The next morning, Tsukiko awoke in the barracks with a start, entangled tightly in her blanket. Her heart was racing, and she was breathing rapidly. Just a second earlier she'd been running through a forest lit by a twilight moon she couldn't see, intense rustling all around her. Whatever was causing the rustling was not pursuing her, she knew that much, but there was a deep-rooted, pressing need to move forward, as if nothing had ever been more important. She'd allowed herself the quickest glance around her: completely surrounding her were walls of glowing leaves, all in varying shades of metallic bronze and copper. She turned forward again, only to skid to a halt as the path was blocked by more leaves. She reached out to bat the leaves away, her heart pumping in her chest as if it alone could draw her forward, but the second she touched the leaves, the air filled with the scent of blood—a lot of it. Pausing but briefly, she pushed harder through the leaves, which began to swirl around in dizzying spirals, spinning faster and faster. The smell of blood grew cloying to the point she didn't know how she wasn't swimming in the stuff. Faster the leaves blurred, greater the scent of blood, and all the while the near-obsessive need to go on, to move forward, until…she woke up.

Tsukiko sighed deeply and closed her eyes again, willing her heart not to beat out of her chest. None of it made sense, but the way the forest stuck with her it had clearly committed itself to memory. Because her waking life wasn't enough of a headache.

As much as the dream held her attention, its power over her still abated when she reached to take Ki from her nightstand after dressing. He was dead quiet, offering not even a strand of emotion for her to read. She didn't know if this was a good thing or not. More importantly, there was no telling what a conversation with him might yield. Especially not now.

Her stomach churned mightily.

Tsukiko clenched her jaw and tied Ki to her side.

Drills were nothing out of the ordinary, including the maneuvering of her eyes away from the two authority figures she still served under. She faltered only slightly during Zanjutsu sparring, but the exercise ended before she'd developed too many welts. Still, she minded the bruises now littering her arms and sides as the squad at last broke away to attend to the tasks and responsibilities allotted them. In her case, it was yet another patrol shift, though at least this one would be shorter than yesterday's.

Carrying on to North Rukongai District Seven, the world around her passed in a blur, bringing her right back to her dream. The leaves had been overwhelming, just like the Seireitei was now, but as much as she had fought against them, as much as the air reeked of blood, they were a distraction, not a threat. With all her focus, she tried to remember if she'd seen a break in them as she parted them, only to arrive at the conclusion that if there was one, it simply revealed yet more leaves.

That still left the coppery tang in the air. There was no mistaking that it was blood, like she'd stepped onto a fresh battlefield, but she couldn't remember seeing a body—or bodies, more like—that would make the blood so intense. Of course, the converging leaves blinded her to anything else, so it was entirely likely that she'd overlooked one. She didn't think she'd been bleeding either, though there was no doubt her pounding heart made her all the more aware of her blood upon awakening.

At last Tsukiko made it to District Seven. Her heart was beating for a very different reason now, what with the speed of her Shunpo, but it didn't stop the frigid air from biting uncomfortably at her bare hands. She thought longingly of the gloves still in her footlocker at the barracks—only to grimace when she remembered they were sitting on top of the unsent transfer request form.

A group of children ran into the street then, unbothered by the cold under their layers of clothing. Tsukiko huffed steaming breath into her hands as the children chased each other around, involved in a variant of tag where seemingly everyone was both "it" and eligible to become "it." They drew nearer and smiled at her respectfully before zooming past—that is, until a small girl stepped on her loose scarf, causing her to careen forward into Tsukiko's legs.

"Ooh, careful!" Tsukiko cried out as she caught the girl, who in an effort to right herself had reached out for anything stable, which happened to be Ki's hilt.

"I-I'm sorry, Shinigami-san!" the girl stammered as Tsukiko eased her upright. Large tears were already forming in her wide eyes and coming down her rosy cheeks. "Please don't be mad!"

"I'm not mad, but please let go of my sword," Tsukiko said. She gently uncurled the girl's fingers from Ki's hilt. "This is no cause for a duel."

With the whimpering girl now on her own two feet, Tsukiko reached down for the scarf, which had landed in a snowdrift. Other than a muddy footprint on one end and minute clumps of snow that stuck to it like burrs, the scarf was no worse for wear, and Tsukiko gave it a shake to loosen some of the snow before wrapping it back around the girl's neck.

