A/N: HOLY TARDIS OF GALLIFREY, SHE IS ALIVE! Sorta kinda.

Maybe.

Dedicated to everyone and anyone who actually still stuck around by nothing short of a miracle. Any questions or anything, or wanna chat (or just generally harass me about my horrible horrible ways), drop me a message! Also, no beta, so please let me know if anything is amiss. Not as long as I would've liked, but I didn't wanna sit on this any longer. Especially now with NaNoWriMo.

HAPPY NANOWRIMO!


Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix

(My heart opens itself to your voice)


(But I Assure You) My Debts Are Real III


Oh Kami, he was here.

He was here!

Honestly, Rukia didn't expect him to come—in fact, she had convinced herself somehow on the way to the main gates that it had all been in her imagination. She had gotten so good at it that it seemed like she had just been having breakfast with Ashido and her brother and then in the blink of an eye, she had gotten to the area and things could go on as normal.

It would've been amazingly convincing in fact, had it not been for the sound of sandals scraping against the worn streets of Sereitei.

Her throat went dry at the sound.

The sun was up, the shadows of dawn fading across the figure that made its way over. Looking towards it, her heart stopped and Rukia stood frozen to the spot, unable even, to swallow as she recognized the mop of white hair.

What was he going to say?

Her heart was racing.

What the hell was he going to say?

It was the question that had kept her up all night, tossing and turning and unable to close her eyes for more than a handful of minutes at a time. She had raced through so many possibilities that she had confused herself into a dazed stupor from which she was shaken only by the sound of Ashido's voice at her door in the morning.

And now she was here.

Teal eyes fell slowly on hers as the tenth division captain stopped. She, in turn, gave him a perfunctory bow of welcome. The smile that accompanied was hesitant, but enough to make the captain hesitate and nod a good morning to her as well.

If he noted her anxiety, or the tired look about her, Toushiro didn't say anything.

"Hitsugaya-san." She began, hands clasped together in front of her to keep from fidgeting. Her face fell into a neutrality she painstakingly constructed around frayed nerves. Her voice, what little she could force out, seemed strained even to her ears. "What is it you needed to see me for?"

For a moment silence fell between them as he stopped a safe distance away from her. The light of his sharp gaze was locked completely on her and there was a strange intensity that Rukia could feel weighing down on her, sending a shiver down her spine. More than anything, the petite shinigami felt, the ice was felt through the pierce of his gaze alone. White brow furrowed and posture rigid, the aura about him did little to ease her even the tiniest of bits.

His mouth seemed to slightly open as if to say something before he closed it into a thin line.

Rukia couldn't help it—her eyes followed the movement of his lips and she found herself back in thoughts of their kiss. Looking away, she hoped he didn't see the furious blush on her face as she tried in vain to get rid of the images (and sensations) passing through her mind.

"I. . ."

She didn't turn at the sound of his voice.

At first the captain swallowed his words back thickly, noting her reaction. This whole talking and communication bit wasn't his thing—that was all Matsumoto for a reason. He had been called many things before, among them blunt and downright obstinate. But standing there now, Toushiro hoped for some strange reason that she wouldn't mark his actions (the words said) off under either of those categories—he had put more thought into this one moment than he usually would've to be shrugged off so easily.

But whether such colossal effort was due to his pride as someone of honorable character or simply because of that weird whatever it was she did to him, he wasn't sure.

Either way—he needed to say it. In the end that was what finally forced the words out of his mouth.

"I'm sorry, Rukia. I acted out of line by kissing you when all you needed was someone to speak to."

The captain was too determined to finish to note the slight widening of violet eyes.

"I meant no offense—I really did want to help you in any way that I could that day. I just. . ."

The steam that he had built up suddenly died. What was he supposed to say now? He had done what he had come for and now he was floundering in the silence that followed. He couldn't finish the thought he had started either—that was something even he wasn't sure of at this point. He just what? Wanted to try it? Even he was aware there was something more to it than that but it couldn't continue.

Rukia seemed too shocked to say anything for a moment, frozen even as she tried to mull over it all.

