Look at me.

Raising her Asauchi for power but not enough to expose herself to counterattack, Tsukiko struck at her sparring partner. He stepped back as he dodged, but Tsukiko did not give him the room to come back to her: she pursued.

Just look at me.

She was a fighter, a Shinigami, something to be proud of. She could fight in the howling wind and pounding rain without issue, perhaps even better because of the added challenge.

Please look at me.

Yes, she'd disappointed Captain Kuchiki and broken his rules, but he had to see that she was willing to make up for it. That she'd walk to the ends of the earth to regain his trust. That she knew she was wrong and wanted him to let her know it was okay to feel right again.

If only he would look at her.

Just look at me! Tsukiko nearly shouted this time, her voice echoing in her mind as the field sounded with ringing metal.

Look! At! Me!

With each word, she slammed her Asauchi against her opponent's Zanpaku-to, pressing him further back only to approach once more, rendering the match little more than a cat and mouse game. Maybe if she pushed the duel far enough, Captain Kuchiki would notice they were making use of the entire field like in a real fight, where you made room without care for the things and people around you. Then he would look at her, let her see what he had in store behind those gray eyes of his. What punishment he deemed fair.

"Hokutan, watch it!" her opponent shouted, backing away from her. "Not the face!"

Shaking her head once, Tsukiko forced herself to press back this time, at last giving her partner the opportunity, limited as it was, to gain the offensive.

Besides, her nape had started to prickle.

Turning the fight to look in the other direction, Tsukiko quickly glanced over her opponent's shoulder: though the rain came down in sheets, there was no mistaking that spike of red through the gray and white mass of weather. She'd learned to find it between lantern light, under a dark new moon. Where once holding hands was a taboo. Where embracing each other became familiar. Where one, just one, kiss had bloomed.

They were about to have their second when Ichika ruined everything.

Again Tsukiko's duel spun around, and though Renji went out of her sight, the hairs on the back of her neck did not at all relax. Just as her duel was winding down, the hairs stood even straighter, and against her better judgement, Tsukiko looked behind her.

Much to her shock, Renji's jasper eyes contained zero sympathy or gruff reassurance. In fact, his entire body language didn't acknowledge anything about their shared fate. All Tsukiko saw was remorse, with, of all things, anger filling in what spaces remained—in other words, he was blaming her.

What?

Right on cue, the flat of her opponent's Zanpaku-to slammed into her arm, and Tsukiko shouted out in more surprise than pain.

"Switch partners!" Captain Kuchiki's voice shouted over the wind.

"The hell happened, Hokutan? You nearly won," Tsukiko's opponent said before bowing out of the match.

Tsukiko bowed back, but immediately she turned back to Renji, who was still staring at her with that horrid disappointment. Just what the hell had she done?

Ruin his life, Tsukiko heard herself reply. Isn't that what Ichika said?

…But would the man she'd grown so close to in the last month really believe that?

Between Renji's mysterious anger and Captain Kuchiki's maddening refusal to acknowledge her, the weather was the only reliable thing Tsukiko had to depend on. The rain only came down in greater droves as drills went on, and the wind's gusts grew sharper, stinging everything from her eyes to her bare hands as they gripped her Asauchi and later fired off Kido after Kido. It was no longer unusual for a sudden splat to break through the spell blasts as a squad member fell in the rapidly growing mud puddles, and it was all Tsukiko could do to keep the kickback of her Kido from throwing her down to join them.

Just as she was starting to think she'd never know dry clothing (or a decent relationship with authority) again, Captain Kuchiki ended the morning's wet, slippery training. Tsukiko sighed deeply as she dared one final look at Captain Kuchiki. He still wouldn't look at her, his gaze instead landing on Renji. The wind hid from her any words they may have exchanged, but Renji's slow lope to the captain's side prepared her just enough for when Captain Kuchiki at last shouted, "Hokutan, my office!"

Ignoring the renewed sense of guilt, Tsukiko stayed put while her superiors moved ahead of her. It was with her first step some paces after them that she realized she was shaking, with the weather only partly to blame. Not even the heat of the building once they were inside stayed it.

Just as Tsukiko turned down the hallway to Captain Kuchiki's office, her Zanpaku-to spirit shoved her harder than ever, and she barely caught herself on the wall. Please, not now, Tsukiko told it, though she couldn't help but feel she was only talking to herself.

Except there was a response: once again, her Zanpaku-to shoved her, this time nearly pressing her against the wall.

You're not helping! Tsukiko shouted at the spirit. Do you really think the captain needs anymore reason to hate me today?

