A/N: Please don't kill me.

Also, things aren't always what they seem. Keep that in mind before you roll your eyes at me. Lol.


Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix

(My heart opens itself to your voice)


I Can't Find The Words To Say I


The goodbyes were never said.

When Rukia awoke the next morning, Ichigo was still in bed and the alarm beside him was blaring. Frowning, the petite shinigami somehow managed to stumble out of her cocoon of sheets and unceremoniously trip her way out of the closet before slamming a hand mercilessly down on the offending machine.

"He's slipped into unconsciousness again."

Scowling, her face scrunched into a wide yawn and she rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her palms, blinking through the sunlight at the figure in the bed. The shock of orange hair was barely visible over the edge of the sheets, the rising of the lump in the bed in rhythmic breathing reassuring her that at the very least he wasn't hurting or somehow compromised.

"You're leaving today, aren't you?" Urahara's voice was neutral as it broke into her thoughts harshly—no inflection of note that could reflect the tiptoe of someone reduced to pitying her situation. If there was something she could always count on the shopkeeper for at least, it would be his flippant nature even in the most dire of circumstances.

Then, even in the haze between wakefulness and unconsciousness she appreciated it—later on when the situation could be more dire? Maybe not so much.

Sighing, she finally turned away from Ichigo to the man leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms.

"Yeah. I have to." There was silence again. She felt Urahara's eyes follow her as she finally decided to shuffle to the closet once more, pulling out her small traveling pack to dig around in it with a frown before finding her toiletries.

"Might be better that way anyways." She muttered, pushing past the shopkeeper and into the bathroom.

"Well, you never know! Maybe he might-"

Glaring at him fiercely, Rukia made sure the door only slammed shut behind her when he decided to try and poke his head in.

The circumstances were dire enough, she figured.


"So. . . have you heard from Rukia?"

They were sitting on the roof of the tenth division building, Rangiku working her way steadily through a cone of vanilla ice cream. Ashido regarded her for a moment, trying not to stare as she got a bit of the treat on her upper lip, noticed, and allowed her pink tongue to dart out to wipe at the stray sweetness.

He swallowed, looking down at his own cone of ice cream before taking a tentative swipe of it.

"No, not really. She's supposed to be coming back home today though."

"Ah."

Ashido shifted, licking at a straying droplet and letting his gaze rise to meet Rangiku's, who smiled in amusement at him.

"Like it?" His eyes lingered on hers for a moment, grey on baby blue, and Matsumoto couldn't help but be drawn in, wondering what exactly was behind the impenetrable wall he so passively presented in his toughened gaze. At first she had pegged him as just another stiff—not that she'd blame him of course, what with being stranded on his own for so long. But the more time she passed in his presence, the more she was beginning to realize that there was much more lurking under the surface.

Like here and now, watching him take another lick and tilt his head in contemplation.

"Strawberry was better." Grinning, Rangiku took another bit of her own, shifting into a comfier sitting position. Even though it had been somewhat recently that she had lost her chance at a relationship with a fellow shinigami, she found Ashido and her friendship something that was quickly becoming a constant in her days, if not quite natural. It didn't hold the tension of needing anything romantic. Instead, she realized, he had somehow begun filling the hole of loneliness in her heart as a healing balm of sorts.

Company-someone to fill the static of her mind when the liquor could not.

"So, have you been friends with Rukia for long?" He questioned, breaking her of her thoughts.

"No," The busty blonde replied, "I actually have only recently been getting to know her better. Before she became partners with my captain on the last mission, I hadn't really seen her much."

Ashido was halfway towards another lick before he frowned and turned to her. "So then how long has your captain known her?"

She shrugged. "Give or take about the same amount of time."

Noting his incredulously raised brows, Rangiku smirked. "So I'm not the only one who notices it then?"

Ashido's lips parted as if to answer, but then the words seemed to halt in his throat as he instead took a swipe at the ice cream, giving himself a moment to digest the information.

"I believed. . . I assumed. . ."

