Ukitake returned to his quarters in the late afternoon to find Hisana on the terrace overlooking the lake. She had left the fur stole inside. The fine kimono framed every angle of her body and, in this light, she seemed exquisitely fragile. Her hair was unkempt, falling into her eyes. It was, he thought, just possible that she had no idea how beautiful she was.

"Come inside. It's cold," he said. She started, turned towards him briefly, then returned her eyes to the water. "Come inside, Hisana. We can talk things through."

"I have nothing to say. I don't want to be – me." He stood very still, waiting to see if she would say more, and when she didn't, he whispered:

"You cannot change where you come from."

"No. I want to be stronger. I want to be braver. I want to be kinder."

Ukitake frowned:

"I will talk to Kuchiki-sensei. He will see reason."

"No. It's me. That's all. I'm the one that always walks away. In Rukongai, it was the same. Whenever I was scared, I'd leave and start again somewhere else. I thought everything had changed, but it's the same. I'm the same. He asked me to leave and I left." She turned to look at the white-haired man standing in the doorway. That sense of looking at her world through a pane of glass had returned. This time, she let it envelope her. She was not a part of Ukitake's world; not a part of Byakuya's. That way, his answer to her next question would hurt her less: "He's not coming back, is he?"

Ukitake blinked:

"Hisana" –

"If it was the other way around, he would weep for me."

"A person's compassion is not measured by the tears they cry," he said, frowning: "My division are leaving tonight for the world of the living. If we can find him, we will."

"I'll be gone by then," she said, and she stepped past him, back into the house. He stared after her, then leant against the railings of the terrace and furrowed his brow at the moon:

"Where are you going to go?"

"Back to Rukongai. One way or another," she said from inside: "I came here for a change of clothes."

"I thought you weren't going to walk away again."

There was a moment's silence and then she reappeared, silhouetted against the light from inside:

"That's not what I said. I only said that I do always do. That's the kind of person I am."

"Is that what you want?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Still, I'd like to know. What do you want, Hisana?" His question kept her in the doorway. With an effort, she looked away:

"Like I said: to be better, braver, kinder. Less hateful" –

"Hisana" –

"Don't pity me!"

"It's hard to be the person who fights for what they believe in. Byakuya took a great risk in bringing you back from Rukongai. He risked his honour as well as the dangers he must have faced in finding you."

"Do you think this is making me feel better?" she turned and, this time, Ukitake followed her back into the richly furnished room where she had opened one of the cupboards and was staring at the clothes.

"I'm not telling you this to make you feel better. Or worse, for that matter. I'm telling you this because, if you know Byakuya, then you know how much his honour means to him. You know that he would kill to defend it. So the man who would risk everything because he has fallen in love with the wrong woman – well, that's not the kind of man that Byakuya is." Very slowly, she turned towards him, her eyes a deep cobalt blue in the firelight: "What I'm saying, Hisana, is that you don't have to be the right kind of person. We don't have to be strong or brave or even kind all of the time. But at the right time – so long as we can be all of those things at the right time."

"But I've already messed this up so much," she said quietly.

"You may be right," he said with a sigh. She fell silent. He padded over to the doorway: "Well then, that being the case, I shall go and find some suitable clothes for you, my Lady." And, with a bow, he left. She sat down by the hearth, wondering if she would cry again, but the tears wouldn't seem to come. After a few minutes, Ukitake returned: "There you go." He laid out the clothes in front of her. She stared:

"What are these for?"

"I thought you might want to come with us tonight. Perhaps it's the right time."

"Wha – what do you mean?" It was a uniform: a juban, kimono and hakama. All that was missing was the sword.

"Well, I can't allow you to travel with us in your current attire. We have certain standards."

"I can't wear this!"

"I think you'll find it fits you."

"But I'm not a shinigami!"

"No, you're not," he said, his expression becoming serious: "And your purpose will be a simple one. If there is any danger, any hazard, any possibility of injury, then you will leave that to us. You have one objective and that is to find Byakuya."

"But" –

"There's no trace of his spiritual pressure or that of the men who were with him. We know that much, so we cannot use our usual methods to track him."

"Then how could I possibly find him?"

"I don't know, Hisana. But you've found each other before. I'm willing to put a little faith in that."

Hisana reached out and touched the coarse fabric of the shihakusho. She couldn't. She knew she couldn't. And this was like some terrible joke. At any time now, the screen door would slide back and his comrades would fall inside in a heap, laughing at her. But he just stood there: yet another arrogant, beautiful captain: "Get changed quickly now. We don't have much time."