I saw this coming. I knew this was coming. It was all just a mistake.

"It was just an impulse, then." Her voice sounded strange when she finally chose to speak. One of the hands that had been clasped in front of her now reached up and readjusted her small pack, staying on the strap. She seemed to almost visibly shrink against it, using it as a lifeline.

The white haired youth seemed to weight something in his mind before he answered with a nod.

"Yes."

Her face was emotionless for a moment. If possible, even terrifyingly so. Toushiro tried in vain to read through it, studying the way her brows seemed to draw in for a moment as if she was internally fighting herself on something before violet eyes rose to his and it all suddenly died.

Whatever it was, her mind was made. The small smile that took over her face seemed to send a stab of frigidness through him, a sense of finality of some sort washing over him. It gave him goosebumps to see how fast she could switch things on and off like that—impenetrably and gracefully in a way that would make her brother proud.

"I see." Her eyes glittered like diamonds—hard and untouchable. "Well, thank you for your kind words, Hitsugaya-taichou. I appreciate everything you've done for me regardless of what happened."

A knee-jerk reaction to stop her took over him for a second and he fought it as he watched her swivel on a heel after offering him a final, curt goodbye. Her grip on Sode no Shirayuki was tight, as was the thin line of his grimly pressed lips.

She didn't bow to him respectfully—he didn't reprimand her.

"Thank you for seeing me off, sir."

He stood there, confused as he watched her turn away from him and open the gate. The breeze from the difference in pressures blasted past her, raising with it the hems of her sleeves to look like black wings. He watched, the overwhelming sense of dread driving his steps as he suddenly ran after her. If he could just clarify things, maybe-

"Rukia, wait!"

She didn't turn at his call.

It was too late, swallowed by the sound of the gates closing.

As his hand dropped to his side, somewhere in the back of his mind the captain wondered why it felt as if he had just made a big mistake.

Maybe, Hyourinmaru's voice echoed in his mind, Because you did.


Rukia ran.

Her feet hardly touched the ground, breaths ragged as she took the long path towards the opening of the living world. The musty, dank atmosphere that usually made her feel suffocated was barely noted, left behind in blurs of misshapen walls and jutting pieces of what once might've been living creatures that had strayed into the void.

I'm a fool.

The words echoed in her head as she continued, barely noting how the light ahead was steadily growing stronger. Her mind was left behind with the captain, mixing with a surge of emotions she couldn't control all of a sudden.

Why was she angry? He owed her nothing! There shouldn't be anything to be angry about! He had been the perfect gentleman about everything and here she was, reading too much into it and expecting who knows what, and gods, she couldn't cry!

She wouldn't cry!

And besides, why did she feel so hurt?

He hadn't promised her anything. Never had he said that there were more feelings than that of a captain to a subordina—friend! A friend. Never had there been a moment where she could safely say there was caring in a way he would never show to anyone else.

And that's what probably stung the worse.

Sure, she couldn't argue with that, but his eyes had practically told a completely different story—his posture, his voice—it all seemed so genuine and unique only to her presence that maybe she had just allowed herself to be blinded-

Idiot.

The gates opened and suddenly she was there, the river sparkling in the morning sun in the distance, grass soft under her sandal-clad feet as the light fell in rays that pierced the darkness closing behind her. There was a light breeze that ruffled her hair as she turned and was met with a muted smile from Orihime a few yards away. The two young men behind her simply nodded their welcome, all of them in regular clothes.

Sunday—she figured, trying to get her bearings on the difference in times. It was like spinning in place and then suddenly being jerked to a complete stop, eyes squinted in the light and mind dazed at the change of pace.

All the anger, frustration and hurt didn't fade—it would be there, confusingly so, probably hidden somewhere in the back of her mind as was her custom with such things. But she was a fighter—always had been. And right now, there was someone who needed her.

"How is he?" She asked, searching for some telltale sign of bad news. Her voice was thick, laced with concern, but also a finer sheen of her earlier confusion and frustration.

Let them interpret that as they would.

"He's okay for now. He faints more often and for longer amounts of time, but he's been eating fine—we've made sure of that." Ishida answered as they began to walk.

