CHAPTER 3: WAIFS AND STRAYS

They were a disparate group: three humans, two shinigami and, to Rukia's initial consternation, four hollow. Rukia's experiences with hollow were fairly limited to kill or be-killed. Gillian-class hollow, the demons with which she was most familiar, were animalistic and lacking in intelligence. Some were barely sentient. She had learnt though, that the more highly evolved they became, the closer they were to human levels of consciousness. The four who travelled with Ichigo showed varying degrees of self-awareness, but by far the most puzzling amongst them was a human-like child, which went by the name of Nel. If her appearance was anything to go by, she was about four years old. Her hair was pale blue, hacked short: no doubt, by one of her comrades. Atop her head, a cracked and partial hollow mask rested, taming clumps of her hair and framing a wild and smiling face. Ichigo had saved her from the sand monster, she claimed. Rukia didn't doubt it. That was usually the way that Ichigo picked up waifs and strays. No-one else seemed too troubled by the fact that they were now travelling with something that was clearly a miniature arrancar, for nothing else could explain the human-like appearance of the small girl or the broken mask. The three other hollows were her companions, or subordinates. One was tall and bipedal with an unbroken rodent-like skull; a second looked as if it had been fashioned entirely from a giant potato chip of yellow bone with two legs grafted onto its base. Both of these, she judged to be ordinary gillian, capable of communication, even conversation, but largely limited by their evolution. The third was the basest of them and it was treated as a pet by the other two: it resembled a giant eel, and it was this one that had proved the most useful since Nel had been only too pleased to show them how it was possible to ride the creature over the sands towards Aizen's base, las Noches.

These three hollow would take no action unless they were ordered to do so by Nel. It was a topsy-turvy hierarchy: three powerful demons controlled and coddled by a small child. At first, Rukia was uncomfortable in their presence, but, as time went on, she became accustomed to their eccentricities. Nel doted on Ichigo. So long as he was well, nothing else in the world seemed to matter to her, and so it seemed, they were safe for now. It occurred to Rukia that, abandoned in the wasteland of Hueco Mundo, there was every possibility that she was, in fact, a failed experiement of Sosuke Aizen's.

A few nights into their journey, Renji called Rukia aside:

"Should we kill her?" he asked.

They were a little distance from the camp where Chad and Uryu were engaged in cooking them all some tea. Ichigo was sitting, cross-legged, beside the fire, the little arrancar crawling over his lap. Now and again, she tugged experimentally at the strap of his sword. He was talking to Uryu, but, suddenly deciding she wasn''t getting enough attention, Nel reached up and pulled a tuft of his orange hair, eliciting a cry of pain. She grinned toothlessly.

"Seems like a kid to me," said Rukia.

"That doesn't change the facts though, does it. I mean, we're shinigami; she's a hollow."

"Do you want to kill her?"

"No. I just thought" –

"You want me to kill her?"

"Well, I can't kill a child, and you're a woman, so I thought" –

"You realise how wrong that is, on so many levels, right?" she asked. He gave her a blythe smile and she withered it with a glance.

"Are you taking watch tonight, Rukia?"

"Can do."

She watched as Ichigo caught the little arrancar by her ankles and turned her upside down, shaking her gently. Nel squealed with delight and burst into a torrent of giggles.

"Speaking of kids," said Renji: "He seems like a natural, doesn't he?"

"Ichigo?" She stiffened and glanced over to see if he was mocking her somehow. It didn't seem so: "I guess so. He has a family."

"Isn't he a bit young?"

"What? No, you oaf, he has sisters."

"You're blushing. Did you know that? You're cute when you blush."

"Go and die somewhere, Renji."

"Someday, maybe. Not tonight." He leant back. The sky was full of strange constellations. They were both thoughtful for a time.

"You think he can have kids?" she asked at last: "Now that he's a shinigami? I mean, what would that make them?"

"Little pains in the arse," he said. When she didn't respond though, he sat forward: "Where do you even find the time to worry about this stuff? We just have to get to the end of tomorrow without getting killed. That's all that matters. It's all that has ever mattered, since we were kids. Hey" – he touched her arm – "Look over there, right? That's the edge of the slums where we grew up." He pointed to a blank point on the horizon and she stared. "And that's the path that wound up to the barn where we hung out. I guess that fell into ruin years ago. But Inuzuri's still there: the alley that went all the way out of Seventy-Eighth and down to the docks without passing any checkpoints. Do you remember that? And they used to set up the market, right there." He pointed. She could see everything he was describing in her mind's eye. Their childhood domain had been the rooftops of Inuzuri and its dilapidated alleyways. It was all still there, safe in her memory. "And we're here too," he said: "Against the odds."

She leant up against his arm. It felt like something solid in a rapidly-shifting world. He was right; it was comforting to think that some things simply could not change.

"I need you to promise me something," she said softly and he stiffened.

"Uh-uh. Tell me what it is. Then get to the bit where I promise." His voice was gruff. Her eyes pleaded with him from the level of his shoulder. "Don't give me that look."

"There's something I have to do and you have to promise you're not going to stop me." He narrowed his eyes:

"No. I don't think so."

"Renji, it's important."

"I don't make promises I can't keep."

"Please. I want to do things right this time." Her voice was soft and sincere. Her unblinking eyes bored into him and he wondered how he was meant to do anything in light of their depth and colour. She had the uncanny ability to drain his willpower until he was rendered powerless. In fact, he might have sworn it was some kind of kido she was using on him.

"Alright," he said after a time: "So what is it?"

And then she smiled, which was, after all, the point of all things. "What are you gonna do, Rukia?" he asked as she unfolded from his side and started down the gentle slope towards the campfire. He had fallen in love with her for the courage she carried with her sometimes. She needed no ornament: silver and gold would tarnish in light of that conviction. When she had her heart set on something, it would burn you as surely as any fire. It was a rare thing to find in anyone. "Fine, don't tell me!" he called after her, and he realised he was grinning, not because he wasn't worried, but because she wasn't. "Stubborn bitch," he muttered and looked around as if he might find somebody to share his jubilation with. There was no-one. He settled back in the sand with a grunt of satisfaction: "Guess I'm taking watch then."