A/N: D: I am soooooooo sorry. School has sucked out my soul! Either way, hope the longer chapter makes up for this. If you see anything wrong at all though, please let me know. I read it a million times and corrected and re-corrected to the point that my eyeballs hurt O_O

This chapter is dedicated to Yu, AKA "forgottentea" on deviantart, for being a wonderful supporter even though I went MIA for a while XD And to all of those who took the time to review, as well as wait patiently for my craziness.

Here's to you and your awesomeness!


Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix

(My heart opens itself to your voice)


(But I Assure You) My Debts Are Real II


The clock kept ticking.

Outside the scurry of daily activity continued without him—the sun was still shining, people kept moving, and Soul Society continued to sluggishly heal.

Everything sat almost exactly where it had been when he had first come in—whenever that had been—untouched, undone, and probably urgent in some way or other to the many cogs of their little system.

Meanwhile the clock continued ticking.

Whether it had been three minutes as opposed to three hours, it was hard to say. Either way, judging by the look on Toushiro Hitsugaya's usually stoic face, the world might have just reached its next heat wave a tad early. Brow furrowed, his eyes seemed to be trying to burn a hole through the things stacked on his desk as if that would do something to remove the buzzing in his head. The grim line of his pursed lips didn't move—what could speaking out loud do for him now, when the one person he wanted to ask everything wasn't there?

"This is stupid! A TOTAL waste of my time!" He wanted to shout at her. "I couldn't sleep thinking about these foolish little-"

Yes, that was it! Throw it all in her face!

"-can't believe you can get under my skin like this. Why? What the hell did you do to me?"

What would she do then?

What would he do then?

At one point or another a hand involuntarily had to make an effort to move the stack of reports away from where the white haired youth let his elbows land, and somewhere in the back of his mind he pondered idly whether that took up a minute—or ten.

His head fell onto cradling hands, a breath laden with too much confusion and not enough sanity leaving him in a large whoosh of air as he allowed himself to fall into the hands that slid past his temple and into his hair, fingers meshing.

Meanwhile the clock kept poking incessantly at him.

"Surely we have better things to be wasting our time on, no, Kuchiki?"

When was it that he had stopped staring at the ceiling of his room? How the hell had the sun risen again? Had it been a minute? An hour? When was it that he had changed into his uniform and dragged himself to the office just to sit there?

"I can't kiss you again. It won't happen so don't even try asking!"

The night had been a blur to him.

Trying to sleep (It was just a stupid kiss, it didn't mean anything) turned into tossing (did it?), turned into wandering thoughts (why didn't I say something to her before we got to her house?), turned into repeated images (she. . .), and turned into, well . . . trying again.

"You can't make me! I won't—I won't. . . do that again."

The images rushed into his head again and everything repeated for what seemed the millionth time that morning as he groaned in frustration.

Rukia's lips were sinfully soft—that alone should've been illegal on many a level (or so had been established while greeting the crack of dawn). And unlike the last time in some dinky little makeshift hole in a tree, Toushiro had been allowed to slowly taste her and smell the lavender coming from her skin as opposed to her passing by; to feel the smooth of her jaw line underneath his battle worn fingertips and see the many shades of violet pooled in her eyes.

There were so many shades in there- so many little quirks and things that could change them in an instant and it made him want to know what those things could be—

"Ok maybe just one last time—just this once. But don't you dare even begin thinking about it ever again, got it? I refuse getting pulled into these impulsive little troublesome whims of yours."

He was reclined back in his chair now. The sharp of his narrowed gaze looked at the new point of view, face blank as his fingers drummed the edge of his desk impatiently.

No matter how he turned the events over in his head, he couldn't seem to fathom why finally getting a kiss from her only made things more complicated—because it just wasn't enough. Instead of satiating any suicidal interest in the petite shinigami, it seemed to have only made it grow worse.

That single lapse in judgment hadn't been nearly sufficient and the more he reflected on it, the more questions and idle curiosities (did she use perfume? How was her hair so silky?) sprouted like weeds in his thoughts.

And if Rukia were to walk into the office right now, the captain didn't know what he would do. Part of him would want to just not even let her talk and just claim her mouth again regardless of who ever saw, because damn it he needed to know all of these things.

How exactly kissing her would lead to those answers was a trivial matter unworthy of his time.

Then again, the other part of him screamed to be reasonable and to not let his hormones take over—to be rational and just try to control his thoughts. He wasn't a hormonal teenager for crying out loud. And maybe yes, it had been quite a long time since any sort of romantic interest had come into his life, but this was nothing that couldn't be dealt with in a grown up manner.

Because a mature man would acknowledge the circumstances under which she returned the kiss.

But if he followed that train of thought, guilt twisted his stomach in knots—had been doing so as he lay staring at the ceiling with the dark as his only companion. Because no matter what way he tried to look at it, he had allowed his whims to overtake his sanity at a moment when Rukia had been vulnerable—and that rankled in his mind at the same time that the curiosity about her grew. It made him wonder if she had just needed the attention or she really meant it, as well as making him reassess what had been blown off as a simple, mild interest.

Because if that kiss had meant nothing to her. . .Well, it shouldn't mean anything to him.

But that was the root of the problem: it did.

What exactly it amounted to, he didn't know, but that would have to be shoved aside until he could sort out the dark feelings that were making him brood at a time when he should be sharp and alert to the happenings of his division.

He had to control this.

This. . whatever the hell it was.

Rukia had been open with something that she didn't have to. She could've kept silent, greeted him, and then left somewhere to be alone. But instead she had stayed and spoken about something that had changed her world, and again, the guilt gnawed at his insides for not having been more careful.

Eyes that should have been trained on the stack before him strayed to the empty desk near his and for a moment he almost saw her form hunched over, scribbling away furiously on a document. Catching himself staring at the empty chair, the captain scowled and turned reluctantly back to his work as he ran a frustrated hand through white hair.

What the hell had happened to him? What the hell was he doing?

It wasn't until a secretary meekly walked in with the usual bin of mail that he finally realized he had been muttering to himself, and that she had probably been standing at the door waiting for his usual acknowledgement for well over five minutes. And though she did have a strange look on her face, she set the bin down on the edge of his desk and bowed silently, but not before glancing back at him as if he had grown a second head.