"Be sure to mind your scarf from now on, okay?" She glanced at the girl's friends, who were staring at her in awe, and back to the girl. She forced a smile as she finished with the scarf. "You don't want to trip in the middle of the road next."

The girl wiped her eyes with the back of her mittened hand before offering Tsukiko a tentative smile. "T-thank you, Shinigami-san!" she said. She moved past Tsukiko and hurried away with her friends, who traded their game of tag for what looked like a very involved review of what had just happened with the Shinigami patrol.

Tsukiko instantly dropped her smile and looked down at Ki: the sword had been loosened from her obi after the girl had grabbed it. Her hands worked slowly to untie the loose knot the rest of the way when a thought arose. Ki. Meaning tree….

Tsukiko closed her eyes, putting herself back on the forest path. She felt herself running along the path, heard the rustling all around her. She looked to her right and saw the swirling mass of unnatural bronze, but to see just one, visualize its form…that's all she needed, just one leaf and its shape…not round, not wide, but…yes…elongated, and—yes, they were all rhombic, like curved diamonds or kites…what shape did the leaves of the rotting black birch have….

Something quiet, so very quiet, stirred in the back of her mind, like a delicate push or a small tap on her shoulder.

Tsukiko opened her eyes, but took her time finishing the knot. Even after Ki was securely tied at her waist again, she fussed over the knot, running her fingers along the string. They couldn't avoid each other forever, not so long as she was a Shinigami and he her Zanpaku-to. But that didn't cancel out how he'd snarled at her the night before, only for his fury to extend well past his words.

On the other hand, some risks were worth taking….

Across the street, the children laughed, and Tsukiko found the small girl in the middle of them, her scarf dangling innocently from her neck. It was not the pale blue-green of another scarf she'd seen once before, but its very presence brought more than a little familiarity, and with it the resurging knowledge of another in her bloodline whose power took the form of perhaps not a real tree or its leaves, but its blossoms….

Ki, Tsukiko said, channeling whatever authority she could find within the waves of apprehension inside her, tell me what those leaves and the blood meant.

A peculiar sensation, a mix of zeal and reluctance, overcame her. You already know, Ki said.

She played dumb. I need more than that.

Ki paused. What you need is to put in the hard work. I can only do so much for you.

Tsukiko cursed under her breath and looked around the street. The most dangerous things she could see were an axe leaning against a house and a pair of older women haggling over an earthenware bowl.

You wouldn't, Ki said.

Tsukiko ignored him as a fast Shunpo brought her from the street to the roof of a house. Her eyes scanned the surrounding area, though this time not for possible danger; it was unnecessary in such a high district. In the southwest, she spotted just what she needed, and with another Shunpo, she left her post.

Tsukiko, if your captain finds out… Ki said, though his tone didn't especially hold dismay.

I don't care what he thinks, she said finitely, dodging through the streets of the district. Besides, this was your idea.

Moments later she reappeared beside a small rice paddy, abandoned for the winter. Behind it was what her rooftop view had told her was the start of a forest unbroken by village or temple for just enough distance that solitude was near guaranteed. A single Shunpo brought her into the forest proper, and she continued at a fast walk until she found just what she was looking for: a shaggy black birch, except the leaves were black and shriveled in the season. Tsukiko cursed. Bracing herself, she kneeled on the cold earth and began digging through the patches of snow and frozen soil at the tree's base. There was no guarantee she'd find leaves preserved by winter's frost, but she had to try.

And sure enough, after several minutes of peeling back layers of decaying foliage and clenching her hands against the freezing air and snow, she held aloft a yellowed, half-rotted rhombic leaf. Tsukiko held it up to a shriveled leaf still clinging to one of the birch's lower branches, which she carefully unraveled from itself. She squinted, comparing the leaves, but it was no use: the black leaf was too far gone to tell what its original shape had been.

Ki cleared his throat. Your dedication is admirable, he offered.

Rolling her eyes, Tsukiko sat crossed-legged on the ground. All that work for nothing.

Nothing, you say?

Except it wasn't Ki who had spoken. It was her voice, because she had already bothered to come out here in the first place, and like hell she was going to walk away without even a hint of an answer.