Evidently the spirit thought yes, for with each step she took, her Zanpaku-to pushed her against the wall opposite Captain Kuchiki's office, as if creating as much distance as possible between her and her fate. Much to Tsukiko's relief, however, it completely stopped once she was standing before the office's open door, and she glanced inside to find Captain Kuchiki standing before the doorframe, his drenched shihakusho having formed small puddles all around him.

"At last, the other half of the issue," the captain said, his voice hoarse from shouting over the wind.

Tsukiko swallowed hard. All throughout training she'd been silently begging for his attention, and now here it was, silent and terrible. Bowing her head slightly, she moved into the office and loudly reminded herself not to flinch when Captain Kuchiki slammed the door closed behind her, throwing water droplets everywhere. Renji was standing before the captain's desk, equally as surrounded by minute puddles but glaring a hole into the wall. Tsukiko walked up to his side and looked away from him. Instead, she glanced out the window, watched the rain continue to pour.

Captain Kuchiki stationed himself behind his desk, blocking her view and causing her stomach to drop. "I might remind you two," he said, his voice low, "that this squad operates on very particular standards. Given that one of you is a lieutenant and the other willingly applied to Squad Six, I would expect you to be familiar with those standards." His eyes narrowed. "And yet, you have both failed my expectations. In fact, you have riddled them so full of holes I might never fully patch them again. And you only have yourselves to blame."

Panic bloomed in Tsukiko's chest, and her cheeks began to burn harder than she thought possible. No matter her irritation with him, she and Renji had been caught, and as the superior, his punishment was going to be far worse than hers—and hers wasn't going to be gentle.

"C-captain," she began, "please—"

"Silence," Captain Kuchiki said. "I warn you both that from this moment on, by no means is your relationship to be anything but professional. This squad is built on integrity and loyalty, and I will not have it threatened by passion-fueled trials and tribulations between two individuals whom I expect to uphold those values." Captain Kuchiki glared at Renji. "I thought you knew better, Abarai. If you mean to date once more, fish outside your own pool." He turned his glare at Tsukiko, and she didn't even try to hide her flinch this time. "You have earned yourself laundry duty for two weeks and four laps for the squad tomorrow morning. May that teach you not to pursue that which you cannot have."

It was not at all difficult to imagine herself slowly being buried alive by mounds of stinking shihakusho, continuously shed by her nearly two hundred squad fellows. But far easier for Tsukiko to understand was the shame at bringing the most despised punishment not just on herself, but the whole squad. It was one thing to bear her consequences alone, but another entirely to drag the rest of the squad into this mess. It would seem that if she threatened Squad Six's loyalty, the captain made sure everyone knew just how disloyal she'd been.

Bowing low as she accepted her fate, Tsukiko dared whisper, "Forgive me, Captain Kuchiki. I will not fail you again."

The captain's eyes narrowed just once in acknowledgement. "Return to my office this afternoon," he said, his tone just slightly mellowing. "Perhaps I shall have—"

"Hypocrite."

For the briefest of moments, the only sound was the rain pounding on the roof. Wide-eyed, Tsukiko stared at Renji, and his face was tight with anger.

Captain Kuchiki looked at his lieutenant. "Excuse me?" he said.

Renji stood up straighter. "You're a hypocrite," he said. His voice was pointed, determined. "You tell me that my relationship with Tsukiko threatens the squad, but it's okay for your own relationship with her to change your entire captaincy?" His voice rose on the last word.

Tsukiko didn't dare speak as Captain Kuchiki crossed his arms. "I hardly see the comparison, Abarai. In what way have I changed my leadership—"

"Personal training?" Renji said, taking a step closer but finding his way blocked by the desk. "Having it take place at your house? Telling Tsukiko to come back later after you just punished her? You really thought you were subtle, but Ichika told me the truth. You only wanted to train Tsukiko because she's your daughter, and you let her mess around with Renji the Rukon rat because that's what you nobles do." He whipped his head around to glare at Tsukiko. "Guess it must feel nice to screw over the lower class, eh? Do your family proud?"

Her shame morphing into fear, Tsukiko looked to Captain Kuchiki, searching for any bit of reason in a world that had suddenly taken a sharp turn.

Except Captain Kuchiki's brow rose high, his eyes growing wide in horror.

…Horror?

"I really don't think this is just casual interest in training you," Emi's voice spoke in her mind.

Renji's face faltered only slightly. "Well?" he said. "Got anything to say for—"

Tsukiko fell to her knees, hard, as Renji cut off. This time, it certainly wasn't her Zanpaku-to's fault. It couldn't possibly carry this much might, make the air thick with being, crush the life right out of her and press her lungs so she couldn't even try to inhale. No, Tsukiko may never reach this level, for this was the pure weight of a captain. His lecture moments ago, only mere words, could hardly compare to this display of power. But her lungs….

