Author's Note: Hey folks, just to let you know, as of 1st October 2011 I've finished typing up the whole thing. If you're following it, please let me know if rate of upload is okay. Thanks!

Back to Rukia and Renji…..

Their path took them away from the worst of the slums, from the shacks half-sunken in a mire of debris from the town. It took them along the edge of a river that ran through the heart of Rukongai, then up a grassy hill. As night began to fall, they were climbing still.

"I'm tired," Rukia said at length.

Her steps were dragging. It was starting to rain and, as the first fat drops struck the ground, several of the boys giggled and took off up the hill. Renji had been hanging back, matching her pace, but she had slowed. Her head was pounding and, when she looked up, the lights of the city were blurring into one another, like wet paint. Renji caught her as she stumbled.

People didn't get tired here. They used the word sometimes, but it always meant that they were bored, or busy, or just lazy. It was different for her. She used it to mean an ache in her bones and a heaviness in her body that had not been there before.

"Hey, Renji!" One of the children cried. The rain was falling more heavily now.

Rukia lowered herself onto a boulder at the side of the path, as Renji shouted back:

"Go on ahead. We'll catch you up!" He looked down at her: "When did you last eat?"

"Two weeks ago. Usually it's no more than three days, but" –

-"The boats didn't come in. I know. I went myself to try and get supplies for us, but" – he shrugged and crouched down – "I guess we're unlucky. And I'm sorry, Rukia."

"For what?"

"I'm like you. I get hungry. I get thirsty. I get tired. The others too, but, uh, not so much. Anyway, I found out this much: when there's two of us together, it's worse."

"What do you mean?"

"Can't you feel it?"

She could. It was like a part of him rubbing off on her. When she closed her eyes, he was still there. Instinctively, she flinched. Now that she was aware of him, now that he was imprinted on her mind, she was suddenly afraid that she would not be able to escape him. "It's alright," he said, a little disappointed by her reaction: "There's not many of us, but there are some."

"Really?"

"Sure."

She thought hard, then asked:

"Do you remember being alive, Renji?"

He shook his head. The rain was coming down hard now and mud was forming itself into rivulets that swept down the side of the hill.

"Come on, Rukia," he said, taking her hand.

Not far from the path, there was a ruined house. It had been fashioned from branches and boards and had probably not stood for long because the roof had cascaded inwards, leaving only a skeletal shell. However, there remained sturdy foundations beneath, and Renji led her along the side of the building to where a hole led down into the earth beneath the structure. It looked like the entrance to a rabbit warren. He slid in, feet first, and, after a moment, Rukia followed.

The walls down here were made of stone and, most importantly, they were dry. Rukia could stand, but Renji had to duck his head to move about comfortably: "You looked like you could use a rest."

"Im fine. Really."

"Seriously, you look kind of sick." He padded to the far side of the basement: "Anyway, we can hole up here while it storms. We've still got a way to go. Unless you really want to carry on."

He had the better of her. She said nothing, but sat down on the dry floor and pulled her knees up to her chin. The kimono she wore afforded no protection from the elements. It was wet through, dark and tacky against her skin, and she was shivering visibly. After a moment's deliberation, Renji strode over to her and knelt down at her side. In one motion, which was rough, yet oddly self-aware, he flung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into the crook of his body. She went rigid, but it took little effort on her part to realise that he was different to the leering men in the street who would wrap their arms about her waist if given half the opportunity. "You're fucking freezing," he muttered.

She could sense him and, in some small way, she could use that same instinct to guess his intentions and, finding nothing in him to doubt, she resigned herself to the fact that his body was warm wherever it touched hers. The lids of her eyes were suddenly heavy, and sleep came like an irresitable force. "This is a shit town," he was saying, and, though his words were rough, his voice was soft: "One day, I'm going to get out of here. All of us, we're going to get out of here."

But she didn't hear any more until he shook her awake.

In the dark, he moved away from her. She lay there, blinking, unable to see even her hand in front of her face. The sounds of the rain had stopped, but her body still felt stiff and she didn't want to keep walking. She wanted to lie there and sleep, even if it meant he left her in the cold. "How do you feel?" he asked, and, when she didn't answer, he added: "I think you need to eat something. Come on." His hand found hers in the darkness and pulled her to her feet.

He led her out into the silver-blue light of a clear and star-dusted night: "I can carry you the rest of the way," he said: "It's not a problem."

She turned briefly towards the town. From up here, it was impossible to imagine the cluttered, sweat-soaked streets or the mass of empty-eyed souls that walked those streets. There were only silvery lights as far as the eye could see, threading through the alleyways of Inuzuri and out into the other districts of Rukongai. Beyond them, rising like thorns from the ebb and flow of human souls were the white towers of the Sereitei, the domain of the death gods. Tonight, there were lights in those towers to rival the lights of Rukongai. From the gods to the beggars, there were lights enough tonight to challenge the moon and stars.

Renji was waiting for her. He lent down so that she could climb onto his back and, in such a way, he carried her back to the place he called home. A dozen beds, stacked one atop the other. Nearly twenty children. Supplies of food and fresh water, which he shared with her. And then she slept. And that was her first night in a place that would become her refuge for the next thirty years.