A/N: CW: This chapter contains descriptions of blood, bodily injury, and injury cleanup/aftercare.

Her dreams were senseless, shifting things that brought her everywhere from the Kuchiki gardens to a hospital wing, from a cemetery to Food Alley. Hardly did the first setting appear before it altered again, and in her dreaming, she followed unquestioningly.

As natural as the breeze, the scene morphed into Hokutan, with her walking down the street to her and Baa-san's house. Dream-vague though they were, the road was swept clean and the sky was clear. Her house was the only one visible. Of course, its door was a deep green when it had always been brown, but this was not important. The only thing that mattered was that this was her house, and so she strode forward, ready for Baa-san's embrace and the comfort of return.

But when she opened the door, she was not home. Before her was a wide forest path, loosened leaves and sticks covering its dark, slightly damp earth. The grass framing the path was a darker green than she'd ever known grass to be, bordering on blue, and the sticks and twigs were black, though they did not smell of rot; rather, the air carried a note of rust. But the oblong leaves coating the path were the most unusual: while they were in varying stages of decomposition, all were based on the same shade of bronze. The oldest were closer to bracken black, and the newest gleamed like polished pewter.

She stopped. She knew these leaves….

It was not a mystery of where the leaves and twigs came from, for proud trees stretched into her line of sight from either side of the path. Their shaggy outer bark was the same black as the sticks, though it peeled back in jagged strips to reveal dark carmine. Their leaves, alive and thriving, were metallic bronze in all hues. They contrasted sharply with the tree trunks, and even more so with the purple, starless sky lit by an orange moon. Into an incomprehensible distance the trees went, a truly endless forest.

She set one foot on the path, and when the world did not react, she stepped forward with the other—only for a chilling gust of coppery wind to throw her hair and clothing all about her. Raising her hands to her face, she realized she'd moved entirely too quick to be dreaming, and her mind immediately woke.

But she didn't.

Tsukiko whirled around as the wind died away, but the door she'd come through was gone. In its place was the other end of the path, framed by more black, red, and bronze trees. When she turned back, the path was the same. She was definitely not dreaming anymore, and now that she was as awake as possible, she fully recognized the bronze leaves.

"Hello?" she called out, only to jump at hearing a tinny quality to her voice, as though she were speaking into a large room lined with metal. Her eyes glancing at the trees, she took another step forward; her bare feet came to rest on natural earth and soft leaves.

Proceeding forward, Tsukiko cleared her throat. "Ki, is this what I think it is?" she said, louder. Her voice was again tinny as it echoed out further. There was still no response. But for all the seeming solitude, she couldn't say she was afraid. She might not have seen these strange woods before, but they were…familiar.

Again Tsukiko's eyes returned to the trees. Their leaves glowed in the twilight, brighter than in her dreaming and meditating. Legacy told her not to touch the leaves, so it was carefully that she moved off the path and into the plush grass. More fallen leaves cushioned her feet as she approached the nearest tree, but there was no telling what a low-hanging branch full of the living bronze would do.

She gasped as a sharp pain sliced across the bottom of her left foot.

Quickly lifting her foot from the ground, Tsukiko brushed away the leaves and minute twigs that stuck to it. Some came away red, and it didn't take long to see why: large gashes had been pressed into her foot. Cursing quietly, she scanned the ground for what could have hurt her, but finding no abandoned knife, no hunting snare in the thick grass, she hopped one-footed away from the tree and whatever did cut her and sat down to further inspect the damage. She crossed her left leg over her right, finding that while the cuts were not especially deep, the ones on the foot's soft arch bled profusely, unprotected by calluses. Flustered, Tsukiko closed her eyes as another rust-scented breeze whipped her hair around her head.

Opening her eyes to return to her injuries, Tsukiko nearly screamed: a black-haired man on all fours was leering down at her foot.

"W-who are you?" she shouted, shifting away from the man, only to cry out when her grabbing right hand sang: just as suddenly as her foot, her palm and fingers had been sliced open as well.

Slowly, the man's gaze rose from her foot to her face. Tsukiko gasped as she cradled her hand close to her chest: His hair and porcelain skin might have been shades akin to her own, but there was nothing familiar about his eyes. The blue irises were so light they were practically white, almost blending in with the sclera to give him a feral expression. His pupils constricted as he registered her fear, and the smallest of smiles pulled at his lips.

"I'll admit, I'm hurt you don't recognize me," he said.

Tsukiko's heart was throwing itself against her ribs. He'd spoken in Ki's voice. But this couldn't be….

"Ki?" she whispered, the one syllable cracking like wood in her throat.

The man's smile slowly faded. "Tsukiko…."