"What does Urahara say? Are there any other symptoms we should be expecting?"

"Just the fainting spells getting worse as his body tries to fight it. Nothing permanent though."

They began to walk, Ishida leading them as he filled in the petite shinigami on everything that had happened since Ichigo's last visit to the fourth division.

"You were right." The Quincy said, pushing up his glasses. "By the time we realized how much power he had really lost, he'd almost gotten himself killed fighting a Hollow."

Rukia's mouth pressed into a thin, angry line.

Ichigo would hear from her, she'd make sure of it.

Stubborn fool.

"Is he awake?"

"He was when we left." Orihime piped in as they reached the gate of the Kurosaki household. They all silently looked up at the house, a melancholy silence shrouding them as Rukia swallowed and pushed the front gate open.

Once inside, to Rukia's mild surprise, it was Yoruichi who greeted them in front of his bedroom door. Her tail was moving back and forth across the carpet as she eyed them all in turn, offering only a simple nod as welcome.

The twins and their father had gone out earlier that day and had yet to return, the cat explained briefly. Though the siblings knew very little about what was going on, their father thought it best to simply let Ichigo deal with things in privacy. In the meantime, it had been Urahara's crew that had taken over the task of keeping him stable throughout the whole ordeal.

"He fainted again." Yoruichi stated simply.

Or at least as stable as they could, anyways.

"Can I see him?"

The black cat nodded before calling out to Ururu, who opened the door slightly at the beckon. Her wide, watery eyes slid from one person to another before going down to the cat.

"Let Kuchiki into the room and come help Orihime with some things downstairs." She nodded before fully opening the door, letting Rukia in and slipping out like a ghost. If the others had any qualms with the petite shinigami being alone with Ichigo, they voiced nothing and instead followed the two females downstairs.

Rukia didn't hear the lock click shut.

Her eyes were glued to the prone figure on the bed as the reality of the situation hit her all at once.

If she hadn't known any better, she would've thought the young man was simply sleeping. His breathing was peaceful but his brow, as usual, was scrunched with worries even as his eyes moved rapidly behind closed lids. He didn't have the telltale sign of having been asleep for long, bright orange hair spiking in every direction and clothes unwrinkled.

What could he possibly be dreaming?

His hand twitched and violet eyes followed the movement, easily enough almost placing the large meat-cleaver of a sword into the gap his curled fingers and palm made in her mind's eye. There, between the callouses and scars.

Why hadn't he told her?

There was a surge of anger, bitter and acidic in her thoughts, burning through her heart and limbs as she stood there before him, eyes glittering dangerously. With tears, with resentment, she wasn't even sure all of a sudden as the upwelling of emotion threatened to spill over.

"I meant no offense—I really did want to help you in any way that I could that day. I just. . ."

Did she really look so weak? Was she really such a pushover that everyone saw her as a damsel in distress even when she wasn't dying? What did she have to do to prove to everyone that she didn't need to be rescued constantly?

"Fool." She grit out indignantly. "I can't believe you wanted to hide something so big from me. And yeah," She continued, glaring at his unconscious body, "I knew. I'm not stupid."

It hurt—everything did.

"Did you think I would be better off not knowing, and then coming to find out one day that you can't see me anymore? That you wouldn't be able to hear when I scream that you're an idiot and a stupidhead and that you. . ."

Swallowing thickly, Rukia jerked her gaze away from the bed, eyes landing on the desk instead. Her arms wrapped around her middle and she stayed like that for what seemed like forever, fighting the sudden lump in her throat with fervent stubbornness alone.

What would he say if he could hear?

"You were too thick to give us a chance—and I was too scared."

The room felt cold. There was a void there, the lack of the familiar suffocating feel of his reiatsu barely a flickering, waning light in her mind.

"Idiot! Tone your reiatsu down! You're going to kill me!"

She wanted to ask him so many questions, so many things that had always crossed her mind but never her lips, things that maybe would have made a difference if she hadn't made that speech in Hueco Mundo about separating and having faith in those around you, about wanting to have faith in herself when no one else did but them, and how she owed everything to him.