It took him a while after her departure to realize he had thanked her and wished her a good day.

It seemed like forever, twisted in such mental knots and all, when the clock finally chimed eleven and Matsumoto came in with all the composure of a ghost. She too looked as if she hadn't slept, though when Toushiro did a double take he realized that with her it wasn't something pleasurable at all. Whether it was her lack of rambunctious attitude or the clouds hovering over her head, he instinctively braced himself, unsure how to take the silence that shrouded her.

She just stood there.

Was she even breathing?

Gods, did she find out somehow? The paranoia seeped in quicker than he could quell it. Was she being theatrical because it had been something by his initiative as opposed to her "infamous matchmaking skills"? What if someone had told her?

No, of course not!No one had been there, he was almost positive!

Then again he had been rather, uh, occupied at the moment.

Surely she hadn't. . . .

"I kissed her."

It was a statement he never thought he would admit to, let alone blurt out. It tasted strange as it rolled around his tongue, echoing in the stillness of the room as he swallowed nervously, almost hoping Rangiku would let it pass as a figment of wishful thinking.

The captain could've sworn even the furniture was holding its breath.

He wondered whether he should repeat what he had said (or just hide—this Matsumoto was too unpredictable and downright scary) even as she stood frozen before her desk, papers in hand. The blue of her eyes was glazed. If any gears were turning in her head, they certainly weren't being focused on his sudden urge to blurt out something which would have once garnered a pounce of ecstatic joy.

Toushiro was utterly dumbfounded by this side of his subordinate.

"I got dumped." She suddenly blurted as if speaking to the desk.

Toushiro opened his mouth and then closed it again.

Well. . . fuck. No turning back now.

The buxom blonde turned to him then, almost as if expecting something out of him and it made the youth panic. Was she going to cry? She wouldn't sink that low, would she? Surely she didn't expect a hug or something. . . right? RIGHT?

They seemed to stare at each other for a moment before the shoji doors slid open and Soi Fong walked in all business and rigidity, slapping down a report on Hitsugaya's desk (after a stiff hello) and promptly hooked her arm through Matsumoto's, pulling the papers out of her frozen hands and flinging them at the surface of her fellow captain's desk. Without so much as a warning she began to bodily drag the woman with her towards the door.

"Hitsugaya, the SWA is having a meeting soon so I'm borrowing your vice-captain." She threw over one shoulder. Hitsugaya opened his mouth as if to respond, found (once again) nothing to say and instead closed it before nodding dumbly.

"I'm not letting you be late this time. Yoruichi-sama is going to be there today and having people disrespect her presence by being late would be unforgivable." Soi Fong added with narrowed eyes, turning her attention to her companion. With a sigh more out of laziness than anything, Rangiku wiggled her arm out of Soi Fong's grasp as she opened the shoji doors with her free one.

"Okay." And then with a frown in her captain's direction, she complied and began to walk towards the door.

"It reeks of hormones in here anyways." She muttered darkly.

The scathing glare was instantaneous behind her. "MATSUMOTO!"

"Did you hear, Soi Fong? He finally kissed a girl."

Both of Soi Fong's brows rose up to her hairline but the look in gray eyes revealed her total mockery as the captain of second division made a noise of halfhearted sarcastic interest.

"SHUT UP!"

Ignoring the fuming young man, Rangiku shrugged nonchalantly and slid the doors shut behind her, but not before letting in two confused looking interns. Beside her, the captain of the second division rolled her eyes and prodded her companion further into the hall.

Dumped or not, Toushiro decided her secret stash was going to suffer a devastating loss again tonight.


This was beyond strange—all of it.

Try as she might, Rukia found it impossible to meditate with everything that was buzzing around her head. She shifted for what seemed the millionth time from her perch on a boulder and sighing in defeat, opened her eyes to the blinding sunlight, squinting to minimize the sting.

How could she concentrate on anything? Could she be blamed? How did one react to the things that had happened to her yesterday?

Back when Byakuya had revealed to her the existence of Hisana as her sister, Rukia had taken it with a grain of salt. Because, she had concluded after a few restless nights, the loss had been more of an impact on her adoptive brother than he let on. The fact that he had actually honored his word long after her loss was something he didn't have to do—but the fact that he did showed the love he had for his late wife and it revealed to Rukia that there was more to the man than she had originally given him credit for. It exposed what he could never express in words, making her ebb the flow of curiosity that flowed through her whenever she found a relic of her sister's in the house.

She wouldn't touch them—it felt wrong for her to do so.

But. . . this was beyond her being allowed to see her sister's things. Seeing the grave made it many times more real than just seeing things that could've one day belonged to her—made it more real by the presence of Byakuya behind her.

It solidified the other woman's presence in her life, like the lullaby. What little she could make out between reality and the strength of the poison, had it really been what Hisana had sounded like? That breathy, gentle, high pitched whisper?

There was a part of her that was skeptical, wondering if the deep vibrations of unrest it sent into her heart were only responding to what she wished to hear, to know. The black of her thin brow furrowed at the bitterness that crept into her mind when she realized then, that the only true fountain of knowledge of her own past came in the form of an enemy that had died by her own hand.

And there was no turning back now.

There was nothing she could do about that no matter how much she wished otherwise. It wasn't like she could turn back the clock to stretch out the time she had spent in the hollow's presence, asking it all sorts of questions her own memory had hidden away from her.

Asking Byakuya was out of the question for the moment as well. He had given her more than enough by their visit alone—he needed time to heal, contrary of whatever his stoic face said.

And then there was . . . captain Hitsugaya.

It wasn't really until after he had left her at the front gates of the mansion (after a drawn out walk in awkward silence) that she began to really look at the many different interactions she had had with him.

The warmth radiating from the jacket that was draped on her shoulders in the night—the breath that fanned across her hair when her cheek fell to the crook of his shoulder in the car; these were things that when she thought about it, were a lot more intimate than she had given them credit for because he hadn't pushed her away.

And she was well aware of his intelligence—of all the chances he had to shut her completely out.

Just as she had as well, but refused (or neglected) to do so.

Why hadn't she ever considered drawing a line? At the point where he had kissed her, maybe, in Hueco mundo, or even after that at Urahara's when she found herself healed by his hand?