There were suddenly tears in her eyes, though where they came from, she couldn't say. It wasn't like she'd had certain expectations for her Zanpaku-to's spirit. She was hardly dismayed by the black and carmine robes that bedecked his slender form, and his black hair, so long that even in its high ponytail it flowed down his back, was a texture just like her own. So why should her eyes burn with tears? Why should she grasp for words that just wouldn't come?

"Oh, Ki," she managed to say.

Ki's blue-white eyes turned back to her foot, and with the litheness of a prowling tiger, he crawled closer to her. With a single finger—Tsukiko tried not to pull away when she saw his pale nails were points—he pushed her left foot over to expose the bleeding underside. He scrutinized the gashes in serene silence, but there was a disconcerting urgency in his gaze. Indeed, Ki's mouth parted when a particularly large drop of blood slid down the top of Tsukiko's heel, and while he showed no sign of moving toward her foot, there was no mistaking the pulling of his lips into an appreciative smile, the revealing of his overlong canines and their frighteningly sharp points.

Like iron yanked away from a magnet, Ki's eyes wrenched away from her injured foot to her injured hand, and before Tsukiko had even registered he'd moved, he had taken her hand in his.

"I suppose your foot wasn't enough," he said.

Tsukiko forced a quiet laugh that dropped tears from her eyes, but it morphed into a wince when he tightened his grip on her hand and the cuts that crisscrossed her palm. At this, Ki's bright eyes moved up to her face. His shoulders lifted as he sighed. "You must learn to mind your roots," he said.

"Roots…?" Tsukiko began to ask, only for the word to peter off as Ki raised his free arm and dropped it quickly. At once, thousands of bronze leaves dropped down from the trees and rushed them, bringing with them the heady scent of fresh blood.

"Ki, stop!" Tsukiko shouted as he withdrew his hand from hers. "What do you mean—" She cut off as the leaves pushed past him to surround her and her alone. "Ki!" she called out, trying not to yelp when the leaves touched her, though they did not cut her.

As if oblivious to her, Ki was nonchalantly admiring his palm, tilting it carefully in the twilight; she could see it bore her blood.

"Ki!" she pled as the leaves pressed in ever closer, their scent nearly suffocating her.

So subtly she almost missed it through the thrashing, rattling leaves, Ki shook his head as he brought his hand closer to his face. "That's not my name," he said quietly.

The last thing she saw before the leaves overwhelmed her was Ki kneeling on the ground, licking her blood from his palm.

Tsukiko's eyes shot open to the shadowed ceiling above, where the only color was the white of the moon outside the barracks. Her hands clenched the blanket tight as she inhaled the room's blood-free air, over and over again, but the agony of the nightmare refused to abate. It took her several seconds to realize this was because her right hand was still screaming.

Oh gods, it had actually happened. The trees, the leaves, her blood on Ki's palm and then on his tongue—

Wiping her wet eyes on her sleeve, Tsukiko sat up and held her bleeding hand in the brightest patch of moonlight she could catch. Blood was pooling into the grooves of her palm, running down her arm and starting to drip…drip…drip onto her white bedsheets.

"Fuck," Tsukiko whispered into the snore-filled barracks. She threw the blanket off and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, making sure never to set her left foot flat on the floor; it wasn't offering her pain just yet, but she could already feel the cool wetness of the blood that covered it.

Walking on the edge of her foot, Tsukiko limped from the barracks. Her foot immediately protested the movement, and she could feel it slipping from the blood, but this only hastened her toward the showers. Even with the hall lights dimmed for the night, she could see the bottom of her foot was completely red, and she tried not to think about the trail she was leaving behind. She'd clean it later, whenever that was.

As if determined to put it off, the pain in her foot only worsened, and Tsukiko prayed her movement wasn't opening the cuts further.

After what felt like a century, she finally made it to the showers. Still in her kosode, she turned into the first stall and turned on the water. She yelped as the cold water hit her right in the torso, and she hopped into a corner of the stall to wait out the seconds that may as well have been hours it took for the water to heat.

Steeling herself, Tsukiko stuck her foot into the stream, and she cried out as the water battered the cuts. At once the flow into the drain turned red, and though it was watered down, she couldn't help but notice that her blood was the same shade of carmine as the inner bark of the birches, the accents of Ki's robes.

She really hadn't been dreaming.

Her curses bouncing against the tiled stall as she held the cuts open to wash them, Tsukiko turned her attention inward, to a presence that, if it had once been directly behind her, was now in her peripheral vision, closer but also more aggravating. Ki, what did I cut myself on? she demanded as the water soaked her sleeves.

A pause, then something like a sigh. I told you, that's not my name.

We can worry about that later, she retorted, breathing heavily as the latest wave of pain coursed up her leg. Have I been poisoned? Are my foot and hand about to fall off?

Ah, again she waves me away, Ki drawled. I have offered you sound advice, but only what you want matters.

