A/N: -you get the picture.


Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix

(My heart opens itself to your voice)


(But I Assure You) My Debts Are Real


From the moment she woke up, in her heart she knew something was different about today. When violet orbs met the light of day and her head turned, breathe coming out in a shiver to the cool morning air and sun making the large doors to her room glow, Rukia Kuchiki knew something was different in a gravity shifting way.

Because there was a shadow on the other side of her door. Because it was tall and imposing in a way only one man knew how to do.

Sitting up, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and looked up to see Setsuna already beside her, robe in hand. Her eyes revealed nothing as she nodded respectfully to her charge.

"He's waiting, Rukia-sama."

For a moment the young woman looked from the robe to the maid, gaze turning to once again see the shadow of the man on the other side of her door.

Nodding, she kicked away the sheets and took the robe from her companion, slipping it on. It was to her surprise then, that instead of being led to the doorway she was steered towards the bathroom attached to her room.

"It is not right for a lady to ever be seen anything other than composed." Was Setsuna's gentle chide in her ear.

A breathy little chuckle was all Rukia could muster at the random etiquette lesson. Even so early, the irony could not be lost on her.

The shower, though warm, did little to help the chill that settled in her heart. When she finally stepped out back into her bedroom, the black haired youth hesitated in front of Setsuna, looking down at the box in her hands and back up to meet unwavering eyes with a question clearly reflected in her gaze.

This wasn't her shinigami uniform.

"As per Lord Kuchiki's orders, you are to wear this today, Rukia-sama."

What could she say? No? Of course not. So she just nodded numbly, swallowing as the box was opened before her and the delicate tatoshi paper was carefully removed.

"I can't wear this." Before she could take the words back they slipped past her lips and she looked up at her maid with wide-eyed desperation. Pale fingers tightened around the hold they had on her robe, water dripping rivulets down her stunned features.

The article in the box was too beautiful and definitely not for someone as. . . undeserving. . .as her.

Even her fingertips refused to come in contact with the fabric carefully folded, afraid it would crumble under her touch.

It was exquisite silk that looked as if it were spun from the purest of blood red roses. A furisode, she realized as it was lifted reverently out of the box by her maid, with large, beautiful blossoms in whites to rival the moon's glow and the perfect tinge of blushing pink shading their large luminous petals. The branches that held the blooms were painstakingly crafted midnight black and olive green hues that accented the glow of their blossoms and if she were to dance within it, Rukia could almost feel the branches sway upon the sleeves and across her legs to a breeze ringing in her ears.

"I can't wear this." She repeated breathlessly as Setsuna smiled understandingly.

"But you will." Was the simple reply before Rukia was calmly guided towards the folding three way mirror in the corner of her room.

It wasn't an easy process. Even with Setsuna as experienced as she was, there was no denying the fact that Rukia had never done this before. Her hair and what little makeup she wore was done first so as not to hinder the process, feet clad in soft tabi. She looked at her reflection in the mirror as the gold obi was tied properly around her tiny waist and for a moment she wanted to get out of the outfit she was convinced was worth more than her life.

This girl in the mirror—who was she?

"Do you know where he's taking me?"

Brown eyes slipped up to cryptically glance at the young woman before Setsuna answered with a shake of her head. "I am but a maid, Rukia-sama. What the lord of the manor decides to do is not for me to question, but to obey."

Rukia's pink rouged lips pursed, but otherwise gave no further indicated comment on the matter.

When finally she had been fully dressed and there was no reason to stall further, Setsuna took her arm and helped her walk slowly towards the door so that she could get used to the zori on her feet.

Standing as tall as her small figure would allow, the petite shinigami lifted her chin and swallowed, glancing towards her companion and giving a small nod. At her confirmation, Setsuna bowed before taking the doors and sliding them slowly open.

Byakuya had his back to them but had turned at the sound of the wooden doors. Whatever reaction the younger of the Kuchiki siblings expected from her adoptive brother, what she saw instead certainly wasn't it.

Their eyes met, violet on gray, and Rukia couldn't look away. They were locked suddenly, frozen as she tried to make sense of the way his gaze reflected like an ocean, profound with something she had sworn to never instigate in his heart after everything that had transpired on Sokyoku Hill.

Sadness.

Sadness was there.

It was suffocating and binding, constricting her throat and leaving the feeling almost tangible to her fingers if she ran them over her brother's solemn features. Her heart was beginning to break little by little in every second that transpired between them.

"I-I . . ." He hated it when she stuttered. Rukia realized it as soon as the word tried to leave her mouth and so she clamped her jaw shut, looking up at Byakuya grimly instead. She noticed with some relief that it had pulled him out of whatever stupor he had fallen into, eyes cold and more withdrawn than usual—but could she blame him?

Whatever words she had meant to say (I'm sorry?) lifted from her mind like the pulling of a veil, leaving her wondering if that was really what she had meant to say.

"It suits you." Was all Byakuya said before she smiled weakly, confused, but taking the arm he offered and walking slowly away from the woman watching from the small room.

Rukia didn't dare question where they were going.

It didn't take long for it to become apparent that they were heading towards the dining room, neither sibling taking in the splendid view of the manor's lush gardens. Even with the sun warming their backs the darkness crept inside their minds for different reasons, deeming them immune to the beauty of the bright day.

Even so, neither was mentally capable of allowing themselves to lament such small matters.

Two maids bowed before opening the shoji doors towards the dining area, Rukia shying away from the very obvious stares aimed her way as they passed. Used to her usual morning routine, she made to walk towards her seat until her brother's gaze and a light tug on the arm hooked around his let her know she wasn't to sit there today. More than a little taken aback, Rukia could do little but comply with his silent request, uncomfortable with the totally different view than what she was used to once she was fully seated.

This was the first time she had ever sat beside as opposed to across from him.

Violet eyes rose subtly to the taller form of her brother, studying in awe the minute creases in his clothes, catching the faint smell of his shampoo, and feeling the warmth radiating from the muted reiatsu he exuded—and though it seemed ill fitting, she found his silent companionship reassuring.

Breakfast was set before them, Byakuya taking a careful sip of his tea. It didn't take him long to note his adopted sister's stare towards her plate with all the rapture of a vacant body.

"You should eat."

Snapping back to attention with a slight jump, his sister's gaze rose sheepishly as she spoke. "I'm not very hungry right now, but thank you Byakuya nii-sama."

Glancing at her, Byakuya took his fork and knife and methodically began cutting away at the simple western dish set before him, doing so with barely a look at his moving hands.

"If you get it dirty, we could just get another one." Cheeks burning at how easily she was read through, Rukia shook her head.