"No, there's nothing official there." That much was obvious—Ashido had honestly been running under the assumption that maybe they had something. . . not hidden necessarily, but certainly more low-key due to the social standing of Rukia's family. And that maybe, Byakuya disapproved an actual blessing of anything between the two strongly enough that he was pushing for a marriage for his sister.

But if there was nothing between the two, then. . . how did Byakuya finding her a husband fit into it?

"I think they'd be cute together."

He didn't notice the sharp eye his companion was giving him as he contemplated, carefully cataloging his reaction and gauging for any sort of defensive retort. She'd seen him as someone (of course, after breaking him out of his shell) that could possibly become her confidant in the matter due to his relaxed relationship with Rukia. Nonetheless, she was trying to avoid stepping on any toes as well. If he liked Rukia in any way other than platonic, she'd have to find a way to at least protect her captain from his budding feelings should Rukia choose to respond to Ashido. Even if she'd be very disappointed, at the very least Rangiku would be able to do more damage control.

Baby blue eyes noted the nonchalant shrug, and the vice-captain of the tenth would be lying through her teeth if she said she didn't follow the movement, a stray devil of a thought leading to a wonder of how much muscle exactly was hidden underneath the black of their uniform.

He made the damn thing look-

"Matsumoto-san, you're. . ." Shaking her head vigorously (as if that would help dispel such thoughts), she blinked and followed where Ashido pointed on her crossed legs. One of her knees had ice cream on it. Cursing, she scooped it onto a finger quickly before sticking it in her mouth.

Raising a brow, the redhead beside her chuckled and shook his head, turning back to his own treat and missing the deep red that stained the buxom blonde's face.

"So why do you think they'd be good together?" He asked as he shifted to get rid of the pins and needles in his left leg, eyes roaming over the peaceful landscape of their world.

He'd never get sick of those skies.

"I think," Rangiku began, stopping for a second to bite into the quickly depleting cone, "that they complement each other in a lot of ways. I mean, they may share the same basic element, but when it comes down to it, they're different in the ways that count."

Ashido nodded neutrally, mind awhirl with the possibility.

It was a crazy idea, but it might just work. Hitsugaya was a respected captain, powerful in all the ways that mattered, and intelligent—but that wasn't exactly why Ashido thought it would work.

"From what I know about her, she's very stubborn, much like him. Sometimes that's what it takes to get him to see reason and I know she wouldn't be afraid to do that, you know?"

He nodded.

Because from what he had come to see of the captain, he cared for Rukia more than he was letting on. It wasn't even that there was anything obvious about it in the sense of actual romance or gestures that Ashido could say were clearly delineated, but since when were things ever obvious? Tangible but unseen, much like an underlying current of potential left untapped—something that, given the chance, might grow roots deeply. Little glances, subtle movements, the very posture of each as they would regard the other in a room—that was the subtlety that had originally made Ashido simply assume there was more there than what he was aware of.

But what he was thinking of doing could put that tenuous, newly formed whatever under strain that it might not be able to handle. Expert he might not be, but unaware he wasn't either—especially when he could still feel, with little effort, the dirt under his fingernails from a fresh grave and the limp weight of a woman he'd become close to on his team in his arms.

Lost deep in his train of thought, he didn't notice when Rangiku had stopped giving reasons. Instead, trying not to be too obvious about the whole matter, he nonchalantly asked, "Would you even believe it far enough to reach marriage?"

Choking on the piece of cone she had been chewing on, Rangiku turned to him with wide eyes.

"Ashido, I know you've been a bit out of the loop, but marriage? You can't be serious! I mean, I wasn't in the ranks back in your day, I don't think, but relationship customs can't have changed that much, can they?"

He shrugged noncommittally.

Going silent for a moment, a smirk suddenly bloomed on Rangiku's face.

"I like the way you think though." A corner of his mouth quirked as she bumped his shoulder with hers playfully, finishing the last of her ice cream.

Oh, if she only knew.