How she loved him.

She would never know now—this was it. The last thread holding them together would be gone, and everything would fall back into what it used to be.

No more staying in his closet, trying new human foods, going to school.

Chatting with his sisters or walking along the lake would be only a daydream. She wouldn't be able to smack him upside the head when he was an idiot or yell at him to move over when he took up practically the whole couch. No more training sessions or shoving his clothes out of the closet to make more room for herself.

All of it—gone.

Rukia opened her mouth to speak then and found she couldn't. At first she thought it was mostly because it was stupid to be talking to someone while they were unconscious, but when she thought about it, really thought about it, she realized that it was useless.

No matter what she said, no matter how many times she screamed, cried, or pleaded, nothing would come of it.

He wouldn't answer.

"You're an idiot, Ichigo." She whispered, finally looking back up at him through a tear-filled gaze. "An idiot."

In the end, that was what made the first tear fall.


"So you just. . . let her go?"

She was being infuriating, he was confused, and frankly, everything was getting nowhere. Throwing down the paper he had been trying to read, Toushiro sighed heavily before running a hand through thick white locks.

"Would you defy orders?" He rebuked bitterly.

Surprised at actually being acknowledged, his vice-captain sat up a little straighter at her desk, noting his grimace.

"You didn't tell her anything?"

Aquamarine orbs flashed in annoyance as they turned from the writing to her.

"I told her what I needed to tell her, that was all." Matsumoto scrunched her brow in question.

"Which was . . .?"

"None of your concern."

"You screwed up, didn't you." She said, not sure whether to show concern or the amusement she felt. Instead she wisely stayed silent, bright blue eyes capturing the baited breathe, the locked jaw of her captain.

"It's none of your business, Matsumoto." Her captain warned in a slightly louder voice. The room was still the same temperature though, so she figured taking her chances a little longer wouldn't hurt too much.

"What did you do?"

"Matsumoto, nothing, ok? Shut up and go back to your-"

"You really messed up, didn't you?" Her eyes nearly bugged out as she leaned forward in her chair. If the desks hadn't been between them, Toushiro knew that she would've been towering over him by now to make him talk.

"I didn't mess up!"

"Did you tell her she was fat or something?"

"No!"

"You told her she was ugly?!" She practically yelled.

"NO!"

The temperature was beginning to drop.

"Then how the hell did you-"

His hands slammed down on the desk as he stood, clearly enraged by her prodding.

"I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! I JUST TOLD HER THAT I WAS SORRY FOR KISSING HER!"

And before she could pull anything else out of him, Toushiro stormed out of the office.


Four days.

It had been four days since Ichigo had fallen unconscious. He seemed to move back and forth between levels of sleep, sometimes twitching as if he was dreaming, and at other times lying as still as if he was just a human-sized doll.

Only his breathing would give him away.

Through it all, Rukia had remained by his side. While the others came and went, only she pretty much stayed in the room. Orihime had brought her several manga, and the petite shinigami had found it rather calming to try and take the books as inspiration for her own art. Currently, the floor was littered with her different colored markers, pencils, and books.

Absentmindedly, she took the orange marker and began to color the rabbit's wild, spiky hair.

"That looks nothing like me."

She stiffened at the voice, marker bleeding into the paper for a moment before she noticed, frowned, and calmly picked the marker off of the paper to cap it. She could feel Ichigo's eyes on her as she began to neatly stack her things on the floor. And if she knew him half as well as she knew she did, she could practically see the eyebrow raised in her direction.

"The hell's wrong with you, midg-"

"IDIOT!" The marker was out of her hand before he could dodge, leaving the young man with a perfect imprint of it on his forehead. The yell of indignation didn't quite come out sounding like he was yelling at her at all, but instead turned into a cry of pain when she flash stepped up to him and mercilessly grabbed his ear.

"Did you think I didn't know, you bastard? Did you think I was stupid enough not to notice?" At the last word she tugged harder, ignorant of the string of curses that might've under other circumstances impressed her.