"I'm not that hungry anyways." She began meekly. "I can wait until later."

There was disapproval in his glance, and even though Rukia knew this she refused to touch the food before her. It wasn't until her brother's voice broke through her thoughts again that she looked up from the zoned out state she tried to stay in to avoid thinking of the food.

"A Kuchiki should not waste."

Byakuya caught her wince but said nothing more. He continued eating even as he heard the light clinking of the fork against the plate, eating slowly himself to give her more time.

Today was planned, after all. There was no rush.


The ride felt eternal.

Rukia had never been in a carriage before, and doing so for the first time under strange consequences such as these made her highly wary of something that on a different day would've kept her delighted. It was a carriage lifted straight out of the Victorian-influenced mangas she had read in the living world, plush and full of ornate detail on all sides. The gold swirling designs gave deep contrast to the black of the box they were in, cushions a shade of blood red and silky soft to the touch.

But even with all the luxury surrounding her, the petite shinigami was at the very least rather proud to say that she had not in any way damaged anything yet. Her clothing was still immaculate at the cost of half her breakfast, which she figured was all she could stomach before the nerves overtook everything and she really did spill on herself.

Cutting her losses and all that.

Not that any of that mattered since really, there had yet to be any word from her brother as to what the occasion was. But whatever it was, it was not going to be anything good.

She shifted.

Not one word had been spoken between the siblings—the only two inside. Setsuna was riding with the carriage master, as per society's rules, and so Rukia could find no one to bounce all the nervous thoughts off of. So instead she found herself fidgeting. Whether Byakuya noticed or not was beyond her at the moment, too enthralled by all the hype and confusion swirling in her own head.

"Bring Sode no Shirayuki with you." He had requested at the table as she had raised the fork to her mouth. Rukia had frozen at the statement, biting back the urge to question the odd demand. For a moment her fork had hovered, her head bobbing slowly as she chose instead to nod.

"Yes, nii-sama."

She had been trying to dissect every moment of that morning down to the very way he held the utensils. Was there a clue she had missed? Something he had tried to tell her in some other way? Her intrigue and worry were so bad even, that she didn't notice that the carriage had long come to a stop at the bottom of a heavily forested hill gated off by high stone walls.

When finally she did look up, Byakuya had already begun opening the side door and stepped out. He waited patiently as both Setsuna and the coachman eased her out of the carriage, offering his arm to her as soon as she straightened but saying nothing.

The day was beautiful. If she hadn't been so constricted by the clothing, Rukia might've stopped for a moment to close her eyes and take a deep breath of the fresh air to calm her nerves. As it was, all she could do was thank the two servants, Setsuna giving her a long, reassuring look as she handed Rukia's katana over slowly before stepping back.

The weight was comforting in her hand, grip tightening as the other arm lightly lay over her brother's.

Ahead the gates had already been opened by the coachman. He said nothing, only bowed to the both of them before allowing them through and wrapping bony fingers around the metal to pull it closed once again. The loud protest of the wrought iron gate sent a shiver down Rukia's spine as her head involuntarily jerked back to watch the man lock it tight.

"Come."

It wasn't in a menacing or demanding way. If anything, the Kuchiki leader's voice was firm enough only to rip her eyes away from the gate and for that Rukia could only be thankful. There was something that completely unnerved her about the place as soon as they set foot inside and having him remind her he was there gave her a lifeline to cling to, some firm ground even though he still owed her an explanation.

Violet eyes fell to Byakuya almost in gratitude but he had long turned away from her gaze. And though she didn't understand why he reacted that way, Rukia only swallowed and walked with her head held high beside her brother—it was after all, the Kuchiki way.

But there was no one around.

It didn't take her long to realize they were the only two along the well worn path that winded up the hill lazily. Her eyes strayed from left to right and she strained to catch sight of movement, able only to discern the shapes of some birds, possibly a squirrel or two, and a trail of ants carrying a bright green leaf up a stump to her left.

That was when she noticed them.

Stones everywhere.

Hidden mostly by moss and high grasses, neglected for a very long time and showing signs of deterioration. These couldn't possibly be natural—the different shapes gave testament to that. The little path took them close to one of them and resisting the urge to stop to look, Rukia was barely able to make out the faded marks of a name on them.

It hit her then.

"It's not too much further." A sideways glance was all she spared to her brother, nodding grimly as they continued.

There was after all, no happiness in a graveyard.


It was a little grave—unmarked but clean, the only stone she had seen with not a single speck of dirt on it. There were small offerings and incense that must've been brought not too long ago—the perfume still lingered lightly around them, cloaking them almost in welcome.

When Byakuya stopped, Rukia did with him. Her head rose in question and their eyes met, and it wasn't until then that she finally felt her brother's arm begin to slip away from her. Her initial reaction was to hold on to him tighter out of a panic that had been stewing in her heart for the whole of the morning, but she repressed it before the urge reached down to the trembling hand that felt the fabric of his clothes slip past it.

For a moment they stood like that, the morning sun falling in ribbons between the leaves, dancing as the forest life moved among the many branches. Even here the grass was a vivid green, but it was wild. It seemed as if very little was done to keep the sites cleared except for the one they stood before, and the petite shinigami wondered fleetingly how they could allow such insult to the other people's graves—felt indignant on their behalf even.

There was no breeze, no sound past the occasional scurry or flap of wings.

Swallowing, Rukia barely noticed when her brother finally moved—watched intrigued as Byakuya took her hand and revealed the flower held in his own: a bloom she recognized only to be grown in the gardens behind his room, dusted a light lavender that reminded her of Sode no Shirayuki.

Without a word he took it and placed it in her open palm, closing her fingers gently around it.

The beauty of the bloom in her hand left her breathless for a moment, the young woman stunned that her brother would go so far as to kill one from his own gardens to bring it as an offering to someone. He never allowed anyone to touch them, let alone help him tend to them. Out of all the things growing around the Kuchiki manor, they were the one type that he refused to let anyone care for. To see one now willingly placed into her care left her reeling and completely unable to hide the emotion that flitted onto her features as her head jerked up towards his in question.

Who could possibly mean enough to her brother that he willingly let go of such a prized rarity so easily?

She almost asked him, lips parting to do so until she noted his gaze and how he turned meaningfully then, almost gesturing with it towards the grave as if urging her forward. Rukia glanced from him to the stone, unsure of herself even as she swallowed, carefully caging the bloom between curled fingers and palm, taking the first measured step towards the gravestone. Looking back over one shoulder she allowed her uncertainty to show for a moment, almost expecting Byakuya to berate her for having moved without his verbal permission.