There was not so much as a sniffle from Ichigo as Rukia (loudly) got everything she had brought with her and packed. Smirking, she had made sure the pile of things that she had meticulously set as a teetering tower on top of his chest would last until he chose to move.

Oh, he'd remember her alright.

There were textbooks on the bottom to make a firm base, followed on the next layer by some of his homework papers. Everything after that was anything that seemed to have a nice flat enough surface (like some manga, video game cases, music discs, and DVD cases). And at the very top, his pencil holder and alarm sat proudly.

Standing back to survey her work, Rukia smirked smugly before adjusting the strap of her bag and turning on her heel to leave. Ishida had been standing in the doorway, quietly watching her work and offering only a raised eyebrow as she passed him.

"Feel free to add onto it and blame it on me." She said as she cheerfully went down the stairs to where her gate would be.

The Quincy seemed to contemplate whether to follow her to say a proper goodbye or stay and add onto her masterpiece, eyes shifting from the stairs to the inside of the room.

He sighed as he noticed the pencil holder starting to shift to one side.

Better go and fix that.

And if he happened to add some more, it was simply to perfect her work of course-at least that's what he told himself (and Chad) when his friend found him like that, uncapping a marker and trying to mimic Rukia's famed ink mustaches.


As anticlimactic as everything had been over the week, Rukia couldn't help but be glad that she didn't have to say goodbye to Ichigo. Even as the pressure from the opening gates blasted past her and the sunlight streamed in from her home world, all she did was sigh, allowing the tension to leave her shoulders as she raised an arm against the onslaught of light and squinted, the buildings slowly gaining definition as her eyes adjusted.

Home—her real home.

Not a closet.

She took her time walking back to the Kuchiki manor, returning a few morning greetings as she made to merge with the hustle and bustle of the morning. Many shinigami were weaving in a chaotic pattern of places to be and things to do—some with the ever-present paperwork, others in groups, but all headed in some given direction.

As she stood there, Rukia wished that for once, her life was as easy as theirs seemed.

For a while the she had been left reeling in confusion of the turmoil that had made quick, short work of her everyday life. It actually wasn't until Ichigo once again went comatose that she realized that nothing would change—nothing except her state of mind. Ichigo would still be gone one way or another and her sister was still dead. Hitsugaya was still a captain and come hell or high water, she'd have to face him occasionally.

And needless to say, she wasn't a coward.

There were still so many things left in her mind to sort, but she had time and nothing of real consequence anyways. There wasn't someone trying to topple Sereitei anymore, no one to beat. For once in her short career, she could actually take a step back and make a wise decision not fueled on raw emotional moral alone.

Her tiny feet continued on, scuffing the dirt as she walked. It shouldn't have startled her then, when without warning she found herself standing in ankle length grass before the roots of the large tree by the lake. For a moment Rukia regarded it, violet eyes taking in the swaying green leaves and rough branches, following them with her gaze until they all intertwined into the thick trunk and down as they split once more into the gnarled mess of the roots that pushed up through the thick green of the grass.

She had always loved heights. More so when it was rough bark under her palms and the swaying breeze making the shadows of the limbs dance across her face.

Karakura Town could keep its' rooftops.

Without much thought she picked her way through the tangled, gnarled roots and dropped her pack unceremoniously among them, kicking off her specially issued uniform sandals and socks and climbing easily up the ancient limbs. Finding herself a comfortable spot, she leaned back against the trunk and allowed a small smile of contentment to take over her features as she took in the warmth of the sun's rays that peeked through the tree's limbs.

Slowly, as she grew relaxed, her thoughts began to wander back to her brother.

No matter what, Rukia knew that she had to be strong enough to be there for him. Seeing what it was that he had lost when Hisana's life had been claimed was an eye opener that she would not forget for as long as she lived. Nothing was the same anymore because in showing her that piece of himself, in allowing her to see the gravesite of her sister, he'd been vulnerable.

And he'd done it willingly for her.

