A/N: Happy New Year! And happy one year anniversary to this fic (on 12/31). I have to say that my Bleach fics are the ones I've ever been quite constant to in terms of (attempting!) to actually deliver chapter by chapter on a (hehe) regular basis, albeit delayed by months or so, and that's all thanks to all the lovely and wonderful readers who have been extremely supportive, so a thousand thank-you's to all of you for being awesome. And let's hope I'll actually see this through to the end as with Bitter Chocolate (which happened to be the first ever multi-chaptered fic I've actually finished *lol*). This story had certainly grown beyond where I'd been expecting it to as originally I thought it would only go up to seven chapters, and now it's at its twentieth and there's still more to write about. Knowing that you're all there looking forward to this really gets me going, and I'm really grateful for all the encouragement you've given.

Flashback order: 14, 2, 9, 13, 17, 3, 15, 11, 8, 7, 6, 5, 12, 4, 10, 16.

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

Chapter 20: Gain

In the morning, the city of Inuzuri bustled as though it had never slept. The Death God stalked the streets of the south end, the area's unlit lanterns lining the cobblestones in between rows and rows of the upscale buildings of the red-light district. This early in the day, only clean-up crews abounded, sweeping dust from the ground, washing doors and windows, straightening the banners and signs of their work places and setting them up for another night's run.

He followed his instinct. Unseen and undetected, he passed through people and walls alike as though merely a part of the very air, up the wooden stairs that did not creak under his weight, and walked through a door that did not open at his touch. Inside the room, only shadowed sunlight pervaded through the thin drawn curtains over the window. On a bed set against the wall was a still form, unmoving under the covers, head smothered beneath a pillow.

The black sword materialized in his hand, and he raised it, ready to perform konso upon the soul of the recently deceased.

There was a sob, a clinking of chains over a heart as the soul suddenly sat up. He couldn't help but gasp upon seeing its face; the expression it wore mirrored his under the mask.

"Orihime...?" he breathed.

At the sound of his voice, the ghostly figure turned its head with its all too familiar face to him. His grip on the sword loosened.

Looking closely through the dim light of the room, the auburn shade of her hair was dull, and it fell over her naked form in ratty waves; her eyes were tired and wearied; her cheeks gaunt; and an expression he couldn't name crinkled the crow's feet at the corner of her eyes.

"That name," she whispered, "I had a daughter once. And a son. And they both disappeared one night."

The heart that had risen to his throat descended again to its place in his chest. Out of relief, a small laugh broke from him. Of course, she wouldn't be here; his longing was so strong it made him see what he wanted.

"Her name was Orihime and his was Sora," continued she as her eyes roved over his form.

He nodded slightly. "I thought so."

"You know them?" She moved, knelt close to the edge of the bed, and hope shone in her eyes that immediately turned to sadness. She looked back to the body she'd left behind, and back at him, deflating onto her haunches at the sight of his sword in hand. "Y-you're here. You. God of Death. If you knew them, then like me, they're dead." The last word was said in a whisper so soft as she began to weep. "I've always wondered what had happened to them after they disappeared, and I've always thought they've made it out of this city alive. That they managed to live somewhere out there, had a happy life away from this place, away from us, away from their father who sold me to this brothel to pay off his debts. It was a dream that kept me going all these years in this place, a hope that they had a life that I couldn't give them. But it is just that: a dream."

For once, in the middle of his mission, he found himself uncomfortable, and couldn't help shuffling his clawed feet upon the floor. Before him was—dead and most of all, naked—the person that turned out to be his mother-in-law. Under normal circumstances this was a sight that he was used to, and therefore unfazed by. It was not in him to bring comfort to the recently deceased because to him they were part of his duty, his job, merely an ordinary part of the scenery. He seldom looked closely at the race he ushered to their rest, and the one time he did—

But as his relationship with his wife now stood... Ichigo was certain, though, that if he were to act on sympathy at this moment, it would be something Orihime would appreciate.

And so he spoke, partaking in a heretofore new experience of conversing with someone whose soul he was supposed to send off. "Your daughter, Orihime, is alive."

Her eyes, familiar and yet different, rose to his. The hopelessness gradually began to fade.

He hesitated, feeling rather awkward, but was somehow urged to continue. "I have taken her as my bride."

In those eyes, he read the thoughts that churned through her ghostly mind. It must be the truth. It must be. It is the god's word, and we trust our lives in the hands of gods. It is a truth I have no choice but to accept for he has no cause to lie to me.

