Rukia didn't know what she had expected. Perhaps some selfish part of her, deep down, had still hoped that Ichigo would come after her and beg her not to leave. This was not Ichigo though. This was another she had come to think of as a friend of sorts and it occurred to her that she had done them all wrong by stepping into their lives.

Ishida betrayed no sign of discomposure save in taking a moment to adjust the glasses on his nose.

He had already let the bow of blue fire dissolve. Now he was just a schoolboy, walking home with a bag of shopping in one hand.

"Who the hell are you?" snarled Renji.

"I might ask the same."

While Renji was distracted, Rukia closed the distance between herself and the quincy. Irrational as it was, she was grateful, though, as she reached him, she took his wrist and tried to pull him away:

"This is none of your business, Uryu. You shouldn't be here."

"What do you mean, Kuchiki-san? I in no way came here because I sensed the spiritual pressure of these shinigami. I was, in point of fact, on my way to a needlework shop that opens late on a Thursday, and, by mere chance, I came upon this scene."

"Enough!" roared Renji. "Get out of my way or I'm going to kill you!"

Ishida responded by raising both hands. Blue fire arced out of a pendent on his wrist, forming the shape of a long-bow with a single, burning arrow. Renji bared his teeth and sprung forward like a wolf. Ishida loosed the arrow. The range was almost point blank yet the shinigami moved like lightning. Renji had always been ferocious in a fight. He side-stepped the arrow and brought his sword around, giving Ishida no time to acknowledge the attack before his body folded over the blade. His eyes went wide. Only in that instant could he have realised how futile his stand had been. The Court Guard Squads were trained to kill. Swiftly and efficiently. And they were trained to follow orders, to the word, at the expense of all personal ties.

No, it was not mere training. It was something deeper. It went down to the very core of their being, a stain on their bones. It gave them a reason. It had given her a reason and, deep inside of her, it still remained, indelible as a scar. When Renji turned towards her, his red eyes bright, some part of her was already forgiving him without question. He lunged at her and she jumped away, even as Ishida's blood began to spread out across the concrete. "Rukia!" Renji roared. She feinted left. Too slow, but at least the blade missed her; in its place, Renji's forearm and the pommel of his sword struck her in the neck, and she choked. She was hurled backwards into a nearby lamp-post. The impact of her body rang in the empty street. She struck the ground with nearly as much force again, and rolled to a stop.

He was upon her. She closed her eyes.

And metal sang upon metal. "What the hell?" Renji snarled. She heard him whirl away from her and then there was a familiar voice, one that she had both dreaded and hoped to hear:

"What do you want with Rukia?"

"Ichigo." She forced open her eyes and pushed herself up.

To her right, her brother, Byakuya Kuchiki stood like a beautiful statue, his scarf and cloak barely touched by the breeze that trickled down the alley. His eyes, for now, were on his vice-captain and the newcomer. Renji had hesitated, relaxing his stance slightly to get the sum of Ichigo. He smiled a dangerous, lop-sided smile:

"So you're the one who stole her powers."

"I stole nothing."

"But it's because of you that she's going to die!" Renji flew at him and Ichigo blocked the strike with confidence until he felt the strength behind that blow. His eyes widened. Renji's sword sung down the length of his, ripping sparks from the metal. At the last, Ichigo ducked and swung under his opponent's blade. With a bark of laughter, Renji dodged, stepped effortlessly into the air and alighted on a high fence running along the side of the alley.

He was a broad-shouldered man, and muscular. Though by no means clumsy, his usual style in a fight was brute strength, strike after strike, like a wild dog bringing down its prey. Before their training, Rukia had seen him fight like that with his bare hands. Yet his years in the academy had instilled in him a certain elegance. Here, in the human world, it was impossible to forget that he was a spirit. No human could perch, like a bird of prey, atop the thin wire fence where now he crouched, his sword across his knees, his eyes alight with the prospect of bloodshed.

He looked down at Ichigo. The boy's face was wary. Ichigo understood that this reprieve would be brief. "How did your zapakuto get so big?" called down Renji: "I've never seen one so big!" He was mocking him.