Honestly it had never been a question of whether she would stay with Ichigo and forswear her duties as shinigami. Was it difficult to think about it? Yes. Tempting? Possibly, for a moment. But she knew her path lay here, helping protect those that weren't quite as lucky as to be able to do so themselves. If nothing else, at the very least the petite shinigami didn't dare stain her brother's name in breaking her oath to those people. His honor was her own—always had been, though now it was doubly reaffirmed through more than just duty.

Plus Ichigo deserved a normal life—something clean of the nightmares of his childhood, unbound by the drive to save them time and again. Long after having transferred her powers, the guilt had at times surfaced, a constant reminder of her selfish desperation to survive. But if she knew that he was happy she could let that go. He could finish school and settle down with a family of his own, wife, kids, and all. He could watch over his sisters and bully whomever even tried to glance in their direction.

But most of all, he could grow old at his own pace.

"Your face is going to stay like that if you don't stop thinking so hard." She jumped, nearly toppling out of her perch as she looked down at the white haired youth standing with crossed arms and looking up at her.

"Look, I-"

"Hitsuga-"

They started and stopped at the same time. Loosening her death grip on the tree, Rukia gestured for him to hold on for a moment as she toed her way back down. Smiling apologetically, she brushed off dust Toushiro knew wasn't even there before finally steeling herself to look up at him.

"I'm sorry, what were you going to say?"

"No, no, go ahead." The captain replied, waving a hand in dismissal of her apology.

"No, really I insist."

Cerulean found violet then and try as she might, Rukia couldn't help but be pulled in as she tried to swallow.

There it was again—that look like the one at the gate. It was as if he was trying to tell her a million things, the words tumbling behind his eyes and getting stuck somewhere on the path to his tongue. She watched then, transfixed as he seemed to make up his mind, breaking the stare and looking away with a sigh.

"Can we just start over?"

Rukia, still trying to shake the strange effect of his gaze, blinked.

"I. . . don't understand?" Was her cautious reply.

He scowled then, and whether it was in frustration at her lack of understanding or his own inability to put everything into his words, she wasn't sure. One of his hands found its way to the thick tufts of white hair, raking through the strands as he turned as if to pace, noticed, and forced himself to face her again.

"I just think that we started off on the wrong foot."

"I don't see how." She blurted before she could stop herself, still trying to catch up from her own mental wanderings just moments before.

Her statement seemed to floor him for a second, mouth slightly gaping before it closed audibly with a click. Finally he replied, "Ok."

Rukia regarded him, trying to read something—anything—of his subtle body language that could've given her a clue as to what he was thinking. With some dismay she found that really there wasn't much to go on. Though she liked to think lately she'd gotten to know him a bit better, it wasn't enough for her to trust her gut on it. Yes, he was frustrated. Maybe even annoyed. But whether that was at her, himself, or whatever was on his mind, Rukia couldn't even begin to fathom.

Plus, to be honest, she hadn't really thought much on anything relating to him recently due to other matters that had been shoved to the forefront of her priorities. But could anyone blame her? It was one thing knowing she would never see someone again—it was another knowing that she would be able to see him, but he wouldn't be able to see her.

The whole tailspin from the foolish wanderings of her emotions wasn't exactly something she had expected would be so hard to deal with.

And then there was this. . . thing with Toushiro. What it could possibly be and why, she had no idea. Something was there, just on the edge of her conscious being and it nattered on, incessantly trying to poke at her. It felt as if there was a magnet somewhere between them and the sensation left her more than a bit wary.

"Is it alright?" She asked hesitantly, trying to reaffirm what she had said.

"I mean," She backpedaled awkwardly, "I just thought that after what we've been through, after the things we've seen, starting over would seem rather. . ."

The monstrosity that had killed those women looking for her had taken on Ashido's form. And though that wasn't exactly an intimate detail at face value, it was an intrusion into her subconscious and the list of people that she felt she had failed in her life. Rukia knew that Toushiro could piece that much together.