Could she even have the heart to do that?

"No," Shirayuki answered in her mind without hesitation, "You wouldn't."

But he was Hitsugaya, Toushiro! This was the guy known throughout Sereitei for being as frigid as the element he represented. It was like trying to reach the moon while having your feet planted to the ground—it just wasn't possible.

"I meant that." His deep voice echoed in her head.

Then again. . .

He was warm, he was a soul just like her with flesh on bone—he was in the sense of their world, human. Thinking about him in that light as opposed to the prodigy of Soul Society certainly made him have more dimension in her heart (as if everything he had done thus far hadn't done that enough).

But that. . . . it scared her a bit. It was stepping into territory she wasn't sure she wanted to again. Because Renji had made the decision for her many years ago when he let her go without a fight, cruelly setting a wall between them that she knew would never be torn down—even if she had gotten over that.

And Ichigo. . .

No, that door was one she was not going to open today.

So then, she wondered in frustration, what did this make them? Because they had kissed but they were just barely friends—and whether there was anything other than physical attraction between them was hard for her to surmise. On his end it was hard to tell since she had never been one to be around him, but on her end, she had no idea where to begin.

She had kissed him back—what about starting there? The fact that she had done so could at least cement that she thought of him grudgingly a little more in the way Sode no Shirayuki had mentioned than she had thought. Granted, it wasn't like she couldn't have a crush on him, but the fact that they had kissed threw everything she thought she knew out the window.

Did he like her?

She thought of the reflection of herself in the mirror that morning and grimaced.

Could anyone like that?

Her face turned red as she tugged on a wayward strand of hair.

Could anyone like that?

A tomboy with the upbringing of a ruffian and the vocabulary to match when she became really heated in an argument. She didn't flinch at the sight of blood, nor blush when a man took off his shirt—it was just all natural occurrence in her world, seeing as much of the district she grew up in was neglected and lacking in any sort of luxury as decent clothing.

Junrinan—that was a far cry from the dilapidated town she had called home.

And besides—why the hell would he ever turn to someone like her when he still had lieutenant Hinamori? She would get better eventually—Rukia had faith in that.

Honestly she wouldn't blame him for going to her when she finally did.

There was no place for a chance there.

"You try any harder and your face is going to stay like that." Rukia jumped in surprise, swiveling her head to the redhead who's shadow covered her even while seated.

Sighing, she shrugged. "If I try to meditate any harder my head might explode."

"Your brother wouldn't be very happy if I told him how you died."

"Yeah," she said, suppressing a smirk as she tried to imitate her sibling's stiff composure, squaring her shoulders and scrunching her nose, "it wouldn't be an honorable death for a Kuchiki."

"Quite unfitting for a lady, if I may say so." Ashido said, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Rukia, wincing, uncurled herself from the lotus position.

"Hey—you're just as much of a ruffian as I am, so you can't talk." She replied, aiming a halfhearted kick in his direction.

"I lived in a forest for hundreds of years—I'm sure my ruffian ways can outdo yours, Rukia. Plus I'm not a lady."

"Oh, Rukongai can give you a run for your money." Glancing up at him, she didn't hide the smirk this time, adding, "Old man."

"Be nice to your elders—I'm sure your brother wouldn't appreciate you abusing his assistant."

Rukia quirked a brow. "His assistant?"

"Yeah. Right now there's no open positions for me in the sixth, so he's keeping me as his personal assistant."

Her face didn't hide the surprise at all as both brows raised to her hairline. "Nii-sama must really like you."

Ashido shrugged. "That doesn't help my case with Abarai-san."

The vice captain and him had met in Hueco Mundo, though their interaction had been close to nil. And honestly, from the first impression it seemed to Ashido like he was a decent guy. Maybe it was the fact that Ashido had shown up out of the blue and taken to being the elder Kuchiki's shadow, or the fact that he was a possible threat to his position that Abarai didn't like him? He had no idea—all he knew was that his fellow redhead had no qualms in showing how he felt.

And oh did he ever feel the nice little glares aimed at him.

"Ah." Rukia rolled her eyes. "Just take him out drinking and he'll be your best friend before you know it. I would suggest saving up a few paychecks beforehand though."

Raising a brow, Rukia nearly laughed when she saw how seriously he was considering it. Brow furrowed in thought, he shrugged, heading over to another boulder in the clearing and settling down.

"I will keep it in mind." He finally said, closing his eyes.

Tilting her head to the side, Rukia could've sworn that she had heard her brother's voice instead of Ashido's in that moment. Pegging it to the effects of being around him too much, she smiled as she slid off of the boulder and shaking her head, made her way back to the thirteenth division.

Maybe if she dealt with other things she could get her mind off of everything for a while, she told herself.

But even she knew it was lie.


Days passed somehow. The most Toushiro saw of Rukia in that time was a single shared glance between passing crowds as she followed her captain on a sunny morning, a large stack of files in her arms. She had turned and seen him, he had glanced up as Matsumoto rambled about some magazine, and the both of them stopped dead in their tracks.

Hearts stopped.

The sea of people kept moving but always between the black and white he could find her easily. Her violet eyes were trained on his own aquamarine, and for a moment Toushiro thought that if he called to her she might respond.

His mouth started to open—

But then Ukitake called her, Rukia (blushing) turned, and time began to turn again.

He lost sight of her.

Matsumoto yanked him out of the way as two shinigami passed by, saving him from running into them and reprimanding him mid-sentence in her ramble before going right back into it.

Toushiro halfheartedly muttered an apology to her as they continued.

Maybe it was in that moment, shuffling between the crowds, that the captain came to the realization that nothing would be solved with him just thinking about everything—the kiss, her emotional turmoil, his role in it all. Locking gazes would not let her know that he felt bad for what he had done (even if he might not regret doing it again-though he wouldn't push for another chance either). That no matter what, his intention had not been to kiss her during a time where she had shown him the vulnerability of her heart.

He had meant everything he said—he had intended to stay by her side for as long as she would've needed because no matter what, she was still his companion. Maybe they had just started warming up to each other even after all the years in the same vicinity, but it was enough for him to help pull her from whatever wreckage she had gotten herself into this time.