"Thanks," replied Ichigo, brazenly. He made a show of examining the sword he carried: "I knew it was bigger than Rukia's, but I've never had anyone to compare it with before!"

Renji snorted:

"Your moves are clumsy."

"Ichigo, please. You can't fight him," said Rukia. By withdrawing to his position on the fence, Renji had succeeded in moving the fight a little further down the road. There was a railing in the middle of the street, the fence, a telegraph pole, all within easy reach. Rukia could see that he was choosing his battleground, planning his movements from point to point. The shinigami could fight that way: the walls, the scenery around them, each object of human construction was a part of that battlefield, including the sky and the air itself. Ichigo might have some of the skills of a shinigami, but he wasn't thinking like one. He was wary, never daring to take his eyes off Renji's hawk-like figure. For him, the space felt confined and claustrophobic. For Renji, it was festooned with a thousand different points from which to launch an attack. "Ichigo, please." As she tried to go to him, she felt something catch on her skirt. She turned and saw that Ishida had raised his head and grasped the edge of her dress:

"Don't," he said: "Rukia."

"Watch out! Here I come!" Renji cried as he sprang down from the fence. And perhaps Ishida was right because it was hard for Rukia to follow their flurry of movement. Ichigo was on the defence, backing further down the alleyway, away from her. She could see Renji's long red hair, tied back from his face, whipping against the black fabric of his uniform, the flash of swords, the dance of their sandals on the tarmac.

They froze. Rukia caught and held her breath. Renji's shoulders were thrust forward. He was taller than Ichigo and she couldn't see the human beyond him, but she heard Ichigo choke. When Renji stepped back, the tip of his zanpakuto was bright with blood. Ichigo was clutching his chest: a point just above his collar bone, but his eyes were clear and focussed as he watched Renji pad lazily away. As he reached the centre of the alley, the shinigami stepped into the air and landed, in a crouch, on the narrow rail that ran down the middle of the street: "What do you call that sword of yours?" he asked conversationally, adjusting a pair of sunglasses that he wore pushed back on his head.

Ichigo gritted his teeth:

"You name your zanpakuto?"

"Name it? No." Renji grinned: "But I know its name."

"Mine doesn't have a name," said Ichigo, somewhat defensively, and the shinigami laughed:

"You think to fight me and you don't even know the name of your sword! You're ridiculous." He stood up and walked along the railing, an act that would require near perfect balance for a human being. As he did, he held his zanpakuto before him and barked a command into the still night air: "Hoero, Zabimaru!"

Fierce red light streamed out of the pommel of the sword, enveloping the blade. As Ichigo watched, the shaft reformed itself, changing shape. When the light retreated, it left behind a new weapon. The pommel was decorated with a strip of animal skin that was, in turn, partially wrapped around Renji's wrist. The blade was half again as long, thick and serrated. It was a weapon without any hint of elegance or subtlety. It was designed to tear apart whatever it touched: "This is Zabimaru, and the name of the man who is going to kill you is Abarai Renji!"

Perhaps he had counted on ichigo being overawed by this performance or perhaps he had underestimated the boy, but almost before he had finished speaking, the young human bolted forward, his sword raised. Renji ducked, but took the pommel of Ichigo's sword full in the face as the boy barrelled into him. The move looked more desperate than skilled, but the shinigami was knocked off his feet and sent sprawling on the road. His glasses shattered and when he looked up there was blood on his face, streaming from the bridge of his nose: "Bastard!" he snarled.

"Be careful, Renji."

Ichigo, Renji and Rukia all turned at the words. It was the first time the other shinigami had spoken and, unlike Renji, his voice was soft and unhurried: "There were reports of a human boy defeating a menos grande."

Renji glanced from his captain back to Ichigo:

"Ha! Him?" Byakuya didn't answer. "This one couldn't defeat a menos. Human!" Renji bellowed: "Take your stance!"