"Your son, however..."

She nodded, and grateful tears instead of those of sorrow flowed down her cheeks. "Thank you. Thank you. You've given me much comfort in my hour of death, and I commend my soul into your grace, O God of Death, as my Sora had with his."

Enlivened by her words of prayer, he gently tapped her forehead with the hilt of his sword, and closed his eyes as her soul dispersed.

She watched her feet on the ground. Gone were their usual trudging sounds upon the cobblestones, and the ringing silence issued no comfort to her sense of loss. Orihime gripped her elbows and steadily she made her way up the hill to the now enlarged cemetery. Pausing by the open gate, she bit her lip as she eyed the flowers that grew on the wayside, already knowing how futile it would be to attempt to reach for them. With a sigh, she proceeded on.

Rows and rows of gravestones lined on either side of her—monuments to the lives that had been sacrificed to the game of gods. Strangely, a kind of peace settled over her heart. Was it because it was a place of death that made it seem as though she was close to the Death God? She took in the scent of grass and flowers and rocks, and in her mind sprung the image of the house of the God of Death with its white stone columns embraced by its colourful flora. Was this place of rest modeled after that?

A shattering sound pierced the silence. Alarmed, she ran, following an agonized yell and what sounded like a stone breaking. Over the hill where newer graves were laid was a young man with short-cropped black hair, wielding a large hammer over his head and bringing it down upon the gravestones within his vicinity. Orihime could only watch, aghast with her hands over her mouth, at the desecration he was performing.

"Stop it," she whispered, repeating herself until her voice grew into a scream. "Stop it, please. S-Shishigawara, right? You were at the square earlier. You passed through me. Why are you doing this? Please stop."

But all to no avail. Her voice was merely the wind, the breeze shifting along the grass, the dust motes that fell upon the air. All she could do was watch helplessly as he destroyed the places of rest for the departed.

With a final scream, he fell to his knees, hammering the weapon down upon the jagged pieces of stone on the ground.

"Why?" She cried, her breath hitching inside her chest as she perused what he had done.

He sat back on his feet and stared at the sky. His eyes were empty, and his voice broke as he spoke, "Bring her back, you useless gods! Why did you take her from me? Why did you take her? My Orihime..."

"Eh?" Her breath caught in her throat. Her name? What could he have meant?

She only remembered him vaguely. He was the kind of boy who was always outside looking in. Where ever she had gone with her friends when they were alive, he seemed to always have been standing at the edge of her periphery. He'd seemed harmless and she'd thought nothing of it. He never approached for she had always been with somebody—her brother, Tatsuki, the baker—and she had been wrapped up in what the fortune teller had told her to truly pay him any attention enough to come to any realization about him.

Orihime closed her eyes and bowed her head. For all the good it did, she addressed him. "Your name is Moe... Moe Shishigawara, right? I'm sorry. For a lot of things. For never really thinking about you. For never acknowledging you. And for you to have done this here... If I knew how to fix things, to make things right, to undo what had been done, I would. You don't know how much I wish I could."

In her mind, she remembered the feeling of the golden glow in the library, of the triangular shield that made her feel protected. But what good would a shield do here? But she could feel it again, the warmth spreading from her, this time seeming to take the shape of a dome expanding upon the area of the scattered stones. Opening her eyes, she gasped, and shook her head at the sight in disbelief.

The once broken grave-markers began to conglomerate, forming back into their respective shapes upon their respective places.

Eyes wide, the young man, who'd only moments before wrought their destruction, stared as the stones were restored, surprise and fright warring for dominance within him. Chest heaving and mouth trembling, he slowly crawled over to the nearest headstone and touched it, his finger tracing a crack on its surface as it smoothened, leaving no evidence whatsoever that it had ever been broken. Fear won, and he screamed as he hurriedly rose to his feet, running and tripping down over the graves in his haste to escape.

The glow disappeared as the last of the stones was mended, leaving Orihime incredulous as she turned around to inspect what had transpired.

"Curiouser and curiouser," came the voice of the God of Knowledge and Invention behind her.

She turned to face him. "D-d-did you s-see it? W-what happened?"

"Yes. You did it again."

"I-I-I don't—it's n-not—" Her voice failed her, and she could only open and close her mouth, unable to find any words to utter.