They were shinigami, they had been through the same war, they had seen death.

And they had made it.

Now, having been thrown together, he had seen different parts of her and felt it wrong to just push her away as easily as he had done to others. There was something about her that just wouldn't leave him alone no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. So instead of fighting it, he was trying a different tactic this time—he would grudgingly embrace it, little by little. Maybe then he could finally get over everything and move on.

But doing so would require him to go outside his comfort zone and close the distance (if only a tiny bit) where Hitsugaya Toushiro replaced Hitsugaya-taichou in her eyes.

And that, in turn, required him to have the guts to talk to her again-willingly.

So for the rest of the day, Toushiro made it his goal to make time to talk to her. What he hadn't realized though, was that since it was already Wednesday they were hitting their peak work days and that the loads he would receive would be impossible to go through in one night unless he had assistance. On top of that, it didn't take a genius to note Matsumoto's state of well, not there-ness, and so he dismissed her early without much complaint or refusal from the vice-captain.

It seemed as if no matter where he turned, remorse was a feeling he was being acquainted with quite often as of late, but he couldn't really blame anyone but himself. He hadn't really taken much thought as to who his vice-captain had been dating recently, but seeing her in such condition made him feel more than a little guilt. Maybe he shouldn't have been so wrapped up and blinded by the situation and offered her something. Like, for starters, actually listening when she spoke of her boyfriend? (Or maybe one of those fruit basket things-she seemed to have a liking for those.) Usually he'd just tune her out whenever she'd go on one of her little rambles, and in doing so he'd probably missed something important like, oh, maybe his name? That might've put into perspective why she had taken it so hard.

But the damage was done, and the little he could do was take into consideration what he could do as of that moment. After Hyourinmaru unsuccessfully tried to once again insist on the fruit basket idea, Toushiro figured sending Matsumoto home would have to do for now.

Because hugs were not really his forte and those stupid baskets weren't exactly cheap.

And as for all the work that was currently streaming in by the armful. . . .

He had an idea.


It had been a very long day for the younger of the two Kuchiki siblings.

Between paper-pushing and other trivial matters, her patience became too taxed to really care for much other than a bed to collapse on. It wasn't much of a surprise then, to see the look of shock on her face as the substitute shinigami strolled into her division calmly, looking down his nose at her with a smirk.

"What's wrong midget, you forgot how to say hello?"

The reaction was immediate, her face screwing up into a scowl as she mercilessly hit the human boy's shin, listening with satisfaction as he howled in pain.

"Idiot." She muttered. "You should be the one to learn a proper greeting."

Before he could reply, Ukitake walked in and offered his greetings to the two, not even bothering to give a second glance to the young man rubbing at his shin while down on one knee.

"So are you ready, Kurosaki-san? You'll be expected over there soon." Rukia glanced between both of them, confusion bringing her brows down into a furrow as her lips thinned into a line.

"Yeah," Ichigo replied, his demeanor becoming more muted as he rose to full height, "I'm ready."

The way he said it made Rukia nervous. Her violet eyes fell on his form and she saw the worry etched in his furrowed brow as she shifted the weight from one leg to the other, suddenly anxious. "Where are you going?"

Quirking a brow, Ichigo didn't miss the second opportunity to jab at Rukia.

"Didn't Ukitake tell you?" The carrot top didn't even get a warning glare. The kick was swift and true to its' aim.

"Ukitake-taichou." She responded frigidly to the figure once again kneeling to nurse his leg. She ignored the string of muttered curses as Ukitake shifted, reminding them of his presence.

"I do believe I told you, Kuchiki-san." The captain muttered, face scrunching as he tried to remember, his back to them as he prepared himself some tea from the little pot on his desk. The petite shinigami turned bright red as she turned to her captain demurely, a complete change from the faces she had been making at the substitute shinigami beside her.

"I-I don't recall, sir, I'm sorry."

"That's okay." Ukitake replied, turning around once more as he blew on the steam coming from the cup in his hand. "It was just that Kurosaki-san was going to get checked by Unohana-san to see how he's doing."

Unohana. The last time he had seen her was three months ago, right after . . . everything.

Rukia swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in her throat, her face passive as she replied.

"Oh, I see."

Brown eyes studied her quietly for a moment.

"Would you like to accompany him?"

The way she saw it, Rukia knew that the mental torture of waiting would be there whether she went with Ichigo or not. But if she went, at the very least she would be there where he couldn't avoid any of her questions before his departure.

"Of course, sir."

"I don't need a midget to-OW!"

Without letting go of his ear, Rukia bowed to her captain and dragged the substitute shingami currently yelling curses in her direction out the door.


Ichigo's visit to the fourth division had taken longer than what they had anticipated, and every minute in there had been achingly long. It seemed like time had gone and abandoned Rukia as she and every other soul there watched in morbid fascination when three fourth division squad members carried in a heavily wounded shinigami.

She couldn't see much of the person except the arm that dripped blood onto the floor and a mangled uniform.

Idly, Rukia wondered how many times that had been her.

Her darkened musings were cut short as she felt a familiar reiatsu wash over her and she looked up, watching as Byakuya walked in and scanned the room silently. As soon as his eyes landed on the receptionist she all but tripped over herself, stuttering as she sweetly asked him if there was anything he needed.

Rukia watched the exchange, mildly amused.

"Has Kurosaki been seen?"

The young woman asked him to give her a minute as she began searching through the database on her computer. Try as she might, she couldn't seem to get Byakuya to focus on her flirtatious-bordering-obnoxious smouldering look, and so when she shifted to show off her small cleavage through the low fold of her shinigami robe, Rukia decided it was time to make her presence known.

"Nii-sama." Bowing deeply, Rukia looked up at her brother. "What are you doing here?"

The receptionist behind them didn't bother to hide her disappointment at losing her time with the famous noble. Nonetheless, she was painfully obvious in the appreciative once-over she gave the elder Kuchiki. Rukia threw a nasty glare at her. She may not be high-ranking, but hell could be raised nonetheless.

"Some matters came up."

Short, sweet, and to the point—all without really offering any legitimate information. That was so infuriatingly like him. Rukia wouldn't have him any other way, even if the small talk would have been a welcome distraction from her nerves. Though the dirty look from the receptionist seemed to be doing just fine at the moment.

