her- it was hazy, obscured. Dimly, she could sense Ichigo's distant reiatsu- but it was there, nonetheless. As were her brother and Renji.
The dust swirled, her opponent silhouetted through it. He let out a monstrous scream.
Rukia jumped to her feet in an offensive stance, her sword held at the ready. Sode no Shirayuki hummed faintly with relief. She was panting, still. Her body ached.
The dust blew and dissipated, faintly felt against her face. The shadow parted to reveal her opponent - Äs Nödt.
Around them were the hundreds of eyes that hung in his cage, eyes which stared and tried to pierce into one's soul. She flash-stepped backward to place distance between her and the enemy.
"I will no longer fall for your lies," she said, her gaze piercing and cold. Calculating. His words were nothing. She was the lure. He was using her to trap her brother, as she remembered. There was no telling what would actually happen when he arrived- an outcome different from the false world of her fear.
"My lies?" he barked in wild disbelief. "They came from you! Your fears!"
His movements were careless, increasingly frantic. Off-guard.
Rukia's eyes narrowed, her determined gaze unrelenting. She regarded him a final time like one would look at an insect before it was crushed. "I am not afraid."
"Impossible," he said with a frantic shake of his head. He roared, hissed. "Fear is in everything. You can't run from it!"
She gauged where he stood, the distance he was away from her. She noted his stance against the ground.
The temperature in the air began to drop.
"It will chase you every waking moment, starting from birth!" He lashed forward in a flurry of attacks, poorly placed and easily dodged. She leapt away easily.
"It will follow you until death!" he shouted, his teeth snapping at air.
Further, further; the strange feeling of her body existing yet not alive, her body and sword grew colder still.
"The only escape…" he threw his head backward, the wicked grin widening- "Is to die!"
Her gaze did not waver. "Then I grant you a mercy... For you will no longer be afraid." She readied her sword.
"Bankai."
The world erupted in white reiatsu, cold and unrelenting.
"Hakka No Togame."
It took no more than a moment. The Quincy was entombed in ice, his final terrified scream captured within it. The world around them cracked and splintered, falling in big chunks of ice that broke against the ground. The ground shook- vivid, rumbling, as air rushed against her in her new garments of white.
Mist swirled and spread which cast a white haze. In the center were the remains of Äs Nödt. The Quincy splintered, shattering and crumbling into dust.
She began to thaw, slowly, delicately. Her hand threatened to crack- slower. Her zanpakuto urged caution, gently in the back of her mind. She breathed carefully and calmly.
Closing her eyes, she could sense Ichigo, faintly. Distant. But his reiatsu burned, still, as bright as ever. Her brother was close- he would be there soon. Safe, now, from fear.
It happened differently than the world of her fear. The war resulted in death and destruction still, similar in some ways. But the moment finally came when they stood side by side in the face of evil itself. Everyone they had known and the world itself was at stake; so many fates determined by the final battle. The prospect of failure loomed, still, over them.
But she knew better than to heed such things. There was a stillness then, a pervasive calm before the oncoming storm.
Rukia closed her eyes, sensing Ichigo's reiatsu beside her, brilliant and unwavering.
She savored the feeling.
"Rukia."
Opening her eyes, she turned to face him. He gazed at her, softly, a smile tinged with something she could not understand.
"If something happens-"
"Fool," she said sternly, gently. "Do not say such things. I won't listen."
He blinked, wincing as if in pain. "Rukia-"
Her hand rose to cup the side of his face. She gently tilted his face to look at her, her eyes bearing into his. "You will not fail. I have faith in that."
They stared at each other that way for several moments. It would not be long before the peace was shattered, the call to battle imminent, a shadow in the recesses of their minds. But still, the world fell away- and Rukia saw in his eyes something she'd never noticed before.
The echoes of her false life, of years of heartbreak and despair, whispered to her dimly. It sought to paralyze her. To doubt.
Instead, she moved her hand to gently grasp one of his, and placed his palm in the center of her chest. Her voice almost at a whisper. "That's who you are, in my heart."
His eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Neither of them breathed. She smiled softly, confidently.
The world came for them once again as comrades signaled Yhwach's approach.
No other words passed between them. They were not needed. She could see it in his eyes, as he could see it in hers. He smiled, tenderly, as the flare of determination could be seen in his gaze.
His hand lingered against hers before they turned, standing side by side to face what was to come.