"But it is." He walked past her and sat upon a gravestone, an ankle resting on a knee as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "An interesting manifestation of power. The power to shield and the power to restore, or maybe reverse, or perhaps reject...hmm..." His grey eyes perused her pointedly. "And I wonder if there's still more you've yet to show."

She felt her hackles rise at this. How could he gaze upon her in such a way, as though she was a specimen to an experiment he was conducting?

"Even Renji never displayed this kind of power," he continued. "But mind you, I never really was interested in what he could show."

"But this couldn't be me. I couldn't have done this."

Kisuke tilted his head to the side. "Why not?"

She sputtered. "B-because."

He raised an eyebrow. "'Because' what?"

She fluttered her hands helplessly at him.

He shifted in his seat. "If I may, Orihime, you have to face the fact that you now have powers, that you're now one of us. You have to accept all these changes, and learn how to use and control them."

She turned her back to him and flopped down on the ground with her hands over her ears, and couldn't help feeling childish over her own behaviour. She acknowledged the wisdom of his words; she recognized how beneficial it would be for her to simply do as he said, and yet still—

Behind her, he sighed as he stood, walking over to where she crouched and offering a hand. "Shall we head back? I'm sure there's much for you to ponder on. If you'd like, I can ask the Goddess of Snow or perhaps her husband to assist you in coming to terms with your godhood?"

Orihime took his proffered hand, and Kisuke pulled her up with a smile. She couldn't help giving him a rather sheepish answering smile in return. He had been of much help to her in this journey, and she felt as though she had been unappreciative of it.

"Thank you," said she, but he only shook his head in response. "No, really. Thank you. I am grateful for your company today."

He cleared his throat. "So, have you finished what you came here to do?" he said by way of changing the conversation.

She looked around, turning as her eyes roamed the graveyard. Although the place was brimming with its monuments, it felt so empty. Her brother, Tatsuki, Keigo, and all the others...she couldn't feel their presence here, and those in the village continued on without them, without her.

This is my final goodbye. Farewell, everyone.

Orihime turned back to face the God of Knowledge and Invention, and nodded. "I'm ready."

Ready to go home.

She scried through her crystal mirror, a fingertip tracing the edges of its autumn leaf border. Her orange eyes beheld the image that her own traitorous heart still yearned for: the splendour of the God of Death, out in the human world fulfilling the function he was born to do. Her hands shook as thorns squeezed her heart anew. Senna never expected to have her feelings for him develop the way they did; she never expected to have fallen for him in their brief time together.

All she'd wanted was to play the game. Before, she hadn't paid much attention to the human world. Along with the other gods of the seasons, she performed her duty as the Autumn Goddess, coming together in their monthly meetings to work out schedules for the weather, who ought to control clouds and precipitation on certain days, when would it be time for the flowers to flourish or the leaves to fall. With obligations such as these, who could ever have time to watch the foolishness of humanity?

But then, one night, unsummoned, her mirror showed her something. The lowly lives she had paid no mind to dared to speak of her, and compared her to another of their brethren. A stinging sensation pierced her pride as a god. This is what it must feel like, she'd thought. This is why the others play the game. Because of them, these creatures who should know better, who should know their betters. The spark of anger was unbearable, and she knew it couldn't be quenched by anything less than their destruction. Death. Death unto you all.

She closed her eyes to stopper her tears, flopping her mirror face-down on her lap. Why hadn't her mirror showed her how badly it could turn for her? Why hadn't her mirror showed her how hurt she could feel? For all the good it did to let her see what the future had in store, why hadn't it showed her a way to prevent her from feeling the way she felt now, for being in the position she currently found herself in?

She was disheartened to find that even her mirror was limited in what it could show her.

Inhaling deeply, she brought her mirror back up and said, "Show me the girl. The one who's the cause of all this."

The silvery surface rippled, and Senna frowned as the image blacked out. "Where is she? Why won't you show me?" Sighing in frustration, she hugged the mirror to herself. What could it mean? she wondered. Why hadn't her mirror been able to find the bane of her existence? That human girl that her former lover took as wife...how would the Goddess of Autumn be able to exact her vengeance when that girl could not be found? Under what kind of protection did the Death God place her in?

She started. The grand hallway of the white stone palace echoed with oncoming footsteps, and she composed herself, smoothing out her gown and wiping at her eyes. The God of Destruction came into view with a Butterfly Man in tow, the one who presumed to give himself the title of the other God of Knowledge.

