All change is not growth, as all movement is not forward.
Ellen Glasgow

It was April again before anyone knew it, and then summer again. Had it been up to Orihime, the spring would have lasted forever. But this was something out of her control. She was another year older, a shade taller. Perhaps, she thought, perhaps now I'll be something worth looking at without pity or patronization.

This thought was bolstered by the scratching at her window once in a while over the winter. Whenever she heard it, she would smile despite herself and scramble to let her visitor in.

Kuchiki-san always hugged her. It had been strange, ever since the first time it happened. It had been an act of comfort, of a kindness born of a a need that Orihime sensed was not entirely different from her own. Over Kurosaki-kun's unconscious but thankfully still-living body, Kuchiki-san had reached for her, held her in an embrace tight enough to make her blush. In that moment Orihime felt her bones suffused with bolstering, calming camaraderie. Kuchiki-san did not need to say it aloud. You lean against me, and I'll lean against you. Just for a little while. Maybe forever.

Which was why, Orihime understood, it would be okay to lose Kurosaki-kun to her. Kuchiki-san took care of the people close to her. She would take good care of Kurosaki-kun.

Only she didn't.

On those winter nights Kuchiki-san never made any excuses about her presence. "You're not out with your friends, Orihime-san. You can't be alone all the time, it's not good for you." Her tone was never as critical as her words.

"Ah, but I like my time alone," Orihime would half-lie. "I talk to Sora-oniichan and make myself good food."

Kuchiki-san would smile at her a little, settling into a chair as Orihime made a mess of her kitchen. Kuchiki-san would only accept hot cocoa, and even though Orihime preferred tea now, she always kept it in her cupboards. She would bring Kuchiki-san a steaming cup and watch, enraptured, as Kuchiki-san's rosebud lips would turn upwards in a tiny smile after a tiny drink or two. After a moment of silence, the shinigami would always ask after Orihime's studies. "You're very bright. It should not go to waste."

And Orihime would blush. "Oh, not really," she'd say, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. "Not like Ishida-kun or Sado-kun. I just remember things easily, that's all."

Kuchiki-san would shake her head and chuckle, but she would never push. And they would chat, in much the same way Orihime would chat with Tatsuki-chan. And always, as if on cue, Orihime would ask how Kuchiki-san was feeling.

She had not thought much of it while she healed them, several deep cuts on her arms and legs, a gash on her back, a nick on her forehead. She supposed, at the time, Kuchiki-san must be a formidable fighter indeed, to have come through the Battle of Hueco Mundo with so few, minor wounds. But as word filtered back to her, Orihime put the pieces together. She knew now what happened to every one of her friends since they entered Hueco Mundo. And they all had been badly injured at one point or another.

Even in ways that did not show outwardly.

Orihime understood that Kuchiki-san did not want to discuss it. She also understood that not everyone had realized what had befallen her when she was alone. But the rest were men. How could they possibly grasp the depth of Kuchiki-san's situation? As a fellow female, Orihime prepared herself to be the comforting arms Kuchiki-san would reach for when they were needed. But she never did, skillfully evading any attempts at broaching the subject. So Orihime let herself forget, to push her worry aside as Kuchiki-san did what she did best: Make herself scarce as not to worry or inconvenience anyone else.

In April, Kuchiki-san hugged Orihime again and told her she would not be coming back for a while, and could she keep an eye on those boys? Orihime could only smile and tell her she would.

Had it been up to her, she would have kept that promise.

Springtime, she learned all too quickly, is for lovers.

And for new things. New school year, new books and fresh new book bags with kittens on them. Tatsuki laughed at this new treasure. "You always buy the most random stuff when I don't shop with you."

Orihime giggled. "I doubt you could have stopped me. I saw it and had to have it."

"Well it's nice and girly in that way you like," Mahana said, sidling up beside Orihime and settling into her desk. "Too bad it's not pink."

Orihime started to respond when Ishida-kun sat stiffly in the desk on the other side of her. He peered up at her quizzically. "Good morning, Inoue-san," he said. How long had it been since she'd seen him last? His hair was longer, falling in jetty locks over his eyes. His jaw still had its determined set and his long white fingers tapped lightly on his notebook, which he was already examining intensely. He obviously neither expected nor desired a response from her. Orihime smiled at him nonetheless.

Sado-kun and Kurosaki-kun were the last to shuffle in, both silent—one broodingly, the other placidly. Neither of them had really changed that much, even after all this. As roll was called out, it seemed almost like old times.

Until the teacher decided to shake things up. "So, who shall we have serve as this year's class reps?"

Of course, as usual, there were no volunteers. So she took it upon herself to decide. "Kunieda, Kurosaki. You'll both do."

Kunieda-san scowled. "Hai."

Kurosaki-kun blinked. And then boiled over. "Why me?"

A ripple of snickers rounded the classroom but the teacher had already turned to the board. "A little responsibility might help with your little truancy problem, Kurosaki."

Ichigo gaped at her for just a moment before realizing all eyes in the class were on him. Then he slumped in his seat. Goddamn it, she was right. "Hai," he said. Rukia was going to laugh her ass off when she heard this one.

Only she didn't. Two weeks after the dubious assignment, she came alone to see him. "Renji accompanied Hisagi-taichou to visit Kensei," she explained when Ichigo opened his mouth to question the absence of her shadow. "They'll be smashed by the time we head back, though." This last statement, though rueful, was delivered with a smirk.

"Huh," Ichigo commented. "Always a party out there I'm not invited to."

Rukia had already settled cross-legged on the floor. "If you're so offended, go crash it. I'm sure Hiyori will be just thrilled to see you."

"No thank you. I've had enough psychotic bitches to deal with in one day," he snorted.

"How's that? I just saw Inoue and she's just fine."