Shivering, Tsukiko rapidly unsheathed Ki, set him and the yellow leaf across her crossed legs, and closed her eyes.

I am within the birch leaves, where I will find you, she repeated to herself as the one thought to guide her meditation. I am within the birch leaves—

I'm already here, Tsukiko, Ki said, and she jumped at his voice.

That was fast.

You and I want the same thing, he said simply. He took an audible breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet. Look ahead. What you seek is right there before you.

Taking her own deep breath, Tsukiko gazed forward with her mind's eye. There was nothing but blackness, but she thought again of the bronze leaves. The way they whirled around, how they turned with the uttermost ease. How they followed her, surrounded her, caressed her.

Slowly, a bright, bronze-tinged glow came into view ahead of her. She reached for it, and she began to move forward.

Who is your family? Ki demanded, his voice full of pressing might.

Tsukiko stopped. The glowing remained stationary. I…can't answer that right now, she said.

How much forgiveness is left in your heart after Renji?

She almost snorted. That's irrelevant—

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to wear kenseikan?

Ki, stop,Tsukiko said, annoyed. None of these questions matter—hey, wait!

As soon as she'd spoken, the glowing began to fade, threatening to fill her vision with black again. However, it stopped once she said "wait," and Ki's impatience hit her; she tried not to brace herself against it.

I repeat, who is your family? Ki questioned.

But…this was a ridiculous. What did her family have to do with her in this moment?

Alright. What is one good thing you can say about Kuchiki Byakuya and what he's done for you?

Nothing, Tsukiko fired back, but she winced when the glowing faded even more.

You need him. He is a step on a bridge to a world you crave.

I don't crave anything he can give me.

The glowing faded to a pinprick in the distance.

Ki, please!

Answer me. Have you forgotten about your mother?

Ki—

There's more to you than just noble blood.

Ki's voice sped up, and out came question after question. Some were incomprehensible, some repeated, and others were impossible to answer. And the entire time, the bronze light was fading out, falling away from her….

Steeling herself, Tsukiko held onto one of the first questions Ki had asked. There is plenty of forgiveness inside of me, she said, and his questions immediately ceased. You know this. I'm not heartless.

The second the last word left her, a wave of exhaustion hit her, as if she'd just let go of a massive weight she didn't even know she'd been carrying.

The light paused in its dimming…

Tsukiko held her breath.

…and began to grow again.

Ki resumed his questioning. What is one good thing you can say about Kuchiki Byakuya and what he's done for you? What do you want to know of your mother? What can you learn from your aunt?

So many questions, none easy to answer, but she had to pick one if she wanted to find the leaves. My family, she said, and once more the bombardment ceased. My family, she repeated, is…I don't know. Baa-san is dead, but she will always be family. Emi, too, even if she's just a pain in my ass. And…. She steeled herself again. Whether I like it or not, I have a blood family as well. I might want otherwise, but I can't change my very body.

Tsukiko gasped as both another wave of fatigue hit her, and the glowing drew much closer. It was too bright to see into it, but there were things moving within the light, racing around in it. She thought she knew what they were, but she didn't dare voice her assumption.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to wear kenseikan?

No, Tsukiko said quickly, only for the glowing to rapidly fade. She grimaced, even though the dimming light confirmed that the flying things were indeed the leaves of a black birch. No, wait—it never properly crossed my mind. And now with all that's happened, it just seems ridiculous to even think about it.

Are you at least curious what you would look like?

Tsukiko paused, not for lack of an answer, but embarrassment. …Yes, she said at last.

More weight fell from her shoulders, and the bronze light returned to full illumination, though it was no longer so overwhelming. The bright light offered a clear view of the swirling leaves as they chased each other. But from further within the light appeared a dark, fuzzy figure. It steadily drew closer, and Tsukiko squinted into the bronze glow. She inhaled sharply when she realized the figure was a silhouette, the fuzziness showing itself to be long hair and longer sleeves flying around the figure's body.

"Do you hear me, Tsukiko?" Ki said as he came ever closer. His backlit form prevented her from seeing his face or the details of his clothing, but there was no mistaking his voice.

"Yes," she said.

"Do you know who you are?" he asked.

"I think so…."

"Tell me your name."

The smell of blood had suddenly returned, and she hesitated. "I…."

