Hello again! Sorry this took so long. Unfortunately, I can no longer guarantee the sanctity of the update schedule. I'm really busy with school, and chapter five is just kicking my ass all over the place (speaking of... umm... is there a beta reader in the audience?).

I hope you all like this chapter. When I was debating scrapping the story entirely, this is the chapter that made me decide it was worth fixing and finishing. Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: Only Bleach I own is NaOCl

Chapter Three: Earthly and Weak

"Your logic, my friend, is perfect..."

"I don't know why you like sitting here."

Ichigo would have known it was Ishida even if he hadn't recognized his voice. Only Ishida dared speak to him when he sat in the park. Everyone else had the good sense to stay away and let him be alone.

"I don't know either," he replied without looking up. He felt the Quincy settle in beside him on the bench. It didn't matter how unfriendly he was; if Ishida wanted to join him, he would not be deterred.

"In fact, I'm not sure I can imagine a more unpleasant view than my own bloodstains on the pavement," he continued.

"Then it's a damn good thing no one's making you stay and look." Ichigo's tone was deliberately light but he couldn't hide the tightness in his voice. Not that it would matter to the other boy. They went through this little song and dance every time Ishida came and sat with him. At least it was almost over. Ishida would make some comment about Chad and Inoue, like "Inoue-san was a bit worried about you; you seem so distracted in class." or: "I think Sado-kun had hoped to walk home with you today, did you speak to him?" or, most often: "Oh, I almost forgot, Inoue-san and Sado-kun wanted me to tell you hello." He always had some subtle or not-so-subtle jab to make Ichigo feel guilty for avoiding them. Ichigo would nod, or grunt, or ignore him entirely, and that would be the end of it. Ishida would sit with him on the bench, quietly, and stay until Ichigo left. It was a nuisance, but at least Ishida didn't come here to bother him often.

"No one's making you stay, either, Kurosaki."

That was certainly not part of the song and dance. Ichigo turned his head sharply to glare at Ishida, who had the nerve to look completely unruffled. As if he hadn't just destroyed a routine weeks in the making.

"I like it here," Ichigo snapped.

Ishida made made a small noise of smug derision, not quite a laugh but too dignified for a snort. "Less than a minute ago you said you don't know why you like it here."

Ichigo's scowl intensified. He made himself loosen his jaw before he started grinding his teeth. "I like it here because this is the last place she ever set foot in in this world." He stared Ishida down, daring him to say something, anything, in response. Behind his square glasses Ishida's eyes were blank, his face unchanged.

"I didn't know you felt that way," he finally replied.

"No, you didn't. Because it's not really any of your fucking business. So why don't we move along to you guilt tripping me about ignoring Chad and Inoue so we can get to the part where you shut the hell up and stop bothering me."

Ishida removed his glasses and methodically wiped the lenses with a handkerchief. He took his time re-folding it before returning it to his pocket. At that point Ichigo wasn't sure whether he was more angry with Ishida for talking to him when he wanted to be alone, or for refusing to be intimidated.

When the Quincy spoke again his voice was pointed. "So you admit you're ignoring them."

"I ain't gonna play stupid word games with you."

Ishida sighed, the first sign Ichigo had seen that the hostility was reaching him.

"Kurosaki, I have mentioned them in passing and delivered messages for them since they can't ever seem to speak to you at school. Any guilt resulting from that is coming from your conscience, not from me." Ishida's voice softened. "In any case, I understand why you avoid them."

Ichigo bristled. He leaned back against the bench and stared forward, crossing his arms. "I will only say this once. You could not possibly understand."

"You failed them." Ichigo tensed but still refused to look at Ishida. "I know that's what you think. They followed you to Soul Society. They believed in you and when Kuchiki-san died you didn't just fail her, you failed Sado-kun and Inoue-san. Tell me I'm wrong."

There was nothing he could say. Ishida had pulled his thoughts right out of his head and laid them down before him, where he couldn't look away. Said them aloud, so he could not pretend he didn't hear.

"That's why you can face me. Whatever my reasons for going, I wasn't following you. You know that, and you still speak to me. You can still look me in the eye."

Ichigo turned to Ishida again and found it to be true, but for more reasons than the Quincy realized. He was surprised -- even a little disturbed -- that Ishida had understood his motivations so well, had figured him out so easily. He could not say the same for himself.

"Why did you go to Soul Society with us?"

Ishida looked genuinely surprised. He looked away from Ichigo, across to the park. There were children playing, but the chill in the breeze promised that summer was near its end. When he finally spoke he gave careful consideration to each word.

"Some of it was pride. I liked the idea of thwarting shinigami. And I didn't like the idea of you being the one to do it. But most of all... I liked her." Ishida shrugged, looking uncharacteristically hapless. "She wasn't at all what I expected from a shinigami. She was a kind person. Kuchiki-san cared about other people, and she had a quiet dignity that I admired."

"Quiet dignity..." Ichigo muttered. "That doesn't sound much like the Rukia I remember."

Ishida shrugged again. "People are complicated, Kurosaki. We all see different pieces of each other."