"So she didn't tell you about my new rank as class rep? Paired with the coldest female on the planet?"

"She mentioned Kunieda-san, and I hardly see where you'd call her cold. She's a little aloof, but she's never been rude to me."

"Probably because you don't have a penis," Ichigo said. "I seriously think she's some kind of man-hating lesbian or something, she always gives me dirty looks."

Rukia let out an exasperated sigh. "Did you ever ask her why?"

"What would be the point in that?"

"Ichigo, you'd think you could be mature enough handle it better than that," she chided. "Kunieda-san is a serious student. To her, you're a truant and a thug."

"Is it my fault she doesn't know me?" Ichigo fumed. "Why are you taking her side?"

"I'm not. I'm just saying I can see why she'd think that. Why is it so hard for you to be amiable?"

"Amiable?"

"You know. Like a seventeen-year-old. A normal one."

"You have things mixed up here." He could smell the wheels spinning out of control in her brain. There was no jealousy here, not even a whiff of envy. Rukia had chosen to play the teasing older sister.

"Well, she is really pretty," she added slyly.

Ichigo's eyes narrowed. "Hey. Kunieda's not my type." Nevermind the slender legs and the sexy mole under her right eye. And nevermind the wilting flower in the back of his head that might have represented the tiniest of crushes on the woman who saved his life. You never did see me like that, did you, he thought. Never would.

Rukia threw up her hands in mock surrender. "Forget I ever suggested it," she said with a broad smile. "Anyway, I just wanted to check in on you. I might not be back for a while."

Ichigo's mind snapped from hazy, shifting images of two dark-haired girls—one short and one tall—into focus. "For how long?"

"I've been reassigned as Ukitake-taichou's assistant, for now. Renji will be coming back from time to time to help Hirako-san so don't think if you do anything shady it won't get back to me."

"Shady as in how?" Ichigo scratched his head.

"Don't neglect your studies anymore. Finish school and become a productive member of human society. We'll deal with the hollows from here on out."

"Why does it feel like you prepared this speech?" he asked.

"Because I did," she said simply.

"You act like you're never going to see me again."

Rukia made an indelicate noise. "It might actually feel that way, for a while,"she said, rubbing her neck. "I don't know when it'll be. Months, years maybe."

His heart did not stop from the news, as evidenced by the narrowed eyes and the resumed scowl. "Is that all, then?"

Her head snapped up. "Would it feel better if I picked a fight and you stopped wanting to see me?"

He stared at her. In fact, he thought, it would. "No," he murmured.

She rose slowly and stepped to him. "I'm going to hug you now." He could barely feel her arms encircling his waist. She laid her head on his chest. "Thank you."

He sniffed a little as his own arms came to a rest on her shoulders. He could not think of a response until after she was long gone. Take care of yourself, Rukia, he thought at his ceiling before drifting off to sleep. He had no control over that, though. She was going to work herself petty hard and he knew it. He wouldn't be alone in the missing someone thing.

Had it been up to her, she would have simply worked. Nothing else. There was plenty to do, both in Karakura and in Sereitei, and it could have kept her occupied for weeks. Months even. Once responsibility for Karakura had been ceded to the Vaizards and all active shinigami were recalled for reassignment within Soul Society, she said her goodbyes to Ichigo and his friends—her friends—and followed Renji through the open gate, already focused on what task she could assign herself once they got home. She knew she could rely on her captain to give her her freedom, Ukitake had been determined since the end of the war to help her rise in the ranks. He'd told her it was long overdue and he would do anything to assist her in attaining the rank that was rightfully hers. Rightfully.

So when she could no longer dodge her brother, her irritation with him could not be suppressed. And she had no intention of even trying.

All the lavish food in the world could not wipe the surliness from her expression.

But her brother, the preternatural glacier that he was, would not patronize her. Not even with an apology. And certainly not with any respect for her privacy.

"How long," he asked as they sat in silence before her sister's shrine, "do you intend to keep up this facade?"

Rukia sighed.

After several minutes of silence, her brother sighed as well. "Do you believe you are more obstinate than I am? Surely you must know me better than that."

Rukia shook her head. "It has nothing to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me. I held you back, I forced you into a place too small for you. Then I released you into the open world and trusted your stunted skills would be enough to shield you from the cold. Perhaps I thought you were luckier than you actually are."

"It's amusing to hear someone like you speak of luck," she said.

"I do not know any other way to frame it. The horror of it is still too fresh. I am finding it difficult to think when it concerns you."

"Horror," Rukia echoed.

"There is no more fitting name for it. Unohana-taichou has told only me. Even with no marks on you—and you were clever, to have Inoue-san try to cover it—she could tell what had really happened to you. And yet here you are, so very calm. Abarai is half mad with worry. He must be able to smell it on you."

"Renji, at least, isn't being pushy about it."

"He fears driving you away."

"And you don't have such a fear."

"No," Byakuya said slowly, "I do not. There is no place you can hide from me for very long. You can run to Ukitake, or back to Karakura, and I'll come for you. Never doubt that." He was silent for a while, and her skin began to crawl. Not long now, and he will ask, she thought.

"Aizen and Tousen are dead. When Ichimaru is found, he will die as well." He turned his face and gray eyes pierced her. "Although I hardly call that justice, to merely put a rapist to death. Had he killed you, he could not have maimed you any worse."

That was the first and last time he—anyone—said those words to her. It amazed her, strangely, that it was better coming from him than she could imagine it coming from anyone else. "Nii-sama." She could not find any other words. "Nii-sama."

His hand grazed her shoulder. "It is not something I would force you to recount to me. You have been silent all this time. I have never believed you to be weak. All I ask is that if you feel the need, you consider leaning on me."

Had it been up to her, she would never have wept in her brother's presence. But it was not, and she did.