Answer me! Tsukiko growled, not noticing until she heard the echo that she'd said it aloud. Do I need to get to the Fourth? Remember that if I die, you do too.

Another sigh. No, Ki said. But it would do you some good to remember what I said.

When?

I won't repeat myself.

Scoffing her frustration, Tsukiko let the conversation die and moved on to her hand, hissing all the while. Did that mean she already knew what had cut her? How far back was she even supposed to reflect on what Ki (or whatever his name was) had said? Except, the more she thought about their meeting, the less she remembered his words. She heard his steady commentary, his voice even despite the disappointment so evident in his tone, but not what he said. Her eyes owned that moment. They had seared the memory of Ki's fevered stare and sharp canines into her mind just as deep as the cuts on her hand and foot. Whatever had caused those. Whatever had led to this ball of confusion she both rejected and clung to.

At last, the water running off her palm became clear again, and Tsukiko leaned through the stream to turn it off. Her kosode was now soaked, and the right sleeve was dyed pale pink from where her blood had touched it. Tsukiko sighed at the growing mess; at least she wasn't expected to mop the shower. Leaning against the wall, she lowered herself to the wet floor, running through the healing spells she knew. She murmured the full chant of a low-level incantation, and she brought her uninjured hand to her foot. The Kido hummed and turned the shower stall pale green, but all Tsukiko felt was a nettling itch as the skin of her cuts began to heal over. Beads of blood lined the cuts, which she tried to count before she realized they crisscrossed too much to properly number. In some places the cuts were more like scrapes, but the clearest of these copious injuries were the actual cuts. It was like she'd grazed her foot on small knives set into concrete, momentum dragging her skin across the rough surface. Her hand was much the same, more carved than scraped. But there hadn't been a blade in the grass, or if there had been, she didn't see it glimmer. Had the leaves on the ground been that sharp after all? There was definitely something metal in the forest, and if their color was to be trusted, it could've only been the leaves. Maybe those that had freshly dropped from the trees? She'd been close enough to the trunk of the one for its recently shed leaves to still bear whatever danger they posed while on the branch.

Ki— she began to ask, but she quickly put off the question. She might not remember the words he alluded to, but he'd made it clear that any of those allusions were to remain circular. She'd have to figure it out herself.

Tsukiko glanced at her foot; it was hardly bleeding anymore, and she moved the Kido to her hand, which healed much faster. This work done, Tsukiko carefully rose from the slippery floor. With her uninjured hand, she wrung out what water she could from her kosode, though the attempt was laughable at best. But the second Tsukiko stepped forward from the shower stall, she gasped as some of the cuts on her foot reopened. Not even trying to mute her cursing, she raced from the showers and back out to the hall.

Sick bay was blissfully close, but still Tsukiko limped as fast as she could down the dim hallway. She'd visited the place a handful of times, mostly for ibuprofen or the occasional bandage when sparring went slightly harder than anticipated, but she could already see the boxes of gauze and bandages lining the small but well-stocked supply room, just waiting to bind her wounds and send her back to bed all the quicker. She gripped the handle of the door, but no sooner had she opened it than her eyes met bright, clinical lighting, and she threw her hand up as her pupils adjusted. Not that she kept up with all the goings-on in the squad, but…shouldn't sick bay be empty? She didn't remember any injuries occurring during morning drills that would lead to occupation of the one of the two gurneys, require access to the pharmacy of medical supplies and low-level painkillers.

Lowering her hand to the bright lights and drawing an arm over her chest (only now did she regret not minding the white fabric when she was so close to water), Tsukiko cautiously moved into sick bay proper. Indeed, neither of the gurneys was shielded by curtains or betrayed the moaning of a healing Shinigami, though the door to the supply room was thrown open, revealing more bright light.

Tsukiko moved forward….

"For the love of fuck, Tou-sama, it's just a papercut."

She froze.

A small box of bandages held under her arm, the bandage itself half-applied to her index finger, Ichika walked out of the supply room and glanced up from her work. Her face rose to shock at not finding her father, but as Tsukiko swallowed back the apprehension in her gut, that shock turned into a deep glare. Whether it was a mercy or warning, perhaps even both, Tsukiko did not know.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" Ichika growled.

As if before a wild animal, Tsukiko slowly proffered her right hand, showing the barely healed palm to Ichika. "I need a bandage," she said quietly. Just as carefully, she gestured to her foot, also turned up to display its freshly bleeding wounds. "A couple, actually—"

"That's a weird place to get your period," Ichika said, though whatever humor her statement held was overshadowed by shades of ridicule.

Tsukiko forced a smile. "Probably because my Zanpaku-to did it," she said.

Ichika snorted. "Congratulations." She returned her attention to her finger and finished applying the bandage. "Guess it must've dunked you in a lake too?"