But that was something that not many others would know—and the fact that it was someone she was just starting to know who had, well. . .

Shrugging, she tried to look for the correct word in her mind and found she couldn't. Instead her violet eyes rose to him apologetically as she let the thought settle between them.

The white haired youth's brow was furrowed, contemplative, slowly nodding as he shifted from foot to foot.

"Yes. I guess you're right."

If she didn't know any better, Rukia would think that he was dealing with a life or death situation. He looked so somber that it nearly made her mouth quirk into a smile. Instead she looked to the lake and tried to swallow down a laugh, stifling it down to a sharp release of breathe through her nose and covering it up as a cough in the silence that followed.

Toushiro watched the tumble of thoughts in her gaze as what had been a light smile fell into something less sure, darkening her features and furrowing her brow in hesitation.

He could practically see her thoughts backtracking as she turned towards him again, a hand rising to curl at her collarbone.

"Are you-" She began. Toushiro though was already pretty sure of what she was thinking and instead cut her off with a stern look.

"Yes." Her brows rose incredulously.

"How did you know what I was going to say?"

"You were going to ask if I was sure." Smirking cockily, Toushiro crossed his arms. "You know, you're not that hard to read anymore."

Her hand found a fraying thread in her sleeve instead as she looked at anything but him, cheeks flaming. "I've been told that, yes. Something I've got to work on, I know." Shrugging, the captain nonchalantly poked his way towards the tree, settling into his spot at the base before he regarded her again.

"I never said it was bad." Rendered momentarily speechless, Rukia stood rooted to the spot.

Was that a. . . compliment?

"I-. . . thank you, Hitsugaya-taichou."

"It's-"

"Hitsugaya-san, right." Toushiro frowned slightly but didn't reply. He watched as she gestured with a nod of her head at her pile of discarded shoes and socks and turned to grab them before settling down beside him in the roots.

His eyes followed her movements, watching as slim, pale fingers curled delicately around the socks and tugged them on, followed by the wooden sandals, hooking them securely onto her feet with precise motions. There was a certain method to her, he realized. Everything she did had a rhythm that had been pre-thought to be carried out as gracefully and appropriately as possible in a way that flowed almost naturally.

Thinking back to his missions in Rukongai, Toushiro realized he couldn't reconcile the dirty, gritty children of the streets with the young woman before him. He could probably stare at her a million years and never understand how something so subtle could have survived in such an environment.

It was an unspoken but common belief that everyone carried an invisible mark upon them of their 'birthplace.' No matter where they came from, the way they carried themselves, appeared, and spoke always gave them away—except for Rukia. But whether that was product of Byakuya's influence or her own character, he wasn't too sure.

Nonetheless, the juxtaposition it created was . . . interesting.

"So, did you need me for something, or. . . ?" Rukia trailed off, shouldering her pack and waiting expectantly as her companion seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts.

"No, no. I just. . ."He ran a hand over tired features before standing. "It's sort of a habit now, coming to this place when I need a moment to breathe."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Rukia replied, startled at her own rudeness. Thoroughly embarrassed, she figured parting would be her best option as her fingers curled into lightly clenched fists at her sides. "I'll just-"

"You don't have to go, you know." He cut her off, the corner of his lip quirking in amusement before rising. "This was technically a place you found so if someone should be leaving, it's me."

"No, please. It's. . . we found it. It's, well. . ."

Shrugging, she let the sentence fade. For some reason she just couldn't make the 'ours' leave her mouth, swallowing it down instead. It just felt strange somehow, as if something much more significant was being attached to that if she acknowledged it.

So she chose not to.

"I have to head home anyways, so really it wouldn't be a bother."

"Of course."

"Would you like to walk with me, Hitsugaya-san?" There was surprise evident in the slight widening of Toushiro's eyes, his reaction causing her to hesitate. "You seem to have a lot on your mind and I assure you, if you need someone to listen, I could. It's not like you haven't done the same for me."