It was to her surprise then, that she was met instead with clear gray eyes that offered no chastise.

Gods, it was there again, that awful grief in his features that seemed to age him by centuries in that one moment and almost made her turn back towards him instead. But then he closed his eyes and shook his head, pursing his lips and gesturing for her to keep going. When his eyes opened once more, she realized, the mask of a man unperturbed returned.

The fist around Sode no Shirayuki visibly tightened.

Her second step followed when she saw Byakuya wasn't going to move, and she bit hard on her bottom lip to keep from asking questions. Maybe Setsuna would berate her later for ruining her painted lips—but that didn't matter at the moment so she discarded the thought for now. Instead she squared her jaw, holding Sode no Shirayuki against the flower with both hands now to keep them from trembling as she finally came to kneel before the tiny gravestone.

It was simple, she noted. No final words, dates, anything to give any indication of the person who's soul had long ago passed into the cycle she bore witness to protect. If anything there was more life surrounding the stone than the forest itself in the form of offerings, incense, and flowers even—orchids.

Like the one she held.

Violet eyes rose to the name on the stone and her hand hovered near it as she tried to set the orchid among the other offerings.

Hisana Kuchiki.

"She loved orchids." Byakuya's voice startled her in the silence. There was something in the usual Kuchiki tone—an undercurrent she couldn't decipher that pulled at her heartstrings almost enough to make her turn. She was afraid though, of what she would see.

"They were reminders, she said, of the place where she had tried to raise you."

Numbly, Rukia set the flower down among the others.

This was her sister.

This was the girl who had the same face as her, who had stolen Byakuya nee-sama's heart, who had been someone in the world one time—someone who breathed and spoke and told stories; who ate and walked and maybe even laughed sometimes.

There was a lump in her throat that Rukia tried to swallow.

Had she sung and held her, rocking her like the hollow had on the roof? Had she offered her warmth and compassion, soothing the tears of Rukia's baby self away and fought until she had no choice?

Rukia's vision blurred for a moment, shoulders trembling as she tried to take a hold of the emotions that suddenly engulfed her. Sode no Shirayuki was touching her cheek, fingers cool and breath chilling her skin as she whispered something Rukia could not hear past the ringing in her ears.

"Why. . ." She asked breathlessly, trying to calm the erratic beating of her heart. She was trying really hard not to break down, to show the mess—the confusion—that she was feeling inside, fingers wrapped tightly around the scabbard of her katana and ears full of the lullaby from the night where she nearly died.

The harder she tried to see past the growing tears, the more it echoed in her mind and it finally reached a point where she had to clamp her jaw shut, stumbling somehow back to her brother's side.

Byakuya nii-sama is here. I can't cry!

I can't. . . .

She was clenching her jaw so tight that she thought her teeth would be ground to dust. Tears made her vision blur in and out of focus on the writing etched across the stone and looking forward only served to remind her and make her clench her fingers tighter around the blade in her hands, knuckles stark white against the pale of her skin.

"You remember that song, don't you?"

Had that really been. . . her voice?

"Hisana spent many days talking about you. She would tell me things about you—like the birthmark on your left shoulder blade. She said that it looked like a crescent moon to her."

No one had seen it before. It was too small to notice unless someone came up close to her back and so the only ones fully aware of it were Setsuna and herself—or at least that was what the petite shinigami had thought.

"She said that you would probably have a scar on your knee-" (She did.) "-And that the violet of your eyes came from your father. The scar came from a time you two were running from a Hollow and that your eyes. . . they were something that she just knew when she looked at you."

There was no reply, and Byakuya found it hard almost, to continue. He knew Rukia was listening even though she was silent and he wondered what bitter thoughts were running behind the violet of her eyes as she stared solemnly at her sister's grave.

The tears glittered in her gaze but she seemed determined not to let them fall.

If only he could just tell her everything. Tell her how his wife spoke of nothing but her, breathed, ate, and lived by the hope that somewhere out there her sister was among the many throngs of strays in the dirtiest holes of Rukongai surviving.

There were many days he had spent by Hisana's bedside listening to countless stories of the little ghost in her heart. He remembered the way her voice cracked whenever she got emotional—the way she fidgeted (like Rukia) when anxious, or how she lifted a hand that could've nearly passed as a ghost's and forced herself to be properly dressed and seated by the porch to await his return from his duties as captain, hoping he would have news for her.

Byakuya memorized every detail she had mentioned. He took to reciting the little tidbits in his mind as he stared at the ceiling of his large empty room into the hours of the morning, learning by heart that Rukia was a child with hair as dark as the deepest night and eyes a shade of violet more vivid than any flower. He learned that she wasn't a very loud child, and that her nose was tiny and pert. He came to know well that she wasn't afraid of the dark and that Hisana would leave her alone for hours at a time to search for food, terrified that one day she would be unable to come back.

And it became burned into his heart that above all, Hisana was more afraid for her sister than herself.

In this way Byakuya came to know, to understand the shape of his wife's face, fearing every time might be the last time he would be able to. Because it was only in those times that little Rukia was brought up, that little Rukia was described and fleshed out again and practically formed in his own arms- that was when Hisana would come to life if only for a little while.

The stories, anecdotes, every little word served to fuel her drive to stay alive if just a day longer in hopes that Byakuya would succeed where she had not and it lit up her eyes before the cough returned and everything was drowned out by her inability to breathe again.

And though he could not find how to put all this into words, Byakuya knew it was something he had to get across to the young shinigami. She had to know that Hisana loved her with all her being.

She had to believe it in her heart as deeply as she believed in everything else.

Because he was well aware that if he chose to marry and another woman came into their lives, it could mean she was pushed into the shadows again as useless—could be pressured more as a shinigami as a consequence, and expectation would rise above the meager beginnings she had been forced out of to the point of maybe even breaking her.

And if she was forced to marry . . . well . . .

The nights had been long while she had been away on her mission in the real world—had given him a chance to think, to consider every possible outcome of their situation with minute detail. And though he still had yet to find a reasonable solution with minimal damage, there was one thing in every scenario that ran through his mind as he watched the clock go endlessly that he came to realize he could not allow.

Because logically, who wouldn't let hatred blossom for a being who had abandoned them and then left them at the mercy of a stranger? Who wouldn't be angry at ghosts of the past that cast a shadow so deep they might as well be drowning in it?

Who wouldn't hate the dead woman who had ultimately forced them down a certain path?

At last it came to fruition in his mind, this urgency to nurture, the plans for this very trip coming to him rapidly after. Because their time was running out and there was no avoiding it. And maybe one day soon, Rukia would come to hate him as well for whatever path he chose for the both of them—in fact he almost would willingly bet on it. He didn't blame her, to be honest, but there were things even he could not overstep and the time to truly keep to his word had come.