"Tell me yours, and I will tell you mine."

"I…I'm…."

"Speak, Tsukiko. Let me in."

"M-my…name…." Her hands clenched her knees.

"Say it, Tsukiko."

At the end of the day, there was only one person she could be. And there was nothing, absolutely nothing, wrong with claiming the only identity she would ever have. "My name is—"

"Shinigami-san, your sword!"

Tsukiko opened her eyes in District Seven, her hand reaching automatically for Ki's hilt. However, the only potential threat she could find were the children, who were all staring at her apprehensively from behind the black birch. Something began to build inside her chest as she eyes their nervous faces, their twitching little hands, made all the more powerful because Ki was feeling it too: rage.

Tsukiko forced the feeling down, and her shield rose to smooth her face into polite apathy. "You…interrupted?" she said, her jaw tight.

The children looked at each other, realizing their error. They began to jostle each other, and within seconds, the small girl, her scarf still wrapped securely around her neck, was shoved forward.

Tsukiko raised an eyebrow.

The girl swallowed. "W-we followed you here, Shinigami-san," she said, the reluctant spokesperson. "You were very fast, but…. W-we watched you w-with your Zanpaku-to, a-and it…." She glanced warily at Ki. "It started to g-glow…."

Tsukiko slowly looked down at her lap. Ki looked much the same; not one detail was out of place, and nothing from the tip of the blade to the end of the hilt betrayed that the sword had been glowing.

"S-Shinigami-san?"

Tsukiko looked back at the children, who were shaking. "Yes?"

The small girl gulped. "W-we're sorry."

Tsukiko returned her gaze to Ki. "It's fine," she said. "Just…go."

The children hardly needed a reminder.

Tsukiko closed her eyes. Without her audience, the mental exhaustion brought on by Ki's questions returned, washing over any anger. She rested her hands on either side of her, ignoring the bite of snow. Even if they didn't get where they wanted, where they nearly were, they had certainly made progress. She'd made progress.

Thank you, Ki, Tsukiko said after a moment. She sheathed the blade with a snap. You were right. About everything.

He sighed, his frustration subdued. I am glad that you found something from this.

I found more than just something, she said, standing up; the yellow birch leaf twirled back to the ground from her lap. She tied Ki to her side again, but paused after she'd done so. Her stomach was still, and while a pang of emotion hit her when she actively thought of her father, it did not dominate her.

Yeah, definitely more than just something, she said, fading out of the forest. I'm sending the transfer request in.

As soon as her shift was over, Tsukiko raced back to headquarters and straight into the barracks. She popped open her footlocker and pulled out the transfer request form. Triumph as well as lingering cold shook her hands as she held it, though it wavered in the face of defeat when she reread the reason her father had given for her transfer: Inability to receive or offer anything of value.

She clenched the form in her hands. To him, maybe. Slamming the footlocker closed, Tsukiko slapped the paper on top of it and dug through her pocket for a pen, which she used to fill out the paper as swiftly as accuracy would allow. It was so easy; why did she hesitate to do even this before? With each character she wrote, her conviction to leave became all the more apparent, and by the time she'd scrawled her signature at the bottom of the form, she'd never been so sure of something in her life. With the freedom this one piece of paper afforded her, she'd finally be able to create a life for herself, not live one pre-determined for her.

Once the paper was complete, Tsukiko left the barracks.

I haven't forgotten last night, she said to Ki, but thank you again for getting me to this point.

She felt his solemn appreciation. This is just the beginning, Tsukiko.

Hopefully we won't face anymore interruptions after this.

He scoffed, though it bore more amusement than annoyance.

Tsukiko moved on toward the offices, yet she found herself slowing; if with each word she'd written it had been bolstered, with each step she now took, her courage faded. Indeed, by the time she was turning down the last hallway, she was hardly walking so much as crawling. She had to submit the form directly to her father, but that still meant interacting with him.

This will be the last time, Ki reassured her. You know he can't disappoint you any more than he already has.

Ki didn't know that. She didn't know that. But the form had to go.

At long last, she came before the door to the captain's office. I can do this? she asked.

Ki's reassurance flowed into her. You don't need from him anything you can't find yourself.

Arming herself with Ki's words, Tsukiko knocked on the door.

…To no answer.