"You jerk." It wasn't that her grip had loosened on his ear. What stopped Ichigo's tirade and ultimately made his eyes rise softly to her lowered gaze was the waver in her angered voice. "Just because you save the world, it doesn't make you need your friends any less."

Her fingers fell from his ear. Scooping up the marker that she had chucked at him, Rukia dropped it near her other things and stormed out the door, the substitute shinigami's eyes leaving her small form only when the door of his room slammed shut behind her.


He went through the rest of his day after seeing Rukia off, though to be honest, he remembered nothing of it past the moment she turned her back on him. The week was halfway over and yet he could not, for the life of him, find it in him to think of anything else.

"You have to talk to her again."

A scowl.

"Don't you have work to do?" Was the annoyed reply from the white haired youth as he allowed his head to fall back against the trunk of the tree. Arms, crossed, he didn't even make an effort to hide his discontented frown.

Matsumoto smirked. "I'm doing my work right now."

"You're bothering me." Was the deadpan reply.

"I'm helping you."

"I asked for no such thing."

"You told me about it without me having to pull it out of you. That was a cry for help."

"That was me venting stupidly." Toushiro grunted, eyes still closed and head leaned back against the tree. "I don't need your help."

There was silence for a bit, and the white haired captain dreamed that, if only for a second, his subordinate had decided to finally leave. The tension had even started leaving his shoulders-

"You want to know where you made a mistake?"

-and it was back.

"You said you were sorry."

Opening teal eyes for the first time since their conversation had started, he finally turned to acknowledge the busty blonde standing at the edge of tangled roots. Maybe if he stayed here she would be deterred by the work it would require to navigate them to try and reach him.

"I don't see how it's a mistake. I was being sincere. It wasn't my intention to do it."

He didn't budge from his seat as his vice-captain huffed and shook her head at him.

"You don't get it, do you? You insulted her!" Brow furrowing as he frowned, Toushiro didn't try to hide the 'you're crazy' look.

"How the hell do you get from what I said that I insulted her?" Was the suddenly interested retort as he warily got up from his seat, flabbergasted by his lieutenant's reasoning.

Was this woman mad?

"Ok, ok, look—hear me out." She replied, trying to keep her captain from completely shutting her out before she could get her point through. "Let's say you told her about something personal, yes?"

She looked at him expectantly, ignoring the deadpan look. "Yes?" She insisted.

A sigh.

"Yes." He tried to goad her into getting on with her point.

"Okay, so now let's say while you're talking, one thing leads to another, the mood music plays, the moon is perfectly set-"

"Matsumoto! Point! NOW!"

"She kisses you."

"Matsumoto this is preposterous, Rukia would never-"

"Can you humor me for one second here and just go along with it?" Was the annoyed reply.

He went silent for a moment, eyes set on her own expectantly.

"Fine. Okay, she kisses me." He replied, trying not to dwell on the idea or the fact that he wouldn't mind such an action.

"So you go home with that feeling and you start questioning what those butterflies in your stomach are. You're excited about it." His look was still skeptical as she continued. "But then she sees you a few days later and tells you, you know what? I take it back, I didn't mean it that way."

"Okay."

Her brows shot up at his nonchalant reply.

"Okay?"

"Yeah," he replied evenly, "okay."

Well. . . what the hell?

"So you'd just. . . let it go? Just like that?"

He shrugged as he stepped over some roots, picking his way back to where she stood.

"Yeah. What's the use of dwelling on something if it's not mutual?"

Mutual? Now there was a word that created certain tangents in Matsumoto's mind. What if he didn't think things were mutual as in him not having feelings for her? Did he have his spine so straight he couldn't allow himself to turn?

She needed to take a different angle on this or she wasn't going to make her captain understand anytime soon, and it might just clarify whether or not he really did consciously admit anything.

"So you're telling me that it doesn't bother you at all that you kissed her, that you're doing all these things for her, and that she's running off to spend a week with Kurosaki?"

Well that got his attention quick, if the sudden tensing of his frame was any indication. She decided to test her luck and push on, seeing as the only reply to her statement was a silence filled with a subtle strain.