Violet orbs rose slowly to meet his own, a blush dusting her cheeks as she looked away. "I mean, you're probably tired, what am I saying. My apologies."

"It's no problem. I'm sure your brother wouldn't want you walking alone anyways. Come on. He's probably wondering where you are by now."

Nodding, Rukia fell into step beside him and hoped she hadn't pushed her luck with the captain's friendliness. To be on the safe side, she chose to not try and break the comfortable silence that had formed between them. Instead her gaze began to wander around the landscape, petite shoulders loosening the further they walked.

The day had dawned clear and more than a bit warm. Spring was giving way to summer soon and Rukia welcomed it, albeit reluctantly as they continued. She'd never been much for the heat, preferring instead the soft fall of snow in the gardens where she could dig her toes in. Still, it wasn't hot enough to be uncomfortable yet, but the promise that it would soon be left her hoping for a longer rainy season.

Either way, she had been wound so tight over the last week that it actually relieved her to be back to a place where the lines were a little clearer. Here, even as the seasons changed she knew her place. Here she was the sister of a very influential man and a woman who would give her life if it meant protecting their home.

Here, Rukia Kuchiki was well defined.

"Why did you return?"

It was a nonchalant question that Rukia almost dismissed as her hearing things even as she stopped.

Did he just. . .?

"Sorry?"

"Yeah," Toushiro said, meeting her gaze squarely as he stopped ahead of her. "Why did you return?"

The question had come out a lot more blunt than it had seemed in his head, but Toushiro didn't take it back. He wanted to know. Ever since what Matsumoto had planted in his head, he really couldn't wrap his mind around what was happening to him. He had spent many days making time to meditate, hoping it would clear his head and prove to Matsumoto that yes, he could function without making a big deal out of whatever the hell was going on.

Unfortunately for him, no matter what he did he always found his thoughts going full circle. They would start with her and as he tried to go deeper into the caverns created by Hyourinmaru in his mind, he found there was no respite there.

In the reflections of the shards of ice he'd swear to have seen her eyes, the shadows dancing on the harsh crystal-like structures, creating the shade of violet that he'd unknowingly begun to search for. It startled him to realize it when he would turn and stop.

Standing there, Hyourinmaru beside him questioningly, the captain came to some striking realizations.

One: He needed to curb Matsumoto's influence on him.

And two: no, no, scratch that. One, and only one—he needed to curb female influence on himself.

This was way too out of hand.

At least, that's what he thought up until the point he saw Rukia again. He'd like to think it was mostly shock at seeing her honestly, for some reason thinking that maybe she would stay with Kurosaki at the cost of her life here.

"Should I not have?" There was annoyance laced into her tone, frown lines marring her brow as she shook him of his thoughts.

"I wasn't saying that. I just figured . . ."

But what was it that he figured? There wasn't much of an answer to that even after all his meditations. Yes, he did have a certain attraction to her. But this wasn't like it had been with Momo. It felt different on such a fundamental level that comparing them seemed wrong. Following that logic, he could safely say he didn't have a crush on her.

But then what-

Her gasp broke him out of those wanderings as he looked to her and then up at where she was staring.

The sky remained its same clear blue, a sharp contrast to the long column of thick black smoke blooming lazily into the sky from the direction of her home. He heard more than saw her break into a full run, her brother's name falling from her lips as he made to follow.

They hadn't been too far to begin with, so by the time he caught up, Rukia was already helping drag someone out of the building. The staff was in chaos, forming lines from the well to the house where they tried in vain to push back the flames with buckets of water. Why the hell such large grounds didn't have a freaking hose was beyond Toushiro as he wove through people to get to his fellow shinigami.

He pushed and sidestepped, following the sound of Rukia's rising voice as she argued with two servants who were trying in vain to hold her back.

"Rukia!"

Managing to finally slip through the throngs of people, he watched in horror as she managed to yank free and ran headlong into the mansion.

Of course she would.

Cursing heavily under his breath, Toushiro braced himself, hesitating only for a second before running in after her.