On the first cold day of Spring, while her heart was full of nothing but frozen regret, Death came for Hisana a second time.

The winter snows still lingered in the deepest shadows of the garden even as the first plum blossoms bloomed. Ice still crisped the air and sank into her bones leaving her cold, cold, cold. As cold as the whispered rumors behind her back claimed she was. Hisana sat beside what was once her body, shivering slightly as she watched Byakuya-sama and wondered, vaguely, why there was still a Hisana left to wonder. Wasn't the spiritual body the soul, and the death of that body the death of that soul? Was there no end to this existence?

I'm dead, she thought, so why aren't I gone?

"Because there's more to a person then those spirit particles."

Oddly, Hisana wasn't startled at all, although a moment before she could have sworn there was no one here save herself, and her grieving husband. (She could barely look at him now. It cut like the wind in winter to know that she had caused that kind man such pain. He deserved better then a peasant child-abandoner from the Rukongai) But here a woman sat down beside her and Hisana wasn't at all surprised to see her here. It felt like a prearranged meeting with a friend.

For the life of her, however, she didn't know who this friend was.

"I'm sorry," Hisana said, "I don't know your name."

The woman smiled and Hisana noticed her skin was the exact color of snow, white without a trace of color. Her kimono, although in the female style, was stark black. White and black, the colors of the shinigami. The colors of death.

(About her neck hung a sliver pendant in the shape of an ankh. A symbol of Life.)

"We've met before, but for some reason you people never remember me," the woman said. "And in this world life and death are so complicated! You're born and I meet you, you die and are reborn, so I meet you again…, and then you die for a final time. Most universes we would only meet twice, but here…!" She shook her head in mock-sadness.

Something that wasn't a memory stirred, something about the long darkness she and her sister--(her abandoned sister, she has no right to be a sister after abandoning her little sister. Cold, cold, ice cold bitch, just like the rumors said. Falling snow and ice to numb the heart)--the long darkness they had drifted through between the worlds. The almost-memory melted in her grasp, fading away to nothing. Or rather, almost nothing.

She knew who this woman was.

"I thought you were a dream," Hisana said. Death laughed.

"Not quite. I love him dearly, but Dream is more than a bit stuffy." She wrinkled her nose, forcing a laugh out of Hisana. This wasn't some dread creature, or even the shinigami who had helped her pass over to Soul Society. This was like meeting a big sister she never knew she had.

Sudden guilt closed her throat, turning the laugh to a choked sob. She opened her mouth to try to explain, and found herself being gathered up into a hug. There was no need, she realized. Death knew everything about her, and loved her anyways.

She didn't deserve this.

(Her husband was motionless, but the servants had finally gathered. Her lady's maid had removed her hand from his and pulled up the sheet into an impromptu shroud. Now the servants knelt motionless behind their master, awaiting the proper moment to honor their dead mistress.

She deserved none of this)

When she managed to halt the tears Death pulled a handkerchief out of the air and handed it to her. "Now what?" Hisana said after she wiped her eyes. "What happens next?" and even she could hear the regret and guilt in her voice. There were so many things she had left undone.

"Different things for different people, and you only get to find out what happens to you," Death said gently. Hisana just shook her head in confusion.

Death sighed. "Well," she continued, "some people choose to be reborn. Some go to Heaven, others choose Hell. Still others choose to walk between the universes or enter the Dreaming… it all depends, really. You have to ask yourself what you want."

People chose to be damned? (didn't she deserve that?) Only the last sentence made sense, so she sat and thought. What did she really want?

(He husband was grieving for a wife who did not deserve him. She wanted to believe that she wanted him to be happy, but if he was happy, he wouldn't have taken her in. Wouldn't have promised to do what she could not--save her sister. No, she didn't deserve him because she didn't want to make him happy.)

(Her sister back? Again, no. She didn't deserve to be the girl's sister. No one should ever abandon an infant as she had, that was an act of evil for which she should never forgive herself. She didn't want her sister back. She wanted that little girl to be safe. There was a difference)

"I want to protect my sister," Hisana said, finally. "I don't deserve to be her sister, but I do want to protect her."

Death smiled sadly. "I haven't taken her," she said. Hope flared briefly in Hisana's heart, only to be dashed in the next instant. "But the point o reincarnation is to leave all the baggage of your previous life behind. To have a fresh start over, as it were."

Hisana looked away and bit her lip, tear threatening to spill once again. Through the wind rising around them she could hear an infant's cry, and it was hard not to imagine that it was her sister.

"But," Death said meditatively, "There is another option in this world." Hisana turned back to her, hope flaring anew. "You will lose of your past life, of course," Death warned. "You will become a completely different person. You won't even be human."

"But I will be able to protect my sister."

Death nodded.

Hisana didn't even have to think about it. To leave behind all the pain and guilt and shame of her life, and still be able to protect that little one? There was no question in her mind what she would do. Hisana was a worthless person who had used her husband and abandoned a child--perhaps in her next life she would do better. Hisana nodded eagerly.

Death smiled. "Hisana, take my hand."

As Hisana clasped Death's hand the scent of snow intensified, filling the air, and a sharp bite of ice stung the back of her throat. The world became ice-white, snow-white, then faded away altogether.

The being once known as Hisana closed her eyes, white sleeves whipping in the winds.

Her new brother knelt before Rukia and presented her a sheathed and sealed zanpakuto. Rukia tried to hide her surprise, in the short time since her adoption he had shown almost no interest in her. Rukia didn't know whether to be relieve or frightened by his continuing disinterest, so this sudden attention was all the more disturbing. She didn't let that show, however, as she took the sword from him and drew the blade, as tradition apparently demanded. \ The blade was perfect, of course, nothing but the finest would do for even the newest member of the House of Kuchiki.

As her hand closed around the hilt she felt something, no, someone stir sleepily for jus the briefest moments. And then it was gone. Awed, she stared at the blade.

"Spend time every day mediating," Nii-sama said (how odd to call anyone brother!). "Learn its name and abilities. Always bring honor to the House."

That last was a dismissal. Hastily she sheathed the blade and kowtowed, pressing her forehead to the floor. "Thank you Nii-sama!" she said before backing out of the room and out of his space.

Back in her rooms (so large! she rattled around in them) she sat on a floor cushion and unsheathed the zanpakuto, letting it rest across her lap.

It? No, her.

Once again Rukia felt the other stir and stretch, and this time she caught the scent of newly fallen snow. Experimentally Rukia closed her eyes and sent a tendril of thought to the blade.

Who are you?

She didn't expect a response, it took most shinigami months, sometimes years before they heard their zanpakuto voice, if they ever do. So she was a startled when she got an answer.

Sode no Shirayuki, the sword whispered like falling snow. And I will always protect you.