Grasping at straws and the like she guessed.

"Ichigo is being looked at by Unohana-taichou right now. He's been in there a while though."

For a moment Byakuya's gaze lingered on his sister's, noting how thinly veiled the anxiety was in her large eyes. After all, it had been a while since the war and the knowledge of Ichigo's impending loss of all powers lingered in the back of everyone's mind until now, when it was pushed to the forefront brutally with his arrival. Granted, it was routine checkup, but Unohana hadn't called the boy in well over two months. To do so out of the blue meant she might know more than she let on.

But then again, what did they know?

Brow creased with worry, Rukia allowed the violet of her eyes to fall in fascination to the bright red droplets trailing to the deeper areas of the fourth division a few yards away.

Gods, wasn't someone going to clean that up?

"I see." The petite shinigami all but jumped at the sound of her brother's voice.

If Byakuya noticed he said nothing, instead making his way past her and towards the waiting area. The plastic chairs looked anything but comfortable, warped by the many differently shaped shinigami that had once sat there, pastel blue paint chipped in many places. For a moment Rukia thought it nearly comical then, when as only he knew how, the Kuchiki leader sat down on one.

The plastic squeaked its protest at the newly added weight.

Rukia could only look at him in confusion.

"I must speak to Unohana. Until then, I shall wait."

"Oh." For a moment she hesitated. But then finding no reason not to, Rukia skirted around the backs of the chairs to the one next to his, smoothing down the back of her uniform so she could sit without wrinkling it.

Her tiny feet were firmly on the floor, and a sigh behind them told her the receptionist had given up for the moment.

Rukia spent her time staring at the hands in her lap and then up at the passing people. Around them in other chairs sat other shinigami, some lost in their own desperation and others nodding off from the exhaustion of whatever anxiety they were trying to deal with. Violet eyes fell over them for a moment in empathy before moving on in fear she would be caught staring.

Neither Kuchiki really stirred—though the elder was the epitome of calm when compared with his sister, who fidgeted on occasions or picked at the frays of her uniform once she had grown bored of surveying her surroundings.

Byakuya didn't tell her she was foolish; he didn't try to pry her from her seat and send her back to her division.

He just. . . waited.

Rukia was eternally grateful. Maybe his reasons for being there were different, but the fact that he was there gave her strength she didn't think she could've mustered on her own. Had it not been for him, she figured, by the time Ichigo had come out she would've been a trembling mass of nerves.

Her thoughts would've continued wandering in circles had she not noticed her brother's gaze fix on someone over her head. Turning, she swallowed as Unohana began heading towards them , Ichigo walking behind her at such an angle that Rukia could not make out his expression until they had nearly reached the two waiting shinigami.

There was something so unnervingly calm and resigned about the boy that came in behind Unohana that it felt like a stone had been dropped into Rukia's stomach as she slowly rose from her chair. His eyes, usually the first thing to meet a person head on in a crowd were cast to the side, looking at the other shinigami in the room in an almost envious way.

What the hell could possibly be going in his head in that moment?

Ichigo's gaze slid over to the siblings soon and he stepped forward to flick Rukia on the forehead. The petite shinigami in turn, simply frowned up at him but offered nothing in rebuke, waiting to see if he would say anything at all as she gave a courteous bow to the captain of the fourth division.

Unohana smiled and nodded her greetings at her before turning to Byakuya with inquiry in her gaze.

Maddening, these people. Why did no one say anything to her?

"Kuchiki-taichou, good morning. What brings you to my ward today?" With a final glance in her direction, Byakuya stood from his chair and he led his fellow captain off, speaking of different matters altogether and with barely a regard towards Ichigo. For a moment he and Rukia stood watching the pair before the shorter of the two turned to her orange-haired companion.

"So what did Unohana-taichou say to you?"

A flicker of sadness darkened the human boy's amber gaze for a second, but it was quickly replaced by a forced grin.

"I'm fine. My body is healing up perfectly."

He wasn't exactly lying—but he wasn't telling her the full truth either.

That much Rukia knew without trying.

"That's good." She lied, offering a soft smile of her own.

"Yeah. Considering how much damage I took, she said I was healing really fast. But it's gonna have consequences."

Flinching, Rukia sighed. "I figured as much."

"Well, I knew it was coming so it's not that big of a deal. Come on," He said flippantly, "I haven't eaten anything since I left my house."

"Ok."

They walked out together. But even with him unfazed, it seemed, by whatever had occurred, Rukia knew better. If he was physically okay and nothing else was wrong there was only one reason Ichigo could be this silent.

His reiatsu—his time with them was almost out.


Ichigo went home that day and it took all of Rukia's willpower not to ask him anything about their trip to the fourth division. He needed the time to come to accept it (if it was what she thought) especially now that it was beginning to happen in full as opposed to him losing only small "drops" so to speak through his total lack of reiatsu control. But even though she wanted to confirm her worst fears, she bit her tongue and ate lunch with him as if nothing was wrong.

And far be it from her to violently prod for such fragile information.

Ukitake requested to be kept informed on the matter the very next day, and much to the chagrin of one head of medical wards, he got his way. It didn't take him long to fish out the information from Unohana after some "gentle" prodding (and some shameless flirting with the head nurse), mulling over the news during a meeting full of (to him) redundant protocol and information he had been presented in files that morning. The whole aspect seemed a blur to him as he searched through the captains that began to file out of the meeting hall to return to their own divisions, looking for the familiar flash of pink. Once he had found it, with a quick call and a wave, he flagged down his friend.

While he waited, Ukitake nodded his acknowledgement as the captain of the fourth division passed. Her smile, he noted, was a bit tight around the corners—oh well, she would get over it eventually, right?

Soon, he had led his best friend to the side courtyard of the first division where a walkway they frequented led deeper into the area. It was there that they had created many an influential idea for their respective divisions, chatted, and where once again, they walked without much thought-it had always been a rather isolated and abandoned place after all.

The white haired captain could barely wait to tell him what he knew, the need to share urgent if only to have a sounding board on the matter.

"His powers are starting to deteriorate faster than expected. Kurosaki has whittled down himself to literal days." He said, frowning sadly as they settled by the high walls of the building they had just left.