They sat in silence, now on the razor edge between companionable and tense. Ichigo was trying to work up the nerve to speak again. He had no idea what Ishida was thinking. Even after a minor revelation about the other boy's character, he still couldn't make any sense of him.

"You were... uh... only part right. About why I can... why I can handle talking to you, even if I wish you'd buzz off and leave me alone." Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck. "You aren't nice to me. Everybody else is so fucking nice to me it's like they're trying to smother me. You're still an asshole just like always. So I guess I just want to say... thanks. For, y'know, being yourself."

Ishida smirked at the back-handed compliment. "Well, you make it very easy to be... myself." His expression grew more serious as he added, "I don't pity you. You aren't the only one who lost something there."

Ichigo looked down and folded his hands in his lap. He had sensed the difference, the absence, in the Quincy since they returned to the living world, but it had always seemed too personal to mention, as if even asking about it would be taking a cheap shot. "D'you ever think it's funny?" Ichigo blurted suddenly. "I mean, we can't even kill ourselves. It's a one way ticket back to the world where everything turned to shit for us."

"No, Kurosaki. I do not think it is funny. In fact, I don't think of it at all because I am not a coward."

"I didn't say I was going to do it, asshole. I just think it's funny."

Disgust entered Ishida's voice. "How can you dare? How can you even joke about throwing away the life she bought so dearly?" Ishida stood and placed himself directly in front of Ichigo. "Well!? Answer me!"

"I don't know," Ichigo mumbled. "I don't know." It was a lie and they both knew it. Rukia changed Ichigo's life. There had always been a savage longing inside himself to protect the ones he loved, a dull ache that he could see spirits but not understand or help them. Rukia had changed all that, but without her it became meaningless. She had been his compass, sail, and rudder. Bereft of these, his life seemed tattered and empty, nothing much to speak of and nothing much to hold onto.

Ishida adjusted his glasses again. He looked tired. "I will leave you alone now, but before I go I have one thing to say. I have no illusions that you will believe me, but I hope you'll at least consider it."

It was clear he wasn't going to continue without some sort of reply, so Ichigo nodded. The sun was full on Ishida's face, glaring bright white off his glasses and obscuring his eyes.

"You're wrong about yourself, Kurosaki. You didn't fail them. You brought us all back alive, and that is the only thing Kuchiki-san would have wanted."

Ichigo jumped up from the bench, shaking with anger, fists clenched tightly. "You can't say that! You didn't see her! I was close enough to touch her and I couldn't--"

Ishida interrupted him, conceding to Ichigo's aggression only by raising his voice. "Just shut up and listen! Maybe you didn't fail anyone! Maybe we failed you! None of us were anywhere near the Sokyokou when it happened. Maybe if we'd all made it there we could have helped, maybe it would have been enough. But we'll never know and we have to live with that. We all have to live with that."

Ishida turned and walked away. He paused only long enough to throw over his shoulder, "I won't come here again. If you want friends, you know where to find them."

Ichigo sank back down onto the hard bench, exhausted by tension and memory. Shadows of trees were crawling closer as the sun moved; soon the bench would be in shade and the stone would grow cold. Just a little longer, Ichigo thought. I'll just stay here a little longer.

He was still sitting some hours later when the butterfly flitted across his vision. He froze, feeling sick and giddy all at once. Although the black wings wove through the air in lazy patterns, it always seemed to be moving toward him. Images rushed through Ichigo's mind: a butterfly flying through his window, and then she was there; the portal closing over her sad face, three butterflies sailing off into the night; the mass of beating wings that formed in her wake and rose to mask the sun and veil the sky.

Ichigo forced himself to remain completely still. He'd done it without thinking all the hours he spent lost in thought on that same bench, but the butterfly made it a challenge. Adrenaline was coursing through him and all his muscles felt like coiled springs. It was coming to him, he was sure of it. Ichigo kept his breathing slow and quiet, and watched.

The butterfly did not disappoint him. Eventually it passed in front of his face, coming to land on the back of the park bench not two feet from his shoulder. He started to move his cupped hands, slowly, so slowly, to either side of the butterfly. His mother had taught him to catch fireflies once; this couldn't be much different. Ichigo managed to get his hands into position without scaring the butterfly away. It fluttered its wings a few times but didn't lift off from the bench. Ichigo was not fooled. He waited and admired the veins of deep maroon that ran through its inky wings.

When the butterfly flitted into the air again he was ready. It was even easier than fireflies. He clasped his hands together in an instant, still cupped to make a space for the butterfly. All the tension from sitting so still drained out of him at once, and he slumped down against the back of the bench. Ichigo held his hands up in front of his face. He could feel the butterfly's wings brushing lightly against the skin of his palms. He stared intently as he loosened his fingers one by one.

His hands were empty.

Your logic, my friend, is perfect,

Your moral most drearily true;

But, since the earth clashed on her coffin,

I keep hearing that, and not you.

...

Communion in spirit! Forgive me,

But I, who am earthly and weak,

Would give all my incomes from dream-land

For a touch of her hand on my cheek.

--James Russell Lowell; "After the Burial"