Tsukiko swallowed. "Maybe. Can I—"

"You can fucking wait, how about that?" Ichika retorted, nailing her with a gaze that just dared Tsukiko to oppose her.

Tsukiko did not accept the challenge.

As if disappointed, Ichika sneered and threw the box of bandages over her shoulder, where it bounced against the shelves and smacked onto the floor. "You have a knack for getting involved in things that don't concern you," she said.

Tsukiko remained silent, as much as she wanted to laugh at the irony.

Ichika rolled her eyes as she examined her newly bandaged finger. "Well, okay, maybe this does involve you, but you're just gonna have to see for yourself."

Tsukiko frowned, but still she did not respond. What involved her? Ichika's cut?

"You're lucky I owe your pops a favor—no thanks to you." Ichika rolled her eyes again. "And a big one, I'll have you know. You better fucking—"

"Ichika? You in here?"

Tsukiko leaned back as Ichika stuck her head forward. Both watched the door open wider into sick bay, revealing the edge of a tattooed arm—

Just as she was drawing her reiatsu in tight, Tsukiko let out an involuntary yelp as Ichika grabbed her by the damp kosode and shoved her into a corner of the supply room. In a flash she turned off the light to the supply room, offering nothing more than a forceful "keep your mouth shut" before closing the door behind her.

"I'm not four, I can handle a papercut myself," Ichika's loud, muffled voice said through the door.

"Yeah, well, there's enough blood on the floor that you may as well have cut your finger off—"

"Maybe I got my period, would you stop with the stupid questions?"

"Oh stop," Renji said. "Seriously though, you did a shit job cleaning up. You can't just sprinkle water on the floor and–"

"I'm not done yet!"

"Okay, fine! Hell…."

Ichika scoffed. "I'm surprised Oji-sama let you go too."

Something flashed in Tsukiko's chest, lightning before the crack of anger that now forever accompanied references to her father in the present.

"I told him I had to take a leak," Renji said. "I swear, if I look at any more envelopes I'll die."

Envelopes? She couldn't have heard right.

"Same though," Ichika said. "You'd think that place would be emptier with all the 'urgent memos' and 'confidential information' running through it, but I guess not."

Were they in his office or something?

"Everything's urgent to your uncle." Renji scoffed, only to sigh into something like concern. "He's like a madman in there, I swear."

"Yeah, well—" Ichika began.

"Don't," Renji warned. "Just don't."

"You don't even know what I was gonna—" Ichika was cut off by what sounded like a very muffled guitar, which turned into a less muffled guitar when either she or Renji pulled their soul pager—for it was now clearly a soul pager—from their pocket.

"Speak of the devil," Renji said. Just as the guitar was joined by drums and bass, he answered the call. "We'll be right back—" He quieted, and even through the door Tsukiko could feel something change in sick bay as he listened. "Oh, that's fantastic." He paused. "Yes, we'll be there. But remember not to lift the sorter without us…no, I am not ordering you, I am simply looking out…I'm going to forgive that because you're exhausted—aaaand he hung up."

"Please tell me he found it," Ichika said, hope tinging her words.

…What the hell was it?

"He most certainly found it," Renji said. "C'mon, let's clean up the floor and head back. The sooner we finish in there, the sooner we can all go to bed…."

Ichika grunted her assent, and moments later, Tsukiko heard the muted shushing of cleaning rags and the running of water as the two cleaned whatever of her blood had fallen on the tile. Thereafter, she heard the flick of the light switch and the catch of the door's latch bolt landing in the lock, leaving her completely alone.

One second passed. Two. Three.

Tsukiko turned on the light switch in the supply room. She blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted, and when she lifted her foot from the floor, a soft sound like Velcro hit her ears from where her blood had partially dried on the tile. The gauzing and bandaging of her foot and hand went fast enough, and though she continued to limp, she took care to clean every drop of visible blood that tracked her route, all the way from sick bay, to the showers, and back to her bunk. She dropped her damp kosode on the floor beside her bunk and sifted through her footlocker for a clean one, but deciding the work of changing her sheets would have to wait until the following day, Tsukiko lay back in bed at last. She ignored the growing wet feeling on her foot where the bandage was already at its limits.

Her final thoughts before drifting into inner world–free slumber were the same as when she'd first turned the light back on in the supply room. Well, almost. They were more refined now. Just one question, really:

What the fuck had happened tonight?

A/N: To clarify, yes, I did add formal chapter names (the chapter numbering was starting to bother me). I also cleaned up a couple notes along the way (I also have plans to import my AO3 revisions to FFN but...that's a task for another day). To anyone who saw me upload the wrong chapter file twice, well...it's a thing that happened and it's fixed now so let's move on |D