All those nights sleeping in a cramped closet had left plenty of time for Rukia to reflect on the singularly rare nature of the shit she had so stupidly stepped in. Other dangers and worries aside, it made her throat ache to search for a presence she could no longer feel because it was captured in a stranger.

During the most dangerous times she could almost hear the rasping of a sandal or the subtle flap of a kimono and her heart leapt with her hands to grab at the sword that was no longer there. She hated her weakness, but she felt the absence of Sode no Shirayuki infinitely more deeply. Rukia wondered if Ichigo could become stronger if she gave him her zanpaktou's name, if he could call her forth as Rukia did. The thought had made her shiver and feverishly yearn for snow.

"So, what's your zanpaktou like compared to mine?" Rukia asked somewhat brusquely in attempt to pretend that the situation that precipitated the question was not soul shatteringly awkward at all. "Now that you've achieved Bankai, I mean." The question was shockingly rude, but Ichigo probably wouldn't notice, Rukia rationalized. Besides, she thought it only fair. She could still feel his fingers on her, as if she had been the hilt in his large hands. She could remember the taste of rotten flesh where she had bitten into the Grand Fisher, the iron in Renji's blood. The high tower with its cold lifeless stone had kept Sode no Shirayuki out, but now all the sensations were there, nestled in the back of her spine and disturbingly foreign.

"The Old Man's a kook." Ichigo answered off handedly as they walked, Rukia flushing at her boldness. "Thinks he's just the coolest shadowy sword around. Fuckin' designer glasses. But I guess that's alright because his Bankai's pretty kick-ass. Can't blame him for wanting to look the part. Dude gives off a real warrior-poet vibe and He's always intoning. Intoning. Intoning. Intoning. All I ever heard from him was "Hurry up, Ichigo" and "You don't have time to be playing here." Tch, like I didn't know that. Solemn as hell. That old man's expectations can get pretty high but I think we've got a good thing, him and me. I do alright. He's got pretty good taste in literature, at least. A little heavy on the sonnets if you ask me, though." Ichigo shrugged.

"Heard from him? You mean you can't hear him anymore?" Rukia blurted in alarm.

Ichigo rolled his eyes, kicking a pebble in disgust, "Fucker hasn't talked to me since execution day. He's clamed up and sulking."

"Bankai means complete mastery over your zanpaktou," Rukia mused, "Maybe circumstances required him to rush and now he's regretting his subordination?"

Ichigo shrugged mutely.

"B-but what's he like compared to mine?" Rukia flushed again, fingers twitching to run and hide in her sleeves where they could writhe where he couldn't see.

"Eh? Yours? Don't know. Never knew it."

Rukia fingers withdrew from her sleeves, "Oh."

"Yeah. I must be an idiot or something because I never knew she was even there."

"Oh."

Their footsteps scraped loudly across the ground.

"Liar. If you're going to lie, you shouldn't make mistakes like calling her "she". And I'm not a kook." Zangetsu intoned.

"Shut up," Ichigo responded to his inner self, "Girl doesn't want to know her soul was all tangled up in me, doing who knows what with you. Besides, I thought you weren't even talking to me."

Zangetsu manifested, pacing in dissatisfaction around the girl blind to his presence. "I gave you power to get her back. You didn't. Until you do, I think I prefer my own company."

"I saved Rukia."

"I meant Sode no Shirayuki."

"Well we can't do much about that, old man."

"Yes we can, Ichigo. If you would only try to…"

"Hell, no."

Zangetsu slumped slightly before disintegrating back into Ichigo's shadow. "I pray you grow up soon, Kurosaki Ichigo but I fear I will be waiting until Rukia attains Bankai until my desires become manifest."

"If you're just going to sigh like a lovestruck little girl, really, don't talk to me. Go write some sappy poetry and keep it to yourself."

"It will be a mountain by the time I can read it to her," Zangetsu moaned beseechingly.

Ichigo's scowl deepened.

"So cruel…" Zangetsu sighed before going silent.

The two walked together for some time and then departed for their separate worlds. They said thank you before they left for family home and division headquarters. Only thank you, because it was hardly goodbye.

Epilouge:

"Bare feet delicate

As slivers of moon shining

Curved as… curved as…

Ichigo, what is a three syllable word to express the most exquisite curve of the back of a lady's neck?"

The clock read 3:00 AM. Ichigo stared haggardly at the red light before screaming into his pillow. Zangetsu remained curled in the closet, twirling his pen in thought.

"No? I can add in another syllable later then. How about two? Maybe another of the Bard's sonnets will get your vocabulary flowing:

O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends
For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed?
Both truth and beauty on my love depends;
So dost thou too, and therein dignified…"

Ichigo made a beaten sound and responded,

"Bare feet delicate

As the soft treading of my

Small heart's blushing beat."

Zangetsu paused for a moment muttering something about how that was not the direction he had intended the piece to go but happily wrote it down anyway. "I think you're getting better at this, Ichigo. The last line was especially well crafted. You should read this one to Rukia, I'm sure…"

Ichigo slammed his head against the wall with the fervor of a caged animal and fell blissfully into unconsciousness.