There was no turning back now.

So maybe she would hate him—but she didn't have to hate Hisana. And if protecting his wife's final link to the young woman beside him meant having to step into the role of the hated, then so be it.

Maybe this would be his final call to arms under his vow to his dead wife. Someday, someone else would have to take up the mantle of protector by her side as her husband, would become the man to help her when she was down and take it upon them to breathe only for her—of that much he would make sure. The feeling such a thought gave him wasn't a pleasant one, but he swallowed it anyways. If it happened then that was it.

There was nothing he would be able to do to change it-but until the time for their parting came, there were things he still had to do.

"She described you in detail in hopes that when she finally did give me her final request I would have all the information I needed."

Rukia stood silent, unwavering, pillar-like beside him. But nearly half a century with her in the shadows of the manor taught him to see the subtleties even now she failed to hide. Things like the way her jaw clenched, or how her eyes failed to snuff out all of the overwhelming confusion—how even the light crease in her pale brow revealed she was trying not to cry though the tears were all but gone from her eyes.

And so, without much warning (and before he changed his mind) he hesitantly pulled his sister closer into a loose embrace. Hisana would've wanted this, he reasoned, trying to ignore the way Rukia stiffened in his grasp.

"You were never afraid of the dark and you got sick once when you're sister tried to feed you fish. For a while she thought you were allergic to something in them so she stopped feeding you that."

The deep timbre of his voice resounded in his chest and hummed through her ear in a way too soothing to ignore. It was soft but it had the undertone of strength she had come to associate with him even though it too was laced with sadness. Only through that small concession did Rukia realize that she wasn't the only one hurting and fresh tears sprung to her eyes, realizing that more than the pain of growing up in uncertainty, her brother's inability to save his ailing wife, the love of his life, must be a million times worse because unlike her, he could've given her anything either world had to offer except the one thing she desperately needed: health.

For a moment Rukia felt lost as her brother gently pulled her away from him, thinking for a panicking second that she had shown way too much emotion and that she would be reprimanded for it. But then their eyes met and he slowly turned her to face her sister's grave, his hands pulling back on her trembling shoulders to force her to stand straight. Too confused to even stop the few tears that escaped meekly down her wet cheeks, Rukia allowed him to do it without much resistance, lifting her chin up automatically and allowing her brow to furrow when he told her to call upon her blade.

"Mae, Sode no Shirayuki." She beckoned in a quivering whisper.

Immediately the blade began to glow and the ribbon sprouted from the hilt, the familiar glittering bells sending a crisp echo through the forest surrounding them. The cool ripple in the joined reiatsu sent fallen leaves dancing and the long grasses swaying around them, the cold of her spirit sending a light almost electric tingle through her veins and giving the petite shinigami means to keep herself from spiraling into the emotions she felt.

It reminded her she wasn't alone.

Sode no Shirayuki had just barely finished her transformation before long warm fingers fell over Rukia's own small ones and Byakuya's hands began to guide her into lifting the blade. Surprised at the sudden intimacy, Rukia could do nothing but obey, relaxing her arms and becoming malleable in his grasp. When he finally seemed satisfied with how she was holding it he lightly (hesitantly) let go of her and took a step back. The long white blade twinkled proudly in the ribbons of light that filtered between the trees, breathtakingly beautiful in all her simplicity.

"Hisana should see Kuchiki Rukia."

The blade wavered subtly in the young shinigami's hand.

"Hisana should see the sister she dreamed of so much—someone she would be proud of."

A lady, she realized.

The energy left her limbs in one large wave, taking all the air from her lungs with it, pulled by the dawning of realization in her mind. Suddenly all the preparation, the clothes, the strange treatment, everything made sense.

A lady of refinement and grace with great pride as the shinigami she was—that was what her brother meant to bring—what he wanted Hisana to see.

The way her heart broke in that moment was almost audible to her as the grip she had on Sode no Shirayuki weakened and the katana slipped out of her grasp.

Sode no Shirayuki didn't say a word in Rukia's mind—didn't reprimand her for the treatment as she lay before Hisana's grave. She sat primly (tethered) beside her blade instead, watching, offering a warm smile to Senbonzakura as he came to sit beside her to keep silent vigil over their masters.

The fallen leaves didn't crunch under his feet—the birds didn't chirp.

Nothing moved.

Only in that silence did Rukia Kuchiki begin to tremble uncontrollably, numb to the feeling of the grass beneath her knees as they met the ground, unaware even of the tears that came in earnest from her violet eyes. She tried in vain to keep from offering a single sound but failed miserably, a small cry rising in her throat and escaping from the lips she clapped a shivering hand over before she hunched over more in shame of her state than anything else.

Everything she had done . . . her brother was proud of her. Through all they had been and every defiance she had done, he was proud of her.

And maybe somewhere, the spirit of her sister was smiling down at her as well.

The very thought made her feel humbled before the simple grave, moved to tears by that jumbled mess of happiness and a deep rooted sadness, grieving over the fact that she would never be able to speak to the woman that had helped shape her and even gave Byakuya nii-sama a glimpse of true joy.

Her violet eyes were closed, emotion overwhelming and sending her head spinning too much for her to try and rise. It came as a surprise then, when her petite frame was enveloped in strong arms and she was pulled into a silent embrace.

And though she didn't exactly understand, Rukia welcomed her brother's warmth, curling into him. Her tiny hands clung onto his clothes, her face burying itself against his chest and her mind reassured in the heartbeat beneath the layers, the smell of sakura blossoms coming from his skin filling her nose.

She cried for herself and for him—though in the end she felt it was more for her brother and the sadness that weighed him down, revealed by a sliver in his words to her that day. If her heart was in ruins then he was worse because unlike her, he had known the feel of Hisana's hand on his—knew what her favorite food was and how she slept, whether she liked to go barefoot or preferred sandals, and maybe even whether she preferred one season over another.

But most of all, he knew her love.

Rukia cried for what seemed like forever, feelings flowing out of her and engulfing everything in a blur of colors and senses; a swirl of muddled time.

It caused the effortless hold on her reiatsu to loosen, at one point feeling little ice crystals sticking to her hand when she reached to brush a few of the tears away. And though they came to even adorn his clothes, Byakuya said nothing.

If he thought she was revolting he didn't say it. If he thought that she should stop he didn't show it. Instead he stayed calm, arms cradling the young woman with nothing but unwavering patience.

There were no words of comfort because they were useless.