Tsukiko frowned, waited a few seconds, and knocked once more. Again, no answer, and she scoffed. I'm just destined to be disappointed today, aren't I?

Dependable as ever, that Kuchiki Byakuya….

She smirked despite herself, and more than a little relief filled her chest. Even if she only had to build herself up again later, there was no denying the respite.

Just as Tsukiko turned back down the hall, the door to Renji's office opened. The man himself stepped out, holding a keyring and some papers. His long braid swung down his back, and as he lifted the keyring to find the right key, his sleeve pulled back, revealing just some of the jagged tattoos that crisscrossed his body.

As he turned to lock his office, his jasper eyes at last found her.

Tsukiko swallowed as images and sensations of the last time their eyes had met came to mind, and with full concentration, she looked away, her face suddenly hot.

Renji exhaled slowly. "You, uh, need something?" he asked.

"I was looking for the captain, but he's out," Tsukiko said, pointing directionlessly toward her father's office.

Renji nodded once. "He's at the manor the rest of the day. Can I…help instead?"

She reached into her shihakusho, trying and failing to ignore Renji stiffening as she briefly exposed part of her chest, and took out the transfer request form. She unfolded it and held it out for him to read.

Renji looked it over, and his eyes widened in some realization. "Oh," he said quietly.

Tsukiko narrowed her eyes. "'Oh' what?"

"Um…nothing."

She brought up her shield, channeling every ounce of Kuchiki in her.

Renji looked at her nervously before sighing. "Hell, you're good at that." He went fully sober. "Captain Kuchiki…is holding me responsible for sending your transfer request out."

Tsukiko felt her face go smooth at this news, banishing her reaction from view. "Is that so."

Renji nodded despondently.

She stared at the tattoos on his neck, unsure what to say. Unsure why she needed to remember how she'd traced those very tattoos with first her fingers and later her tongue—

"You can, uh, give me the form," Renji said, and she whipped back to the present.

"Right," Tsukiko said. She held out the paper.

He took it and looked it over again, a frown growing on his lips. He added it to the top of the small stack in his other hand before saying, "I'm not surprised about this, but I admit it's rough seeing you going."

Tsukiko opened her mouth to reply, but no words came. What could she say? What was appropriate to say? Definitely not that she was somehow sad, that she was still fine with the distance between them, that she actually hated it, that there was something in her chest tell her to do…something. She didn't know what, but it felt like if she didn't move or do something now, she might explode.

She dared look into his eyes. This would be a test then. Control was the aim, Ki had said? Then she'd prove to herself that there was nothing she was leaving behind in Squad Six. She was entirely free.

She was falling into Renji's arms as Ki shoved her forward.

The papers fell from Renji's hand as he caught her, stepping back to keep his balance. "Shit, Tsukiko, that Zanpaku-to of yours still pulling that crap?"

With wide eyes, she looked down at the blade at her side, but she heard no aggression, felt no fury.

Tsukiko looked back up at Renji, who was staring at her with mild concern. "H-he likes to express his opinions," she said, straightening but keeping her hands firmly on Renji's arms, which she tried not to notice were around her waist.

"He?"

Tsukiko sighed. "Yeah. I don't know his full name yet or anything, but I can hear him."

"That's great." Renji raised his eyebrows. "That's really, really good…." His arms tightened and then loosened around her.

The something in her chest purred, breaking whatever hold Ki's shove still had on her. She made herself stare at Renji's chest, into the black of his shihakusho, but the blank image only brought her back to the fact that they were in each other's arms and it was simply too much and not enough.

Tsukiko released her grip from Renji's arms and stepped back from him. "I have training," she lied.

Renji went stiff and pulled his arms firmly to his sides. "Right you are," he said formally. "I'll…take care of your transfer request form. Hokutan."

"Sir," she said. Without looking at him again, she moved back down the hall, trying not to kick the papers she didn't trust herself to help pick up.

The two pushes are unrelated, Ki said quietly as she turned out of Renji's sight. I swear to you. Last night I got carried away, and just now—

I don't want to hear it, Ki, she said. I just want the possession or whatever it is to stop.

Ki did not answer right away, but when he did, she did not anticipate his straightforward, even tone.

That is impossible, he said.

A/N: It's been a good writing/brainstorming week. |)