Just as Captain Kuchiki's reiatsu had come crashing down, it lifted, and Tsukiko pulled in loud gasps of air, gulping it in without even exhaling.

Between gasps, she heard snippets of words as Captain Kuchiki bowed over his desk at Renji. "Who do you think…absolutely not…ignorant…doesn't know…destroy you…."

The words meant nothing to her, so intent was she on just breathing. She didn't even register Captain Kuchiki was now standing beside her until he crouched down to her level and she met the gray of his eyes—

Gray eyes.

She had gray eyes.

No, Tsukiko told herself firmly. Ridiculous.

"You're coming with me," Captain Kuchiki said. His tone was not stern, but there was no doubting that note of power, and she recoiled at the thought of what lay behind it.

"Y-yes sir," Tsukiko managed to say, and moving slowly, she stood back on her feet.

Somewhere behind her, Renji's voice traveled over to her. "Tsukiko, I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't—"

Captain Kuchiki glanced over her shoulder. "Enough out of you." He looked back at her, and again she found his, her, their gray eyes.

"I must show you something," Captain Kuchiki said. "Immediately."

She would throw herself off Sokyoku Hill if it meant avoiding another display of his power.

Not once looking at Renji, Tsukiko followed her captain out of his office.

A servant met them at the front door of the manor with towels, but Captain Kuchiki swatted her away. "Never mind that," he barked, and Tsukiko flinched on the servant's behalf. "This way, Tsukiko."

Offering the frowning servant a nervous, apologetic look, Tsukiko followed him, trying not to think about the muddy trail they were leaving or the fact he was still using her personal name. However, she soon became preoccupied with keeping up with Captain Kuchiki at all, as they were crossing through parts of the manor she'd never visited. The air in this wing was stiff and guarded, as if rejecting her intrusion, and anxious lightning laced through her arms at the thought of getting lost.

At last, they entered a dark room full of shelves replete with scrolls, books, and modern binders. Captain Kuchiki flipped on a light switch, bathing the room in dim light. "Stay here," he said as he progressed further into the room.

"Y-yes sir." Even if she'd been dry, Tsukiko would not have wanted to move past the doorframe. She knew the Kuchiki family kept records of the Soul Society's goings on, and while the captain had offered no confirmation, she was willing to believe this was at least part of the collection. Daring to peer beyond a row of shelving, Tsukiko couldn't even see the other end of the room, so expansive was it. When she looked down another row, a large desk stood near one of the room's windowless walls—

No view of the garden, which she'd seen as a near infant—

Yes, she forced herself to think, this has to be the record room, or one of many.

"Tsukiko," Captain Kuchiki called out, his voice muffled by the shelves, "did your grandmother ever tell you about your parents?"

Tsukiko swallowed. "N-not much, sir," she responded. It felt like she was breaking a rule, speaking before the history around her and the unpredictable man who archived it. "S-she said my father did bookkeeping for some of the nearby businesses, and I think my mother did charity work in the lower districts."

Captain Kuchiki's response almost brought her to her knees, just as his reiatsu had done: "That is a lie."

Leaning carefully against the windowless wall, her soaked shihakusho be damned, Tsukiko managed to let out a nervous "s-sir?"

Captain Kuchiki rounded the corner of a shelf, holding a book away from his own wet shihakusho. "Your parents may have had occupations similar to those," he said, walking past her toward the desk, "but that was not the exact nature of their work." He set the book down on the desk and waved her over with an impatient hand.

Tsukiko swallowed again as she made her way over to him. "Did you know them, s-sir?"

"In a manner of speaking," Captain Kuchiki said. He opened the books, but paused when the hair hanging from his kenseikan threatened to drip over it. Standing up straight again, he reached for the hair ornament, and with a pair of clicks, the kenseikan was in his hands and then on the desk. He briefly ran his hands through his bangs, freeing them of the kenseikan's mold, before tucking the hair behind his ear, safely away from the book.

Tsukiko grabbed the edge of the desk as she looked at what could very well have been her own profile.

Same eyes, same face—same palate for crying out loud—

"No," she said aloud.

Captain Kuchiki glanced at her. "Pardon?"

"N-nothing, sir."

His eyes lingered for just a moment before returning to the book. He flipped through its pages and stopped somewhere in the middle. The left-hand page had a header that read "December," while the right-hand page had no such header; Tsukiko assumed it represented late November. Captain Kuchiki's hands covered the rest of the pages' content.