He couldn't lie and tell her it would be okay because even he wasn't sure at this point. Byakuya refused to lie to her. So instead he gave her the only support he knew how, ignoring the tears that stained clothes worth more than a tiny village—holding silently, staying close at a time he would usually be distant.

And it was funny really, the girl in his arms realized with a small hiccup, how Setsuna would really have something to chide her about now. She would go on and on about how long they had spent getting her ready and how the makeup was probably all ruined and how the smooth skin of her hands had smears of the eyeliner on them. She would reprimand her, gently but firmly, on proper etiquette and how she shouldn't have given into the emotion as easily as she had because she was a noblewoman and ladies of her status didn't cry in such an ugly and crude fashion.

Because that was what she was learning to be, no?

With that sobering thought in mind, weakened as her limbs felt, Rukia tried to take control over the tears, finally loosening the grip on her brother and slowly pulling away once her breathing began to even out. She wouldn't lie—even after he had stayed silent on her display for so long she was afraid to look up and see a disapproving look on his features—to see a subtle frown at her behavior or anything indicating that she shouldn't have allowed herself such a luxury.

So she didn't.

Instead the petite shinigami disentangled herself from him, hesitant, swallowing as she tried to regain her composure.

"Come."

She hadn't noticed when he had stood and picked up Sode no Shirayuki. Following the length of the blade to the hand that held it, Rukia swallowed before forcing herself onto shaky legs. The cool blade slipped from his hold to hers once she wrapped pale fingers around it, violet eyes studying his larger, more calloused hand for a moment before she took a firmer grip on her katana and pulled it towards herself.

The captain looked her over subtly, calmly pulling a small white kerchief from a hidden pocket and offering it to her. He waited, impassive, as Rukia took it and tried to the best of her abilities to compose herself, finally handing the cloth back with a weak 'thank you'. It was only when he returned to her side and offered his arm that Rukia finally found the courage to glance up at his face and into his eyes.

The gray steel gaze she had become accustomed to held steadily ahead of them. And though on the surface it seemed as if he was being uncaring, Rukia knew better. The way he slowed his stride for her and kept his arm firm underneath her own served as reminders that beneath it all Byakuya did care. It revealed more in its' silence than any words the captain possibly could've tried to say—offered a warmth and reassurance no spoken thing could do alone.

So she didn't question him.

Instead she lifted her chin, sniffing back the last of her tears as she tried to walk as confidently as possible beside him—like she belonged there, smeared eyeliner and all.

And as emotionally worn out as she was it wasn't past her to allow the tiniest of smiles to tug at the corners of her mouth (if only weakly) as they walked back to the carriage. Because no matter what happened, no matter who stepped into their lives or tried to destroy their world, Rukia at least could fight to her last breath knowing her precious nii-sama believed in her.

And that he always had.


The rest of the trip was a blur of silence.

The gate closed behind them and they moved into the carriage, both figures choosing to sit on the same side even though Rukia didn't dare to encroach on Byakuya's half of the seat more out of respect than any sort of fear of him.

They both needed time to think, after all.

Nonetheless, the trip seemed short as the younger of the two siblings finally allowed herself to relax her shoulders a bit, sighing lightly as the lavender of her gaze roved over the landscape through the window, following the gently sloping hills of green dotted with trees. When this slipped back into well worn dirt roads and people began to become less scarce she took to staring at the clear skies, following the trek of a flock of birds as they flew by.

It almost seemed like she blinked and suddenly she was back in her chambers, dressed now in a much less formal yukata and sitting on the porch, drinking in the magnificent view of the gardens behind her room.

If Setsuna wanted to say something she swallowed it down when she had first seen her master's pale complexion at their return to the carriage. In fact she hadn't said a word since they had returned, helping Rukia tidy herself up and choosing clothes for her that would not hinder the young woman. After that she excused herself, finding it unnecessary for her to stay with Rukia in such a deep state of thought.

Since then, Rukia hadn't moved from the porch.

Shinigami that she was though (so much for getting anti-sickness perks—what about achy muscles?), it didn't dull out the pain of her legs from sitting in the same position so long and so finally sighing, the black haired young woman rose to try and see if walking would get rid of the pins and needles sensation currently travelling through her staggering limbs.

"Hisana should see Kuchiki Rukia."

Her walk started first in a few circles around the gardens, at one point wondering whether she had seen the koi pond two or three times already after having covered the whole perimeter of the manor. Sighing at the thought, her eyes strayed back to the large building and she wondered whether she should instead take her walk inside. It didn't take her long to discard the idea though, frowning until her gaze fell on the front gate and an idea began to nibble at her mind.

"Hisana should see the sister she dreamed of so much—someone she would be proud of."

Before she could think that over and talk herself out of it, Rukia stepped towards the guards and waited for them to open the gate, stopping just outside to take off her sandals.

She didn't look back exactly.

"Come."

But she didn't look forward either.


For a moment Toushiro Hitsugaya stood, unsure whether to disturb the woman or not. From what he could see between the branches she was motionless—probably daydreaming or thinking and reluctance slowed his steps through the ankle high grasses.

What did he have to gain by disturbing her?

She wasn't moving at all. If it wasn't for the familiar reiatsu whispering past him in light waves, he wouldn't have even known she was there when he walked out of his office with the desperation of a man trapped by his own title and the shackles of inky signatures. It was getting to the point where it wouldn't be surprising to bleed ink in training. He needed to breathe and his feet led him here, which he hadn't really noticed (stuck in wanderings of his own) until the cool of her aura washed over him and left the hairs on the back of his neck standing.

It froze him there, staring involuntarily at the spot where he felt it most concentrated.

The reiatsu felt . . . off.

There was something wrong. Toushiro didn't know how he knew this, but it was there, forming a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach as he allowed himself two more steps forward before stopping again.

Hey, yeah, I saw you there and wanted to know what's wrong.

Yeah . . . that would go over well.

"There's something wrong. It is your duty as a captain to see what it is. I'm sure Sode no Shirayuki would appreciate it as well."

Begrudgingly, Hitsugaya admitted Hyourinmaru had a point.

Funny really, how he could face down beings like Aizen, take on Matsumoto's charm without a grimace, run a whole division efficiently, and yet he couldn't bring himself to find a good excuse to check on one little shinigami.

Emphasis on little.

With minimal effort he picked his way through the many woven roots until he could see her form leaning against the thick bark and sitting on one of the higher branches with knees drawn.

At the current angle he couldn't really see her face very well, and he swallowed down the uncertainty in his voice, marveling fleetingly how it was she even got up there in a yukata.

"If I didn't know any better I would swear you're up to something."