"Calm down." Shunsui warned, grinning lazily, "your condition could act up again and who knows if Unohana-san would be happy to see you in her ward today. . ."

Ukitake, grimacing, offered a weak laugh. "You're right. Still, I can't help but think about Kurosaki-san's dilemma. To think that everything he's done for us could've led to this. . ."

They heard the scrape of another set of sandals and looked up to the third approaching captain (a strange addition as of late) who humphed his lack of care for the topic as Shunsui nodded a greeting that went mostly ignored.

"So what? Stupidity breeds consequences." Mayuri jumped in, offering the statement as if he had been there from the beginning. "Let it burn out so that he may finally live as he was supposed to from the beginning—an idiot human. Though it is a bit regrettable to let such a prime specimen go to waste. . . "

Ukitake Jyuushiro and Kyourako Shunsui shared a look before turning back to their fellow captain.

"Of course we agree that he should be left alone. Especially after what he's done for us." Ukitake began. "But to suddenly cut ties. . . I don't think Yamamoto understands how badly it would hurt Kurosaki-san."

His brown eyes once again fell to the strangely painted captain of the twelfth before him.

"His usefulness has been expended. That's all there is to it." Mayuri said, turning unexpectedly to leave. The other two watched him, one shrugging, the other concerned.

"I know Yamamoto wants to make this as clean a cut as possible for everyone. . . but still. I don't think it's right."

"Then, old friend," Shunsui shrugged, lowered his hat before pushing off of the building wall, "do something about it."

It didn't take much more convincing for Ukitake to take up arms in the matter. Taking his friend's words to heart, Jyuushiro Ukitake began to think of how to do just that as he walked back to his own division alone and in thought.

At first, he wasn't sure exactly how to go about with the delicate process. He thought maybe bringing Ichigo to Soul Society and throwing him a party was a bit much and too strenuous on everyone's schedule given the circumstances. Then he wondered if maybe sending some device, or a form of communication to the boy would help him feel better—to allow him still to keep in touch.

But would that make him feel helpless? Would it rub salt in the fresh wound? Losing his powers after all, was no small change. If anything he would feel left behind since after complete loss of his powers, he would not be able to see anything having to do with the world of the dead.

"Oh, Ukitake-taichou, there you are! I have some things that need your approval. Would you mind-"

And then it hit him.

"—signing these?"

He looked from the papers to the petite shinigami holding them.

"Ukitake-taichou?"


The secretary knocked, waiting as the white haired youth ran a tired hand over his face before finally calling her in.

"What did he say?"

Bowing, the young woman pushed up her glasses.

"Ukitake-taichou apologizes, but he cannot spare Ms. Kuchiki to assist you today."

Raising a brow, the captain wasn't sure whether to be surprised or not by the reply from his fellow captain. Though usually asking for help from him was never turned down, should it strike him as odd during that time of the week?

He sighed.

"Very well. Can he send her tomorrow?"

The secretary shook her head.

"Ms. Kuchiki will be occupied. She will be on leave for a mission soon. He said that should you require assistance, he could see if he could send someone else for you."

No. He didn't want anyone else. And though he was dying to inquire about her mission, he swallowed it down.

"No it's fine. You're dismissed."

Bowing, the young woman left silently.

A mission starting soon? Hollow sightings had gone down dramatically after Aizen's defeat, so he knew that the people they had stationed there now were enough. There was no way it was a mission to the human world. Unless it was something to the caliber they had taken before—but he hadn't heard of anyone of lieutenant or captain rank pulled out to take on an assignment.

Hueco Mundo, maybe? No, they hadn't organized themselves enough to take care of their own world let alone the hell nest that was that forsaken place—Ashido was testament to that.

Something in-world then? That was the most plausible, but there was no way of knowing unless he snooped—which of course he wasn't going to do.

Things between them could wait. It wasn't necessarily a life or death matter, so he could wait to talk to her until she returned, right? Rukia had plenty on her mind to be adding stresses by trying to get a hold of her.

Yeah.

He'd wait.

And maybe in that time, he could fit in some work and a little bit of a nap.


"Go to the world of the living? Why? We haven't had a hollow siting worth our attention since Ishida, Chado, and Inoue took over patrolling the area."

Ukitake looked at the young woman with a sad smile.

"I petitioned for it. I figured it would be good for you to be there for Ichigo in the following week or so, since it will be a very significant time for him."

Immediately Rukia's continence changed, her brow furrowing as she lowered her narrowed gaze to her captain's desk. The very world seemed to fall upon her frail shoulders, her figure tiny in the light of the sun from his open window. The same grim emptiness, the feeling of despair he had come to know in the children of Rukongai became evident then on her softened features.

"It's happening. . . isn't it?"

Good—he didn't need to tell her. But gods, did it ever hurt to be the one to see her off like this. He was grateful that she had spared him the delicacy of the subject through her own direct nature, but having seen to her well-being since the moment she had stepped into his division made his own lips turn into a thin pursed line.

He sighed, trying and failing to find a way to put things as easily as possible.

"He's. . . at the most he has a week." Her head snapped up and Rukia could do little but look at her captain wide-eyed. "He's been having black outs more frequently now that he's down to the last of it. You were there for him when he got his powers. I figured it would be appropriate for you to be there when. . ."

Saying it was a lot harder than he thought, but Rukia saved him from having to do so once more. Raising a hand, she cut him off.

"I understand." She finished in a tired voice, forcing herself to smile at him reassuringly. "Thank you, sir."

All he could do was nod as she bowed to him.


Ok so he kind of lied.

He only lasted one fully resolute day.

On the second day before he could think it over any more, Toushiro somehow went from firmly not asking to sort of wanting to know to having to know. He reasoned it was due to his horrible little bout of self-induced insomnia as of late, but he'd be damned if he didn't deal with it head on.

He was going to get some rest tonight or someone was going to suffer tomorrow—well, besides him.

Things were not going as planned though. It was excruciatingly hard not arousing suspicion about his inquiry of Rukia's mission no matter where he turned because well, it wasn't like they had ever really been close. The plan was to talk to her before she left, but so far that would be impossible if all he knew was from Renji claiming it to be "sometime in the next two days."

