A.N.: Yachiru, as small children are wont to do (and her moreso in particular), demanded attention. So, she got it. =)

Crossroads

When the dark butterfly finally managed to deliver its message, Kenpachi grumbled and glared and stomped about, much to Yachiru's annoyance. (She hadn't meant to let it through - it had been the sixth, though, and she'd been napping just as he'd told her too, so he could hardly blame her for whatever it was the pretty thing had told him. So there. At least she got to play with it after.) When the ninth got through, he listened to whatever the pretty thing had to say then casually tossed it aside, still determinedly heading in the opposite direction from whence the messages came.

The eleventh to get through (Yachiru neatly distracted by the carefully wrapped piece of hard candy which had been attached to the tenth, wisely sent a few moments ahead as a distraction) produced different results, however. There was only a little bit of frowning and Yachiru's gleeful squeaks earned an amused snicker as she first played with the butterfly and then fought against the cleverly folded wrapping earned her a light pat on the head during one of the less extravagant pounces (namely, when she was actually in range to get a pat on the head to start with.)

"Oi."

Ignoring him entirely, Yachiru fussed and squeaked and poked at the wrapping some more. Part of the paper finally obligingly shifted, the resulting sweep of material unexpectedly turning the covering into a graceful paper crane. The resulting silence was enough to sidetrack Kenpachi from his muttering and grumbling, and he slowly crouched down to observe it (an enraptured Yachiru not even thinking to croak at him to remind him that he looked like a frog when he did that). The small, brilliantly colored paper crane sat in the leaves, a luminous spot of green and gold resting on dull shades of sepia. Kenpachi looked across the swan at the sparkling eyes watching the paper surprise in anticipation and delight, and then refocused on the creature itself as it shifted slightly, without any prompting from its audience.

The small ripple of enclosed reiatsu was one he knew - if one bothered to pay attention to such things - he supposed. Yachiru's quickly indrawn breath told him that she'd recognized it as well, even as she slowly clasped her hands together, waiting for the crane to finish unfurling its wings.

Kenpachi stared at the spot of green, still starkly outlined by dull, dead leaves and snorted to himself. The woman from the Seireitei wasn't one to underestimate his smarts, and he supposed he should feel flattered. Everyone else just tended to assume he was a dull-brained thug and left it at that. The messages accompanying the butterflies had all been very polite, very short. The invitation was open, with no strings attached and the reiatsu imbued in the butterflies had made good on the honesty of the promise, every time.

The paper crane spoke of what was left unsaid, more clearly than any message might have and Kenpachi listened to that message, heard it far more loudly than anything else the healer might have said or done.

Winter was coming.

Yachiru carefully pick up the crane, cradling it close to herself with a delighted murmur. Kenpachi frowned (more) and looked her over with a critical eye. The patches at her knees and elbows were becoming threadbare again, as they were on every piece the Kimono Woman had made for her. It hadn't been that long since they'd left that place behind, or so he thought. But though she didn't complain, Kenpachi had seen her poke a finger through worn hems and stitching more than one with a dissatisfied expression on her face. His frown grew darker as he carefully catalogued each small sign again; comparing them to the host of details he took note of each day, even though time wasn't something he was particularly concerned with. Hadn't been with, before, he slowly admitted to himself.

"Oi, brat." She was a growing child, making do with nothing many of the children they had seen during their travels did. He did the best he could, but while he never worried about his best in battle... sometimes, he did when it came to taking care of Yachiru.

"Ken-chan?" The gaze turned up towards him was fearless and trusting and happy. Yachiru had more than anyone else could ask for and not a single worry in the world. There was an exception to this though. "Ken-chan upset?" Setting down the green and gold confection back in its nest of dead leaves, Yachiru scrambled to him, hands reaching up imperiously to be picked up and set on his shoulder. Patting his cheek, Yachiru gazed at him intently - she didn't like the rare times he seemed so unsure. She often wondered why it was when he was looking at her, that he wore this expression. "Why?"

"You wanna be somewhere warm for this winter?" The question was rough, not entirely casual. Kenpachi looked at her sideways, then turned to study the creature gleaming up at them from the ground.

"Ken-chan too?" It was one of Those Questions Yachiru sensed, instantly. The ones where he was preparing to do something either extremely clever, or uniquely stupid. (He never had an in-between. Yachiru always found this either very entertaining or exquisitely exasperating.)

"Yeah, Ken-chan too," was the rough, annoyed reply, accompanied by a glare and a suddenly not-so-lost grin. The gleam of irritation faded from him expression at the brilliantly approving smile he was gifted with.

"With Ken-chan, go anywhere!" The reply wasn't as careful as Yachiru tried to make them, in such instances (he'd misunderstand and go for option uniquely stupid every chance, if she wasn't careful) so she made sure her smile was extra bright and special, and beaned him on the side of the head before hugging him, just to make her point. And to administer some pre-emptive good sense into his skull. (Just in case. It never hurt to be careful, she knew.)

Raising his hand to rub at the side of his head once she let go - and then blinking in mild surprise, because it was the first time he'd ever had to do that at all - Kenpachi gave her another sideways, perhaps just a bit proud sort of grin, then nodded towards the crane.

"G'wan then, start it up."

Yachiru's eyes widened at the words, the candy inside the crane instantly forgotten - who cared about candy when there was something new and interesting to see instead. Back down on the ground and cradling the crane in a heartbeat (half a heartbeat, Kenpachi would later decide) Yachiru started looking at it from every angle, poking and prodding lightly in order to activate whatever it was the thing did.

"How?" The ingratiating smile Kenpachi gave her at that was all the answer she needed.

The stinking rat didn't know.

Glaring at him in disgust, Yachiru injected every ounce of righteous indignation she possessed into her next words. Her reiatsu flared up in harmony, far more steadily than it had the first few times she'd practice aura control.

"KEN-CHAN NO BAKA!"

The results were instantaneous. With a merry chirp the paper crane suddenly flexed its wings and slowly started to flap them, causing Yachiru to forget her ire on the spot. It fluttered upwards a touch, hovering over Yachiru's cupped hands, and gently whirled around until it was pointing in a specific direction then sang out a single, joyful note.

Their guide to the healer woman was most perfect, in her opinion.

A darkly scowling Kenpachi was not so impressed.