Startled, Rukia looked down, blinking large violet eyes in surprise. To the captain's relief, there wasn't even an inkling of annoyance at his sudden disruption. "Hitsugaya-taichou, what are you doing here?"

He raised a brow in question.

"Am I not allowed to come here?" Arms crossing, he regarded her with a straight face even as a furious blush that he could see even from below overtook her features.

"N-no, of course you're allowed! I'm sorry, that came out wrong." Cerulean orbs followed as she easily leapt down from the branch with skilled ease, landing gracefully a few feet from him and bowing deeply.

"My apologies, sir."

She looked tiny in the dark blue summer yukata she wore, the bow on her back looking more like short thick wings than the folds of the obi. The yukata itself was plain, with large yellow flowers and revealing how her hands clasped together nervously, as well as the shuffling of petite (and bare) feet.

His eyes met hers as he quirked a brow. "Don't you wear shoes?"

"They're under the tree."

Pointing in their general direction, she faced him again with sudden anxiety as she realized the implications of having breached etiquette in front of a captain (noble upbringing should never be forgotten, after all). She had known from the beginning it would be a long road to finally become the perfect lady of the Kuchiki noble court, but now that she was actively going to try, it seemed worse.

Kicking herself mentally, she almost wanted to sigh in frustration at her inability to keep to these new self-implemented rules after such a short time (well, at least the instructions she had tried to ignore from the elders before).

"Not even a day and already I'm forgetting etiquette."-A wince- "I apologize."

Regarding her for a moment with both brows rising to his hairline, Hitsugaya almost snorted but swallowed it down when he noticed Rukia was serious. Certainly if she was worrying about such trivial matters everything was okay, no?

It had to be—so then why was he still not convinced when he looked at her?

Allowing his face to fall back to its usual bored expression, his head tilted to one side as he asked, "Is it Sereitei business?"

Looking rather befuddled, Rukia allowed her brow to furrow pensively before she answered in a hesitant voice, "Uh. . . no?"

"Then it's none of my business either."

Ever the serious one, Rukiathought with fondness. She relaxed into a smile, hiding it behind a petite hand before nodding. "Thank you, Hitsugaya-san."

Before he could become flustered over her sincerity Toushiro waved her action away, trying to hide the pink tinge on his cheeks as he tried to change the subject.

"So what are you doing here? You're wearing civilian clothes so I'd say it's safe to assume it's your day off—shouldn't you be at home enjoying it?"

He didn't miss the slight falter of her smile.

Ah, so he was right.

Her gaze turned towards the lake and there was a slight crease to her brow that he knew, from their recent encounters together, to be her subconscious revealing the turbulence underneath the calm and tranquil façade.

"Just. . ." Shrugging halfheartedly she replied, "needed a place to think."

Was that. . . her asking him to leave?

Of course it was, he thought immediately. She had looked deep in thought, silent as she was up in the tree, so what else was she there to do? See him? Of course not.

Irritation at his brainless whim overrode everything else in the captain's suddenly muddled head and the skin between his brows wrinkled into a mild glower as he looked sullenly away.

"I'll just leave you alone, I'm sure you have a lot to sort out then."

Turning to leave, he didn't expect the hand that fell on his shoulder. "No!"

Their eyes met as he faced her again and Rukia's cheeks became red, violet eyes concentrating on his feet. "I uh, I mean. . . you don't have to."

Slowly her hand slipped away, curling into a fist that fell to her side.

The distance between them wasn't much, but it might as well be miles. She was asking something of him that he was afraid to say yes to, unable to calculate the trillions of possibilities that flashed in his mind as they stood there. If he stayed it could mean something—anything—and that would drive him insane with what-if's (did she specifically want him to stay? Had the kiss actually meant something to her then? Was she trying to bridge that gap since he wasn't lifting a finger?).

If he left though, the picture still hidden in his breast pocket would mean nothing—would be short of useless except to maybe recall as a friendly little moment of chat, a time when comrades sat down and relaxed, comfortable in their detachment.

He would be building a wall between them.

Licking his lips nervously, he opened them to speak (not exactly knowing what to say), only to clamp them shut again as his eyes settled on the mauve shade of Rukia's. If there was ever anything that could stop his breath it was that vibrant hue of lavender—of uncertainty and a resolve that was shaken under the substantial weight of the feelings binding her.

She was wringing her hands—he was trying not to suddenly imagine his heart between them.

Finally after what seemed like forever, Toushiro allowed himself to sigh before gesturing lazily towards the tree where she had been perched.

"Come on." He muttered.

To hell with caution, to hell with worries. He was as human as her and she needed him. Maybe not him specifically (though he wasn't going to pursue this train of thought) and so the world could go screwy for a while if it meant helping calm Rukia's nerves—even if he had no idea what to do.

Visibly relaxing, his companion nodded. She didn't dare to climb the tree again. Doing so would be rude on her part, she figured, and at least this much she wanted to get right. Instead she followed Toushiro towards the base of gnarled, tangled roots and found a seat, eyes following the captain as he leaned against the rough bark and crossed his arms, gaze absently falling on the lake before them.

Allowing her back to slide down the rough bark of the tree, Rukia sat down beside him with crossed arms, head falling back as she looked up into the branches and found herself following the path of a bird landing in a nest near the highest parts.

She was close enough to touch if Toushiro wanted and yet also far enough away that it wasn't intimate, and he mentally thanked her for respecting his space even now.

And even though he really didn't mean to, he found himself comparing her to the young woman he had grown up with. She would've plopped down beside him. She wouldn't have cared about the space between them and she would've started spilling everything in her mind as soon as she had settled. Momo would've—

"I met my sister today."

Her eyes were glued to the swaying branches, face passive. If she noticed Hitsugaya's open, raised brow reaction, she didn't say anything. And if the white haired prodigy hadn't been such an avid observer, he would dare to say the serene smile on her face was real. Instead he swallowed, brow furrowed suddenly as he tried to choose his words more carefully at this insight.

"I thought your sister . . ."

"Nee-sama took me to her grave." When nothing but silence answered her, she continued in a near whisper. "He wanted me to meet her. We took orchids for her since they're her favorite."

The petite shinigami's shifting reminded him of their proximity and he looked down at her, noting how even now she was being proper in the way she carried herself. Sunlight fell on them in tiny puddles deformed by the shadows of the branches above and Toushiro could find nothing to say to the eyes that met his own, carefully guarded behind a wall that barely did anything to hide the insecurity from him.

Why Kuchiki Byakuya would do such a thing after what Rukia had seen on their mission was beyond him. Did he not see the effect it had on his adopted sibling? For her to come out so far from home, walking the whole way and willingly speaking to someone she barely knew on such a personal level she must've not been able to take the silence anymore. Surely Byakuya couldn't be cold hearted enough to just disappear when she needed him most, could he?