Which had been accompanied by a shrug.

Idiot.

The white haired youth had tried pulling the information out of the acting third seats of thirteenth division as well, but they too seemed to know as much as her so called best friend had.

So he began walking back.

He would've kept on his trail weaving through passing shinigami had he not spotted his lieutenant speaking animatedly to someone in the crowds. She laughed at something and when her gaze strayed to the people passing by, baby blue eyes fell on her captain' s familiar tufts of white hair. Immediately she saw a chance in baiting him and didn't hesitate to make her presence known.

She figured that messing with him was as good as it was going to get in terms of cheering herself up—though this was after a few bottles had been downed. At least just enough to keep her walking a straight line back to her office, where she would've pestered the daylights out of HItsugaya and he either let her go home, or he let her go home (again).

Of course the faster way would be in the use of one adorable little Kuchiki. And though bumping into Ashido hadn't exactly been a part of the scheme, Matsumoto tended to roll with it anyways.

Especially when a chance was practically thrown in her face-what with him having insider information on the girl and all (because living under the same roof had to offer her something in terms of juicy information).

Besides, seeing her captain squirm had always been a surefire way to cheer herself up.

One arm rose high to wave him over as she called with no regards to how loud she was being, not noticing how much attention she had attracted to herself—err, well her chest anyways, if some of the passing bulging eyes were any indication.

For a second Toushiro seemed to be considered turning around and heading the longer way back when the crowd parted slightly and he caught sight of who she was talking to, and someone help him because the scowl was automatically darkening his features.

Ashido's face was unnervingly expressionless when their eyes met.

Until Toushiro had the taller man nearly in front of him, he hadn't noticed how far he'd even moved.

"Ashido-san was telling me Kuchiki-san is leaving on a mission tomorrow."

Toushiro tried (and probably failed) to hide his surprise at hearing the news. It broke him out of his initial hostility towards his companion, but pride helped him reign in the look of shock from before. The cerulean of his gaze rose to meet Ashido's slate grey once more as he cleared his throat to appear nonplussed.

Check and mate. Score one for the (recovering) matchmaker extraordinaire.

"That's good. We need as many shinigami active as we can."

"Her brother isn't too happy on the assignment though, is he?" Matsumoto continued nonchalantly, turning to Ashido as well to avoid smirking.

The mild amusement on the redhead's face was something it seemed, he wasn't trying to hide at all.

"He is. . . rather unnerved on the subject."

"It was something assigned by Ukitake-taichou though. No matter what he feels, he can't overstep the authority of Kuchiki-san's captain just because he doesn't approve of where she's going."

Ask it! Matsumoto wanted to scream, Ask it!

"Why," Toushiro asked, brow furrowing at the strange turn of the conversation, "where is she going?"

"To Kurosaki's house." Matusmoto said then, feigning ignorance to the way her captain's features suddenly darkened. "Ukitake-taichou won't really say what's so urgent, but word on the street is that Kurosaki visited the fourth division for the first time since. . . a while." She finished hesitantly. "I think it might have to do with that."

His mind started racing.

"How long is she going to be gone?" He asked before he could stop himself.

"About a week or so."

"That seems like a lot of time to be gone, no?"

Matsumot raised a brow. "If Ichigo's about to lose his powers like everyone thinks, then that really isn't that long at all."

This time he didn't bother to hide his shock.

"He must've been pretty active for him to lose everything so fast."

"Well, what could we expect from someone like him?"

"Yeah." Toushiro replied, brow furrowing in thought. "You're right. Still, the fool could've at least tried to show some restraint."

Rangiku shrugged.

"Well, on that happy note," Ashido suddenly interjected, looking over the captain's head and ignoring the death glare he got for it, "I must go. Kuchiki-taichou would not be pleased if he sees that I'm speaking of this so openly."

Both leaders of the tenth division followed his glance but found not a single trace of the aforementioned captain. Raising a brow, Rangiku made to ask him what he had seen before the redhead excused himself politely, slipping past them easily and following it seemed, after someone .

"I wonder who he saw that he had to leave in such a hurry."

Frowning disapprovingly, Toushiro turned to his distracted lieutenant.

"I don't know. Maybe he saw Kuchiki or something."

"Eh, true."

"Either way, I know a place where you should be hurrying to." He said, daring her to try and escape with a hardened glare.

Matsumoto only whined.


Two days.

For two days Ashido had been following the young man ahead of him, watching him casually from a distance and making sure to stay hidden in the masses of shinigami passing. Had it not been for Matsumoto distracting him momentarily he wouldn't have been forced to catch up in such a rushed manner, nearly bumping into the man himself. Luckily things were avoided quite deftly when Ashido ducked into a nearby shop.

Norio Atsushi.

He was at a decent age, probably only about ten years younger than Rukia, with a sturdy frame and features smooth from the care of nobility. According to Byakuya, this target came from a stable family known for its merging of the Takenaga and Atsushi clans. He looked to be of good pedigree, acting both mature for his age and quite educated in all sorts of different subjects. His sword handling was mediocre, but that was to be expected with his lack of experience—it was only his sixth year as a shinigami. This could be dealt with.

Which left only one real problem—he was a total pushover.

He tended to be around a rowdy bunch which the proud Kuchiki elder would not approve of for sure. As if that wasn't enough of a strike against him, the very fact he seemed to lack a spine even as an eighth seat of the ninth division- certainly this threw him out as a possible candidate.

For goodness sakes, the guy's friends didn't even listen to him.

Rukia certainly couldn't have a potential husband like that!

She would eat him for breakfast.

So that meant the tally was now three potential suitors down. The other two—well, they didn't even last half a day. In fact, Byakuya didn't even let Ashido finish his report after the first three sentences. Both young men had been unseated officers (strike one), drunkards (strike two), and for the finishing touch, complete flirts.

And that was after just the first day of observation.

At first, Ashido didn't question what he had been doing for the noble. Even though he had been gone for many years, removed from the heart of society, he recognized the Kuchiki name well enough to know that any association with him would lead to good things. He had never gotten the privilege of meeting any of them until Rukia arrived in Hueco Mundo, but doing so had been a great blessing that was still providing him many open doors—including being welcomed back as a hero.

