The exchange of pleasantries being over and done with, Nanao decided she was tired of waiting and hauled Tatsuki off for her diagnostic. Renji was not sorry to see her go.

Fifteen minutes and he'd already completely creeped her out. He knew it just by the way she recoiled when he took her hands. He hasn't meant to unnerve her. It always looked so suave when Kyouraku-taichou did it.

Apparently what was charming in the hands of Shunsui was chester-molesterish in the hands of Renji.

Which, of course, the other two immediately felt they needed to point out. Ichigo scratched his head. "You were way too friendly."

"Honestly," Rukia said, crossing her arms, "What the hell was that?"

Renji could not defend himself. It was pointless, anyway. Everyone already knew. He could, however, point out that the etiquette police had fucked up, too. "Tatsuki-chan?" Rukia had never uttered such words in her life and she knew it. "And Kurosaki, you haven't given half a damn about her in years."

"Oh, as opposed to stalking her?" Rukia said it because she knew he'd never punch her. But her hard words made Renji visibly cringe; she immediately—guiltily—backtracked. "Okay, I felt weird calling her that and I probably won't do it again." She was blushing a little. "But what do we say? She disappeared on us. It's kinda bad for us to act like everything is the same."

Renji had already heard enough. He was ready to head back to the sixth and bury himself in his work. Again. He sighed as he moved toward the exit. "She didn't disappear. We let her slip away."

He let her slip away. His intentions, from the beginning—the end of their short time together—were to watch over her. But it took four months before he gathered the nerve to return and start to carry out his plans. He kept in contact with Rukia, of course, who stayed friendly with the Ishidas, who became the only source of information about the girl Renji left behind. She was doing well, all things considered. Never once was there a comment about chunks of her recent memory being carved away like pieces of a spiral ham. She was not lonely, she was not sad. She was herself, doing what she did. She attended classes at the University with Mizuiro and Keigo. She taught kids at the dojo. She worked at the convenience store. She was just fine without him. He knew this for sure within a year. Of that year, he had spent nearly an hour every night watching, shadowing, tailing. She still slept on her back with her wrist slung across her stomach. She liked to meditate in the pale morning sun, legs crossed, head slightly tilted toward the door so she could still pick up any activity on the other side—usually Orihime, come to bring the first born of the future Ishida brood to see her Auntie. Tatsuki would swing the toddler around and play airplane with her while Orihime watched with glee.

Renji took no comfort in the fact that she did not remember enough of him to miss him, hurt for him. He was too busy doing it for the both of them. Which was why he stopped watching the day she married Hakumei Mokoto. He never spoke of it, not even to Rukia, but Renji watched the entire courtship play out, feeling his heart rot away a little more with every kiss he observed, every smile she gave to that man who was not him. For a full ten years after she took the name Hakumei, he could not bear the thought of her. Particularly since the tattoo on his wrist would twitch like an angry nerve when he did. The day they married was still a black spot in his head. It would have been easier to hate her but he knew he had no right. This was how he became so well known—better than he was before, at least—in the taverns and bars of Rukongai. He didn't draw a sober breath after midnight for over five years, and spent another six or seven tumbling every stray girl that was willing. Not that either of these activities were enough to make Arisawa a distant memory for him. It was a decade before he crawled out of his nightly bottle and settled back into the life of a normal vice captain. Another year and he began, almost on queue, to wonder when he rubbed the name in hiragana on his wrist. By then the twitch was a tingle, and it almost tickled him when he remembered her face. What was she doing? Was she happy?

It was a good thing that she was with her boys when he found her again. She was far from Karakura, in an open plain of a park. She paced calmly as her boys tore into each other. Three of them, stair-stepped in age, all wide-eyed and feral, just like their mother. They sparred the same way she did; one would fall, shake himself, and be back up in an instant, ready to deliver swift retribution. They moved exactly like her. The smile she gave them was like no smile Renji had ever seen on her. It was then that it hit him. This was a joy he could not have given her. Hakumei Mokoto was the father of the children she cherished. Despite himself, Renji smiled at this. At Arisawa—Hakumei—and her boys. She was happy. And he was happy for her. The tattoo on his wrist was still; it clearly agreed with his assessment.

But he was sadder for himself. What chance was there for him after this? None, he thought. Like Rukia before her, Tatsuki found love and flourished in it. Only one thing was different. Rukia never completely let him go. But Hakumei Tatsuki would never lay hands on him again. He had the rest of her life to adjust to this notion. It was okay. He needed only to get used to her as she was now. They could still be friends, right? She'd come around, eventually.

It was six months after her arrival before he saw her again. Her assessment was acceptable; her place at the academy was secure and she seemed to enjoy being in school again. This he learned from Ichigo, whom Hakumei was also keeping at arm's length. "She says she doesn't want to be treated differently because of who she knows," Kurosaki shrugged, disappointed. Renji understood this to mean that he was expected to keep his distance as well.

But the day the Sixth squad captain and vice captain came to observe a random kidou class at the advanced level, Renji was shocked and pleased to find her among her peers, mouthing the incantations with an intense look on her face. Until she glanced up and caught his eye.

He must have blushed. Her eyes narrowed and she pointedly looked away.

Byakuya, who had silently observed the exchange, coughed a little. "What was it you told me about your would-be paramour? She would come around?"

"It's not what you think," Renji whispered back. He had not once, even to Rukia, stated or implied that he wanted to hook up with Hakumei again. He was hoping that he didn't, anyway.

But he had served under Kuchiki Byakuya for too long. No one knew the story as well as his Captain, and Byakuya seemed to enjoy twisting the knife whenever the opportunity arose. "I can smell that tattoo burning," came the response.

Renji blinked, examined his wrist. The sepia was now turning a deep burnt orange. And it was beginning to sting. He looked over at Hakumei again, who was ignoring him while the other students tried and failed to practice, excited by the visit of future superior officers. She obviously needed more time.

Urahara, clearly, had decided she'd had plenty. Renji rubbed his wrist. He needed to see shopkeeper. Soon. On the way out, Renji excused himself. His captain raised an eyebrow. "You might want to see if he can do something about the stench," Byakuya mused. "I dislike the idea of my compound reeking of charred redhead."