"You're saying that it doesn't bother you in the slightest that she could be falling into his arms right now after you were the one that went in after her in Hueco Mundo? Honestly? And let's not forget how you took care of her over there."

There's a silence that made Matsumoto wonder if she had pushed too far. She noted the tautness there, the struggle in her captain's hardened gaze and furrowed brow.

"It was an order." He finally retorted, arms crossed over his chest as he looked out at the lake.

The blonde sighed, mirroring her captain as she leaned her hip on the tree, arms crossed underneath her ample chest.

"You can't hide it, you know. It shows."

"I don't know what-"

"Oh, stop with the denials! You think I didn't catch you staring at her when we dressed her up? Think I wasn't aware of your jacket over her shoulders when you guys got in the cab or how all of a sudden you just can't seem to bump into her enough?"

The white haired captain reflexively opened his mouth to retort but found the words too weak, the excuses too flimsy, to hold up against the woman beside him.

She knew him better than he knew himself sometimes, and lying was fruitless in her company. But the knee-jerk reaction to refuse the knowledge wasn't going down without a fight of its own.

"It's nothing," Was what came out of his mouth instead, "I just. . . find her more intelligent than she lets on."

"It's called a crush. It's perfectly-"

"It is not a-"

"Just because Hinamori-chan didn't work out in the end, doesn't mean you can't let yourself learn to open up again to someone, you know."

Cerulean eyes finally found hers then, and Rangiku knew she had pushed too far as his mouth closed with an audible click and his brows drew down.

"Leave her out of this." He snarled before pushing off the tree and storming away from her.


They fought.

A lot.

Rukia had three days left and of those, they fought like there was no tomorrow for two. She faulted him for stupid things, he called her stupid in general, and no middle ground was found until well after midnight on the second night through a hissed/whispered argument over her tossing out more of his clothes from the closet because she needed the space to sleep.

The petite shinigami was sitting with her feet dangling off of the edge of her makeshift bed, violet eyes silently following the griping young man as he set an alarm for the next morning. She didn't miss when he swooned slightly—didn't realize she's holding her breath—until he turned to see if she's noticed.

"I'm fine." He says gruffly.

"Yeah," She replied as she started to swing her legs again, "I know."

They each turned to do their own thing then, making themselves busy before the elephant in the room is addressed until finally they were both lying in bed and it seemed that the inevitable couldn't be pushed away anymore.

So what did they do?

Ichigo was in bed, staring at the ceiling. Rukia said nothing, instead pulling herself further into the closet and lying down without, for once, sliding the closet door shut.

Both of them quietly shifted in the darkness until Rukia was facing the closet doors, violet eyes wide in the dark and mind caught imagining the human lying mere feet away as she curled into herself. The mop of orange bent against the pillow that yielded to the shape of his cheek was there in her imagination just like the very first time she had jumped through his window and landed softly, fleeting and light upon his bed. The brown of his eyes, even as she closed her own violet ones, was there and probably staring straight at the thin obstruction between them as she had been. Her small fingers curled, imagining him facing her in that single moment of desperate illusion, twining their fingers together.

His hand would envelope hers, hiding her tiny fingers.

"I'm so-"

"Don't." Rukia's felt herself spit out sharply. Her voice (because it was hers that had responded right?), wrapped painfully tight around the single word in an attempt to hold back the sudden lump in her throat—when it had formed and how her ears had caught what her heart was trying to shut out sent her already muddled emotions into further turmoil, mixing within and probably reflected in Sode no Shirayuki's domain through the falling of quiet snow.

Snow for miles—as far as the eye could see behind closed eyes and prickling her skin with the chill, achingly slow, flake by flake until it crept under her skin and deep into her bones.

"I'm not sorry for anything." She somehow felt herself say into the darkness. "And the moment you are is the moment I'll start hating you."

They both remained quiet and Rukia wondered if Ichigo had managed to fall asleep, though knowing him-

"Goodnight, Rukia."

She hesitated for a moment, choking on the fact that this is the last time she'll say good night to him like this. Slowly, the petite shinigami gathers herself again and finally answers into the dark.

"Good night, Ichigo."

Neither of them slept that night.