It was the only warning he gave before he flew at him. He had changed his fighting style though, Rukia noticed. Instead of pushing Ichigo backwards, he was now attacking with wild bursts. Each one set the human on the defensive. At best, Ichigo was able to adjust the angle of his blade for another parry. At worst, he was using his left hand to hold his own blade back from his body as the sheer strength of Renji's attacks threatened to push it backwards, into him. Between these strikes, the shinigami took to dancing back a few paces. He appeared to be giving his opponent breathing time, but Rukia believed there was another motive. Those few paces gave Renji time to observe the damage he'd done, time to guage Ichigo's next move. He wasn't going to give him any openings.

When next he paced away from Ichigo, he stopped nearly ten feet from the boy, squared his shoulders and roared "Zabimaru!" and, as if responding to the name, the sword suddenly extended, the serrations separating one from another, so that all that joined them as a weapon were fibrous grey sinews. This new blade writhed into the air, animated and snake-like. It coiled several times over Renji's head as t reached its full length. And then he sent it chasing towards Ichigo.

The boy's eyes were wide as he deflected the first blow. But nothing could have prepared him for a fight against such a weapon. Though he knocked away the tip, the very first serration, it merely folded under the others as they flowed over his shoulder until half of Renji's blade was behind him.

The shinigami flexed his wrist so that every serration was pointing downwards. A single movement of his arm sent a wave of motion down the length of his blade, like a bullwhip, and the first vicious spike of metal dove into Ichigo's shoulder, meeting no resistance in his flesh. "Do you understand now?" demanded Renji, as the blade retracted, each serration in turn hooking into Ichigo's shoulder, tearing chunks of meat out of his body and jerking him forwards. With a howl, he fell to his knees, portions of the blade still caught in his arm.

Rukia heard his name escape from her lips. Little more than a whisper. The tip of Renji's blade sent a spray of blood across the pavement and then the zanpakuto returned to its original form and Renji hoisted it casually onto one shoulder. He crooked his head at the human boy: "Do you understand now that you never stood a chance? To know your zanpakuto's name is to be capable of releasing its power. You're a disappointment."

"Ichigo," Rukia murmured. The boy had slumped forward over his own blade. He had stabbed the tip into the pavement to keep himself from collapsing. "If you can go, go now," she whispered under her breath, but he gave no sign that he had heard. His mouth was open and slack, his whole body shuddering. "Stand up," she said, her voice gathering strength, until it sounded like the commands she had given him in so many fights before. She ignored the glance her brother threw in her direction: "Stand up, Ichigo."

His shoulders braced as he tensed himself against the sword. Some part of him seemed unable to resist the force of her voice. Renji grunted, unimpressed by the display:

"You may as well stay down. It's over, Boy." With sudden purpose, he brought his blade down again and it should have slashed through Ichigo's torso, except that he hadn't counted on Rukia. As his wrist came back, she grabbed it and threw one arm around his throat, scratching at his face while at the same time clawing her way onto his back. There was no strength in her human gigai to let her fight, but she could, at least, buy time. "Rukia!" He peeled her hands off of his neck, but she managed to hook his left elbow in the crook of her knee, making it impossible for him to swipe her off with that arm. He couldn't reach her with his right arm either unless he dropped his sword. "Hey, Rukia!" he railed.

"Run, Ichigo!" This time, her voice broke and the words turned into a plea: "Please! Run, Ichigo! Run! Just run!"

The human boy rose to his feet. He kept his head down, as he pulled his sword from the ground and held it level with his hip. His voicewas quiet, but something in the atmosphere had changed:

"As if I would run, Rukia. As if I would die in a place like this!" The air filled with static. The pressure changed. A breeze that had nothing to do with the weather rippled down the alley and caught in a flurry around the pommel of Ichigo's sword, tearing through a ribbon that had been wrapped around the hilt, so that it broke and rose into he air like a streamer.

Renji hesitated. Rukia was too astounded at the change to realise that the shinigami was one step ahaead of her in his plans. Without warning, he backed up, hard, into a lamp-post, crushing her between himself and the metal. Her already bruised body went limp of its own volition and she crumpled to the ground as he stepped away, pausing only to glance back at her with a scowl.