He couldn't. . .

Then again this was Rukia, and it wasn't hard to discern the high regard with which she spoke of her brother. So it was also a possibility in his mind that she had tucked away everything in her mind to keep from bothering him with such issues.

"It's very hard to get Byakuya-niisama to speak about her at all."

But what could possibly drive the stoic clan leader to finally reveal these things about his late wife?

And even with all that—what could Toushiro say to her? She was troubled and here he was standing beside her and yet he was totally unable to help against the onslaught of emotions now pounding away at her heart.

There was nothing he could do.

All he could see was the twin on the roof—the woman cradling a bleeding gigai and humming a lullaby lovingly, smiling back at him as if welcoming another of her children home. The large eyes, the soft features, the chill that ran down his spine- every time her image flashed in his head, the details became things he just couldn't erase no matter how wrong he knew they were.

"You're not. . . crying." Was all he could manage. His eyes fell to the lake again, the captain unsure of how to proceed without disrespecting his companion in any way and yet being unable to just reach down and console her. What could he do, hug her?

That was ridiculous.

Her light chuckle caught him off guard, eyes tearing away from the body of water to meet her gaze filled with mirth. Staring at him with brows raised, Rukia shook her head lightly as if he had said something childish.

"But Hitsugaya-san," the cadence of her voice was amused, as if it answered everything. "I'm a Kuchiki."

A momentary silence, and then, "I see."

What was your reaction? Did you cry in front of her grave?

An image of the petite shinigami on her knees, huddled and weeping tore through his ribcage and straight into his twisting heart unexpectedly.

Surely her brother couldn't have done anything like that out of malice, could he?

Could Byakuya. . . resent the fact that Rukia lived but his wife didn't?

The thought hung like a shadow, darkening his gaze and a frown subtly marring his features.

"Sode no Shirayuki would not allow it, I don't think. And after having nearly given his life for her on Sokyoku Hill, I doubt Kuchiki Byakuya would do something so foolish."

But what did Hyourinmaru know? Even after saying that, it came out not quite as confident as he thought it would. Besides, Aizen had gotten past them that way—they had learned that through a long and bloody battle.

But he couldn't tell that to Rukia.

"I don't know how to feel."

Sighing through his nose, Toushiro slowly, hesitantly took a seat beside her and leaned against the thick trunk, following her gaze into the upper branches. He absentmindedly plucked one of the long wisps of grass that had found its way towards the sun between the roots surrounding them, picking the thin strands of it apart with his fingers.

After a long while, he frowned.

"You're not supposed to know everything. No one is."

Glancing at her proved Rukia to be mulling his answer over until she feebly shrugged one shoulder, one finger lazily tracing the outline of one of the flowers on her yukata.

"I don't know what this is supposed to mean."

Her gaze lowered from the top of the tree towards his and they met, the uncertainty swirling in her irises openly as she studied his features.

The white of his brow was furrowed, the petite shinigami realized, and she wondered if it was out of worry.

For him to be there even if he had stayed silent would've been enough for her; would've helped remind her that through it all she was still alive and people still would be there regardless of the universe-changing event that had happened to her. Ichigo after all, had become her pillar of an unwaveringly normal tomorrow—her reminder that no matter what, they would have lunch together and he would still call her a midget, and that on occasions she could still harass him into buying Chappy artifacts from the living world for her.

Simplicity; solid ground in a world where she knew none.

But he was gone now—he was human after all and could only be minutely allowed into their troubles anymore. And Renji. . . he was too obsessed with becoming stronger to acknowledge her existence anymore.

It was all of this (plus the fact that it was him) that made her marvel at the fact that he was trying to be supportive in his own hushed way. It made something in her belly stir in a way she had never felt before, causing her to shift uncomfortably as she dipped her head to hide the sudden tinge on her cheeks.

Nobody had ever had this sort of effect on her. This. . . whatever it was. There were people she was definitely close to but they were friends—had always been. This little knot in her stomach was nothing like what she felt when she was around Ichigo. With him she could be herself and climb on his back, pester and prod him, and still he would always be there for her, would be the one to offer a hand and tell her to stop looking like crap because it wasn't the end of the world.

But this. . .

He wasn't saying much.

He wasn't moving or telling her to stand up, to get a grip, to just shake it off.

He just. . . listened.

She took that thought and cloaked her heart in its warmth as she turned to look at the form of the captain leaning against the tree beside her. Until then she hadn't really been connected with reality, too enveloped in her own thoughts to really realize that she was talking to someone who probably had a lot of work waiting for him back in his office and the notion sobered her.

As a shinigami, Rukia could allow herself no more of his precious time during such a critical turning point for their world, what with all the healing still left to do from the extensive damage. Sighing, her attention diverted to the roots surrounding them.

"Sorry." She murmured after a moment, "You probably don't want to hear any of this. I'm just here taking up your time. I should probably-" Making to get up, she was halfway there before a hand gripping her arm stopped her.

Both of them froze.

"Just. . ." Toushiro's grip loosened hesitantly. "Stay."

He frowned then, and Rukia found it an endearing combination that she had never seen before. Distaste was obvious in the way his brows knit but if she looked closely enough, something else was there in his eyes, tender almost, and certainly quite tangible—almost as if it were on the tip of his tongue and for a moment Rukia felt disappointed it hadn't made it through.

Nodding mutely, Rukia took her seat again. It didn't take her long to realize with a certain dread that she had actually somehow managed to sit closer to him this time.

Their shoulders brushed when she shifted uncomfortably, but neither made any indication of moving.

"If I had wanted to ignore you, I could've." The deep timbre of his voice made Rukia want to look up, but she resisted. Instead her gaze fell to the two hands between them—one pale and tiny, the other darker toned and strong looking—and she wondered briefly what it would be like to have it enveloping her own.

She subdued the notion before it could go any further.

"I could've just walked back to the division when I stepped out for fresh air and saw you sitting there."

He didn't see her—it was his senses that led him closer. Telling her this was embarrassing though, like he had actively sought her out and so he conveniently omitted it.

It wasn't necessary for her to know, the white haired youth reasoned.

"I didn't, though. And I don't think it crossed my mind to not come see what you were doing here."

She seemed to think over his statement over for what seemed like forever, a light frown letting him know she wasn't convinced yet. Before she could argue in any form of further pursuit of it however, he cut her off.

"I will stay as long as you need me to."