"Tsukiko," Captain Kuchiki said, "there is something you need to know."

Tsukiko eyed him carefully. "Captain?"

He raised a hand for her silence. "Tsukiko, regrettably I..." He faltered. "I...have not been completely honest with you since you came to join Squad Six. I know that as captain I ask much of you, but at this time, I ask one more thing: listen to me from start to finish." He brought his eyes to her, stone gray meeting stone gray.

The room, marked only by the sound of raindrops on the roof, was quiet.

Captain Kuchiki began. "If I am entirely honest, I had reservations about letting you into my squad. Through no fault of your own, you are the epitome of a series of memories I gave up many years ago. It was not a decision I would have liked to make, but as circumstances had it, it was something that needed to be done. Now that everything is to come out..." He closed his eyes before opening them again, his eyes set in fierce resolve. "First and foremost, your family name is not Hokutan, but Kuchiki. Your true name is Kuchiki Tsukiko. You were delivered by the former Captain Unohana herself in a room just on the other side of these grounds, and you were destined to become a proper member of the nobility."

"Captain?" There was a note of panic in her voice she didn't remember arising.

"Let me finish." He took a quiet, but deep, breath. "Your mother's death just months after your birth tampered with these plans. Your father in his grief all but forgot he had a child to raise, and though you were not uncared for, you had, in effect, lost both your parents." Another deep breath. "Your father knew he could no longer be the parent he should be. You had your privileges, and would grow up to find many more, but no matter the money, no matter the private tutors, no matter the grandeur of what it means to be a Kuchiki, you still didn't have your parents. Your mother was dead, and your father was too occupied with working and grieving, grieving and working..." He fell into silence, though he clearly had so much more to say, to admit.

Blissfully, or perhaps most horribly, Tsukiko did not want the silence to last. That gave her too much time to think, remember all Emi had ever said about not trusting Captain Kuchiki's motives, her own realizations, the something darker than panic that was suddenly threatening to bubble up from inside her.

When she spoke, she kept her voice respectful, but sharp, a blade of inquiry; it sounded familiar to her, despite her wish for it not to. "S-so he gave me up, is what you're saying," she said. "M-my father found a woman in Rukongai who was willing to adopt me, and now here I am, learning about all this…."

"Mostly correct." Captain Kuchiki's hands moved to the late November page. With one, he covered part of the page, and with the other, he pointed to an event that occurred on the twenty-ninth of the month. Tsukiko knew what it said before she even read it:

Kuchiki Tsukiko (F): born at 21:14 on Kuchiki grounds to parents Kuchiki

Captain Kuchiki's hand covered her parents' names.

"…What are you hiding, Captain?" Tsukiko said, more of that darker-than-panic building inside her.

In one smooth motion, Captain Kuchiki closed the book. "This way," he said, his own voice carrying tones she'd never heard in it before:

Guilt. Mercy. Yearning.

As if pursuing a lantern in a dark forest, Tsukiko followed her captain out of the record room and into another part of the manor she'd never seen before. The air in these rooms was more relaxed, though only just. Even the rain was slowing as if in deference to the rigidity of the place. When they stopped before a closed door, it was like Captain Kuchiki had selected a room at random, and Tsukiko nearly ran into his back. Visibly steeling himself, he opened the door and stepped inside.

Following him in, the room revealed itself to be a home office. There was absolutely nothing spectacular about the bookshelf along one of the walls or the calligraphy scroll, reading noble reasoning, across from it. What did catch Tsukiko's eye was the blue-green scarf on the opposite wall, pinned there like a stream of water. It was a bright contrast to the desk beneath it…the desk….

He was writing on a sheet of paper, and she was desperately trying to grab the end of the pen. Her father's deep voice rumbled from his chest as he told her to let him write….

He had been writing in this room. At that desk.

Deliberately, cautiously, Captain Kuchiki turned to face her, the book still in his hands. His eyes had fallen, knowing the exact nature of the nail he'd just hammered into her coffin.

At last, the darker-than-panic could not be restrained, and it flooded through her veins like black ice. It lifted her shoulders into aloof attentiveness. It pulled her mouth down in set observance, stilled her shaking hands with a quiet shush. Lastly, it drew the curtain over her stone gray eyes, proving to the man before her just how much of him she'd inherited.

At last, Tsukiko spoke. "You," she said, definitive.

She watched her father nod just once. "Me."

Though the rain continued to fall, weak, white sunshine broke through the clouds and poured through the windows, filling the room with a beautiful glow neither of them could appreciate.