The Butterfly Men were another race of immortal beings who were born in the service of gods. They sprang from the black butterflies that acted as messengers, having evolved into a form with a higher consciousness and exhibited ambitions to become as the gods they served. One such had been called Aizen, who had trespassed so greatly as to kill the God of Foxes and Snakes, and by decree of the Spirit King through his own messenger, the God of Death had been sent to dispatch him.

Since that incident, if another Butterfly Man should spring forth from the black butterflies, he was immediately sentenced to death. However, this one, who was called Szayel, was allowed the chance to live by the actual God of Knowledge and Invention himself, simply out of curiosity.

With a smile, Szayel folded his wings into himself and bowed before Senna.

"How kind of you to visit such a humble one as me, O Goddess," he greeted.

"Spare us the niceties, Szayel," responded the Goddess of Autumn.

"As you wish," he said with a tilt of his head.

"The Lord God of Destruction spoke to you of what we came here for, did he not?"

"But of course."

"And have you the item?"

"But of course." With a languid wave of his hand, one of the buds hanging from his wing excreted onto his palm the device she asked for. "The cage, milady."

She began to reach for it, but he folded his fingers over the item and brought it up to his lips.

"Surely you don't think I would hand over something like this so easily, O Goddess?"

Her spine straightened as she stared at him haughtily. "You dare to bargain?"

"Such is the way of gods."

Grimmjow snorted, for once making his presence known. Sharp claws extended from his fingers and he blew on them, staring pointedly at the charlatan who dared to think he was one of them.

Szayel merely smiled at the obvious threat posed by the panther-god as he played sleight-of-hand with the object in his palm. "For a small fee, it is yours."

Huffing, Senna folded her arms. "What's your price?"

"The aftermath of its use." At her sudden guarded look, he laughed. "No need to fret. I do not seek to possess what you will be using this for, only to observe and learn. I seek only knowledge, and your use of this, I can already see, will be interesting indeed."

"And that's all you want?"

He genuflected with his head lowered, and replied, "I do not want to infringe upon the grace of gods, unlike my former kin. I have seen the power displayed by the gods against such a trespass, a trespass that even the Spirit King would involve himself in, and I have learned from it. I live only to appease my curiosity, and I am thankful to the God of Knowledge and Invention for granting me the right to live in such a way." Offering his hands out, he continued, "If my answer pleases you, and my request for this exchange is suitable, have we an accord, O Goddess?"

She could only give a begrudging nod in acceptance.

Grimmjow plucked the item from Szayel's palm.

"We take our leave now. You've been of great assistance, Szayel. I will send a message detailing the appointed day that we will be using this item."

"I am grateful, milady."

Turning, the Goddess of Autumn walked out of the pillared stone hall that was home to the Butterfly Man. Despite the power of the gods, however much he displayed his fear and awe to them, he still posed a great danger for having created the item that they now had in their grasp.

By her side, the God of Destruction walked. Held between his forefinger and thumb was a small box. Grimmjow stuck his tongue out as he perused the object. "You know, we should've gotten two of these. There are two of them, after all."

Senna grabbed it from his hold and began throwing it up in the air and catching it. "One is sufficient. It is simply for the one." Upon catching it once more, she asked, "You remember the plan, right?"

He rolled his eyes at her as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, yeah."

"Everything depends on you."

"I know, I know," he replied flippantly.

She stepped in front of him and ran the item down his exposed abdomen. "You will have your revenge."

He took hold of her hand and pried the device from her fingers, giving her a large, feral grin, sunlight glinting on his canines. "Yes, and so will you," he said, and captured her lips in a bruising kiss.

APPENDIX

Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon
Orihime - formerly a human, now a goddess by association for marrying a god
Urahara - God of Knowledge and Invention
Moe Shishigawara - character from Bleach's Welcome to Our Xcution arc that took place after the 17-month time skip
Senna - Goddess of Autumn (filler character from Bleach: Memories of Nobody movie)
Grimmjow - God of Destruction
Szayel - a Butterfly Man (evolved form of the black butterflies that gods use to send messages to each other); calls himself the other God of Knowledge with permission from Urahara, the actual God of Knowledge
Aizen - a Butterfly Man who slew Gin, the God of Foxes and Snakes; executed by the Death God by order of the Spirit King
Spirit King - God of the Sun, Ruler of All Gods and the Natural Order of the World

Thanks for reading :)
Dec/2011