"But—"

"Shh." He demanded, putting a finger up to his lips and closing his eyes. His head fell back to meet the bark of the tree and he swallowed, settling himself better for what looked to be a nap.

"That was an order, by the way." He said, knowing without looking that there was a disapproving glare aimed at him.

It didn't take the petite shinigami long to give in, huffing her indignance at being left without a choice. And although it wasn't beyond her to ask why he had seemed motivated to come see her (let alone stay), she figured asking might really drive him away and so she instead clamped her mouth shut. Leaning back, pale eyelids fluttered closed as she sighed audibly.

Behind the dark of her closed eyes she imagined all the confused emotions pouring out in that one drawn out breath. Small hands fell into her lap as she relaxed into a more comfortable position, fingers no longer interested in the intricacy of the blooms on the yukata and delicate toes flexing to avoid the sensation of pins and needles. Once she had settled, stillness fell over them comfortably.

"I don't hate her for abandoning me." Was the small declaration after some time.

Toushiro could feel the warmth radiating from her figure even without moving. Lazily tilting his head towards hers, his eyes opened and he allowed a tug at one of the corners of his mouth into a partial smirk. "Well, it's a start."

She too turned then, heart stopping at the proximity of the captain (which she had not really thought was this much before). It would be too awkward if she turned away now. Knowing this, she forced her gaze to meet the captain's directly.

"Yeah," She replied, suddenly nervous. "I guess it is."

His eyes were beautiful, her scatterbrain thoughts pointed out delightfully. Horror stabbed through her when she sought and failed to force herself to look away, her own eyes wide with uncertainty at the situation. The aquamarine hue of the orbs that captivated her glittered in the scattered light, a storm roiling through them and mesmerizing her with its strength.

It seemed in that instant that all her senses decided to kick into overdrive, hitting the unsuspecting young woman with an onslaught of him.

His scent was light, subtle even, but nevertheless intoxicatingly masculine. There was nothing like it—it was unique and nothing she could give a name to, but it was there and embracing her. And what everyone else branded as an aura that left people shivering when he was near actually felt oddly warm to her.

Maybe even a bit soothing somehow.

It made Rukia realize that through everything, through every title he held, he was still human enough underneath it all that he could feel her there just as much as she did him.

He could probably smell the lavender off of her skin. Maybe he could also feel her hot breath upon his face as she unknowingly leaned in, lashes automatically lowering and closing the violet hue of her eyes away.

Closing, they both only slightly realized, like the distance between their lips.

Neither of them knew what to expect of it, but what happened was nothing short of dizzying. It had been a long time since Toushiro had honestly kissed someone but he doubted that that fact had anything to do with the enormous (and certainly heart stopping) effect Rukia immersed him in. Neither was aware of when his hand came up to cup her cheek, or when, for that matter, they had shifted to better kiss.

Her lips were softer than he could've ever imagined.

It seemed like the world stopped, revolving around nothing but the wave of sensations that drowned them. All at once Toushiro could feel her lips moving against his own and his heart hammering through his ribcage; the softness of her yukata left goose bumps in its wake against his skin. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he found himself wondering for a second if she could feel everything too, senses heightened to a level nothing could ever compare to.

But then Rukia's lips parted against his and any further indulgence into such idle curiosities crumbled away.

It wasn't until their lungs reminded them they needed air that they finally broke apart, if not a bit hesitantly. The warmth of his hand lingered upon Rukia's cheek, the hot of his breath sending delightful shivers down her spine. Their foreheads were touching, he realized, but a sudden fear to open his eyes and find this had all been a dream stopped him from trying to move.

It would be too wicked waking up to find her napping undisturbed beside him.

But it couldn't be avoided. Slowly they opened their eyes and reality began to sluggishly drag the world on its axis once more. Their gazes met and for a moment Toushiro couldn't remember how to breathe again, couldn't remove the hand that still lingered on her skin because it was telling him with every little bit of touch that she was really there beside him—flushed cheeks, violet orbs, and all.

Unfortunately for the two, this enrapture came along amid the delightful little crash course towards the wall of reality that would hit in three. . .

Two. . .

One. . .

Cue reality check.

Rukia had just kissed a captain.

Toushiro had just kissed the highest nobleman's sister.

Both had no idea what to say as they pulled apart in a hurry.

"I-"

"We-"

They both started and stopped at the same time. They lingered awkwardly in the silence for a moment, wide-eyed and unsure what exactly had just happened.

Had they really kissed or was it a delusion on Rukia's part? Certainly Hitsugaya-taichou would never kiss the likes of her! Maybe the strain from the day had finally made her sna—

"I meant that."

It wasn't necessarily what Toushiro had meant to say (stupid brain acting on its' own!) if he had really meant to say anything at all. To be honest, he just wanted to fill the silence (for all he knew he could've blurted something out about unicorns, but he wasn't quite that lucky apparently). But now, instead of making the moment more bearable he shot it straight to hell—cursing his sudden left footedness the whole trip down.

Rukia blinked at his statement, simultaneously realizing both that no, she hadn't imagined it, and yes, he also had just said what she thought he said. If her face was any indication, she was thoroughly embarrassed on both accounts.

"S-sorry, I. . . Maybe I should just stop talking now."

Whether the petite shinigami agreed or not she didn't say, instead scratching at her arm slowly for the sake of having something to do besides looking at him.

Her brain was mush—literally and figuratively, thank you very much.

The silence stretched agonizingly then. Funny really, how only moments before it had been just as quiet but not quite as unproduct-

"It's getting late." Toushiro suddenly said, hiding his embarrassment behind the business-like tone and the fist he hid a nervous cough behind. "You should start heading home."

"Yeah." She agreed vigorously, standing quicker than he thought possible.

The faster she could run away to hide under a rock the better, she figured.

"I should! I'll see you la-"

"I'll walk you."

This promptly served to make Rukia clamp her mouth shut for a moment, finally filtering his statement down into the "argue against it" layer of her logic. Unfortunately for her the white haired youth anticipated this as he stood, already picking his way through the roots with his back towards her.

She opened her mouth to retort—

"Say a single thing and I'll kiss you again."

-And promptly closed it instead, turning red as a tomato and nearly forgetting to grab her sandals before following after him.

Whether he had meant it or not she would rather not test-and If it was a joke, it wasn't a particularly funny one, she thought with a frown.

"Look on the bright side," Sode no Shirayuki quipped after they had reached the top of the little valley, a coy smile on her lips, "he could've been a bad kisser."

It was then that Rukia proved there was a shade of crimson brighter than Renji's hair.

Unfortunately for Toushiro, he was too busy mauling his irrational brain and cursing his inability to play it cool to be witness to such a colossal event.