"What is this?" Renji demanded above the rushing sound of Ichigo's reiatsu: "Where is this power from? You can increase your spiritual pressure at will?"

When Ichigo looked up, his eyes were filled with a murderous intent:

"I don't know, but it feels good. I can't feel any pain."

"Impossible!"

"Be careful, Renji! I don't yet know what this is!" he cried. His outline blurred as he sprung forward. From her place on the ground, Rukia took a sharp breath. The change was palpable, not just in his physical condition and his reiatsu, but in his speed and movements.

He attacked Renji: two blows, swift and efficient. And, as he flashed past the shinigami, is blade was suddenly wet with blood. Renji snarled and clutched his shoulder. "Is this good enough for you?" cried Ichigo.

"You bastard!"

And Renji sprang at him. But, this time, they were equals. There was no mistaking it. Ichigo mirrored the shinigami's movements and speed with ease, never letting him retreat far enough to release his sword again. Then, at the last, Ichigo feinted right and, at the same time, swung his zapakuto under Renji's blade. He tried to dodge, but was too slow. The glancing blow threw him backwards, into the railing. It knocked the sword from his hands and Ichigo lunged at the now unarmed man.

His sword should have sunk into Renji's chest. The shinigami even looked down as if baffled as to why there was no pain.

A sound caught in Ichigo's throat, partway between a cough and a question because he held now, not a zanpakuto, but merely the hilt without a blade.

To Rukia's right, showing no sign of having moved, Byakuya held the broken blade.

"That's impossible. He didn't even move," Ichigo said, perhaps unaware that he was speaking aloud.

"Captain Kuchiki," Renji acknowledged. There was no gratitude in his voice. Only something like resentment.

"Kuchiki?" murmured Ichigo, but he choked on the last syllable, as his mouth filled with blood. His head was suddenly too heavy for his body. He tried to focus on the ghostly apparition before him. A man clad in white.

Byakuya's robes were settling around him. Ichigo had not seen the second strike. Had not even felt it.

"You're slow," said Byakuya: "Even to fall."

"You?" Ichigo's hands grasped convulsively at the air. His eyes slid out of focus. There was blood on the pavement all around him: "Was it from the front? Or behind? It hurts. I feel – cold." With his next breath, his nose and throat filled with blood. His legs gave way. He struck the ground and started to choke, his body shuddering.

"You had no need to step in," said Renji, dusting himself off: "He's a human. I could have finished him myself."

"I wanted to. Even I can get rusty if I never use my powers."

"Still" –

But he was cut short as Rukia screamed and flew towards the figure on the ground. Her cry resolved itself into his name, even as Renji caught her about the throat and swung her backwards into a nearby wall. The motion elicited no response from her. No cry of pain. Her eyes never left Ichigo, though her hands, almost unconsciously, clawed at the shinigami's wrist where he held her.

His brows knit as he studied her face:

"It's a human. And it's already dead, Rukia. Damn you. If you go to him now, you'll add another twenty years to your sentence." He glanced towards Byakuya, but the other shinigami was studying the boy's body, which had finally ceased its spasms.

She had thought Renji might relent, of all people. The anger was gone from his face. In its place, she saw confusion. He had only done his duty. He had killed the human who had taken her powers. He'd expected her usual stubbornness and bravado. He'd expected defiance. What he hadn't prepared for was this. She dissolved into tears:

"I don't care! I don't care if he's dead. I want to go to him! And what harm is there in me going to him?"

Renji's eyes widened, but his hold on her didn't falter. In all their time together, she'd only ever wept in front of him once before. She wondered if he remembered.

"You're right," Byakuya said suddenly. He was standing over Ichigo's body, prodding it with his foot: "He does look a little like him. Would you stake everything for that, Rukia?"

She stared at her brother. And suddenly she hated him more than she ever had done before. Looks like him. She hadn't even noticed it before, but yes, there was a resemblance. How dare he point it out to her though, as if he could see into her soul, as if he had even the faintest knowledge of who she was. Renji, seeing some of the old anger return to her eyes, loosened his hold on her. She didn't run to Ichigo. Nor did she fly at her brother, though she would have gladly clawed his grey eyes out. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing what he had done to her with those words.