Using that to his advantage, he made sure his friends' names were carried on with great honor as well. A small memorial service would be held in their name sometime in the near future, and there was even the beginnings of a discussion as to whether to try and recover the memorabilia left in the wake of their loss.

But other than that, Ashido hadn't really asked for anything from the captain of the sixth or Sereitei as a whole, for that matter. Questioning the nobleman's motives hadn't exactly been on his priority list until after the first young man's picture had been given to him and he had been asked (in complete privacy) if he would be willing to take on the task of following him not as a shinigami, but as an assistant to the Kuchiki clan.

If he refused it wasn't like he had anything to lose—but the intrigue as to what was going on kept Ashido silent and willing.

He had spoken to Rukia a fair amount since he began living under the same roof. They were small conversations, mostly trivial matters really, but it was enough for him to deduce that she knew absolutely nothing about what Byakuya was planning—which put him in a tough bind.

Should he tell her?

At first he had figured she had other matters on her mind. But then as the dust of the mission had settled down and all involved fully healed, it seemed to be as if the matter didn't even exist in her mind.

And now. . .

After a bit of hesitance, he pulled out the pen from his pocket (a strange device it was, but useful nonetheless) and a neatly folded picture of the young man, scrawling a clear line diagonally over it.

Rejected.

Now all he had to do was sneak the picture onto Byakuya's desk, wait until he was called in to report, and the next set of candidates was given to him.

As for Rukia, he would have to think about it for a while before he came to a decision—it was just too delicate of a matter to take lightly. Plus his head might be on the line—and goodness knows he wouldn't risk that again without a damn good reason.


It was none of his business.

It was totally none of his business.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't know someone was here." The white haired youth swiveled on his heel to see Rukia bowing to him, arms cradling a bin full of miscellaneous office things.

She was not going to be embarrassed. She would not think about the kiss. She was not going to be embarrassed. Not the kiss! She was so not going to be embarrassed!

"If you're looking for Ukitake-tai-"

"I was looking for you."

Violet eyes widened considerably for a moment as she blushed.

Too late, Rukia thought, I'm embarrassed.

"What. . ." She began hesitantly, looking away, "what can I do for you, Hitsugaya-san?"

Well. . . shit. She could start by telling him how the hell he had gotten there in the first place. This hadn't been part of the plan—in fact there had been no plan. He had just sort of derailed mid-errand after leaving Matsumoto complaining in the office. Truth be told, he couldn't even remember what errand had prompted him out to begin with. Thoughts of what he wanted to do and what was going to happen were drowning out any chance of logical thought or productive activity.

Scrutinizing the shelves beside him as if he had never known they existed before, the prodigy cleared his throat nervously.

Well, no turning back now. The chance was here, he might as well take it.

"I just wanted to-"

"Shiro-chan!" Both turned to the entering captain who lit up at the sight of Toushiro. The prodigy couldn't help but frown. "What brings you to our division? Did you change your mind and require someone? Sorry, I just couldn't spare Ku-"

"No, it's fine, Ukitake." Sparing a quick glance at Rukia, he couldn't tell if she had caught what her captain was about to say—her expression was infuriatingly neutral. "I just came to take care of something."

There was no way she could doubt that what he was saying was more meant as a message to her. The deep cerulean of his gaze locked onto hers for a long moment and then turned back to his fellow white haired captain before he could see any sort of emotion pass through her features.

"Ok. Let me know if you need anything. You know we're always happy to help."

"Yeah. Well, I'm going to head back."

"Here, before you go." Before he could protest, Ukitake pulled a handful of candy from a hidden pocket in his haori, taking Toushiro's hand and placing them in his grasp. Toushiro, too tired from his failed attempt to speak to Rukia, simply gave a deadpanned look lost on the cheery captain of the thirteenth.

Smiling obliviously, Ukitake shuffled past him and deeper into his office.

"Kuchiki-san, would you see him to the main door?"

Her eyes met his for a moment before she called her consent, setting down the bin of things on the nearest chair. Turning back, Rukia shouldered awkwardly past him. Her footsteps slowed to put her just beyond him as they entered the cramped main hallway.

"So," she began, not looking back, "what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

Looking down, he noted her hand tugging lightly at her uniform.

Before he could think his hand shot out and grabbed her arm. He could feel the tensing of her body as Rukia froze, unable to hide her surprise.

He stopped with her mid hall, their eyes locked together for a second.

There's no chance here. I can't get my hopes up. He has Hinamori-fukutaichou, Rukia tried to remind herself. Why would he ever want me?

"Hitsugaya-san. . .?" His fingers, though loosening, did not release their hold completely.

"There's no need to be nervous. I'm not . . . here to say anything bad."

They both looked up as an intern cleared her throat, offering a muttered apology as she awkwardly stepped between them, forcing Toushiro to let go of Rukia.

"So then what is it?"

"This isn't the place to talk. Can you spare me a moment sometime?"

"I'm being sent on a mission to-"

"-the living world. I know."

Her brows nearly hit her hair line. "How. . . ?"

"Need to know basis." A strange look, but otherwise Rukia didn't offer a remark.

"So? It won't be much time."

"And you can't just tell me here?"

"I'm sure your brother couldn't possibly all of a sudden stop by and-"

"Understood." She replied, paling at the thought. Her fingers once again began fiddling with a loose thread in her uniform as she began walking. Toushiro followed, arms crossing as he sighed through his nose.

"Tomorrow at dawn—that's when I leave." She whispered to him. Reaching the main lobby, the petite shinigami nodded to the receptionist before heading over to the main doors and sliding them open for the captain.

Quirking a brow, she turned to him in a business-like manner.

"Shall I pencil you into the schedule, sir?"

Regarding her for a moment, cerulean eyes locked onto hers and his head tilted slightly to one side. Finally, sighing, he nodded.

"Please do."

She smiled. "Yes, sir."

He began stepping out but then hesitated, surprising her again when he took her hand and cupped it in his, placing something into her palm.

"And take care of these while you're at it." He whispered hurriedly, glancing back to make sure Ukitake had not seen him. Raising a brow, Rukia couldn't hide the tug of her lips into a smile again.

"Consider it done."

As he walked away, he heard the wrapper of the first chocolate crinkling in protest.