At Byakuya's feet, the corpse moved, lifted its head and grasped the hem of the shinigami's cloak. Ichigo spoke thickly through the blood in his mouth:

"Who's dead? Who's a corpse? Who do I look like?"

Rukia froze. Byakuya turned cold anger on the boy who held the hem of his haori:

"It seems to me that you want to lose that arm of yours."

Ichigo only stared up at him, panting. He would do it, Rukia knew. One human life would mean nothing to him. Her mind worked quickly. If she was going to turn this around, she had to look convincing.

As Byakuya began to reach for his sword. She marched over to them both and, with as much force as she could muster, kicked Ichigo in the chest. He coughed and spat blood, crumpling back down onto the pavement as his hands balled into fists against the pain. She forced herself not to see:

"Stupid human! How dare you touch my brother. Who do you think you are?"

Renji would know it was an act, for sure. He had always been able to see through her. But Byakuya, her idiot brother, didn't know her half as well as he believed he did. As far as she could see, all that had ever mattered to Byakuya was propriety and, if she could tap into that latent pride, then perhaps, just perhaps, she had a chance of fooling him. She could see the confusion on his face as she knelt down and bowed her head: "I have been such a fool. I was blinded. He does look like him, but it is not him. He is just a human and an insolent one at that. If we leave now, I shall go without complaints, Nii-sama."

"Do you want me to finish him?" asked Renji. For once, there was no cruelty in his voice. He no longer sounded so sure of himself.

"No," said Byakuya: "Come, Rukia. It is too late for him anyway. I have destroyed his spirit source and his chain of fate. He will die." He stepped away from Ichigo and past his kneeling sister. "Please open the gateway, Renji."

Renji stepped forward, thrust out his zanpakuto and turned it like a key. A set of doors appeared: sliding paper screens, with a white light burning behind them. As they opened, that same light filled the street and three black butterflies fluttered out.

It had been months since she had stepped through such a gate. Months that had changed her beyond recognition. She stood up, shivering from the audacity of what she had just done.

"Rukia! Hey, Rukia!" Ichigo's voice was weak. He turned his head to one side so that he could see her: "Is this a joke? Where are you going?"

"You're going to die," she said.

It was no longer an act. If he couldn't see it now, then he never would: the difference between them. For the first time, she was telling him the unequivocable truth: "You'll die. Maybe now. Maybe sometime in the future. But you will die. While you live then, lie still, and think of happier times."

A tear rolled unchallenged down her face, but it was starting to rain and soon the tears and even the blood in the street would all be washed away. One of the butterflies switched past her face and she turned towards the gate. He would die. Today. Or tomorrow. Or in fifty or sixty years. The blink of an eye in her lifetime. If he was lucky, he would grow old and he would encounter, time and again, that magnificent transience she had glimpsed only briefly. But, for her, there would be no death unless it was a violent one. She would return to eternity and he would fade away. A human with no more substance than a dream.

As she stepped through the door, she turned to look back, just once. He had raised his head again. His breaths were a terrible rasping that followed her into the dark passageway beyond the light. But the betrayal in his eyes kept pace with her far beyond even that, haunting her as she crossed the threshold into another world.

**************************************************END OF TRACK 1*******************************************************************************

First and foremost, duty and pride;

The law: the word of today; the guideposts of tomorrow.

This is the path that I choose to walk.
I dedicate my whole life to this valiant cause.
This fate that rules my soul; I'll see it through to the end.

From "This is Another World," Rock Musical Bleach

(Translation by dark—typhoon, available in the rock-muscial-bleach group on deviantart. With thanks to dark—typhoon for allowing me to use it here.)

All things that live and breathe within the world,

How short their time on earth appears to me.

These distant memories I've long since pushed aside;

I've tried to bury all these emotions.

I have no need

Of such things as these

So I will keep on running from them.

Yet something in me tries to fight;

This part of me;

It's turning

Into something I can't hide.

From "A Fleeting Peace," Rock Musical Bleach