Become A Ghost, Prologue

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Prologue

When a Hollow killed Keigo, Rukia was forcibly made aware of how all of her friends in the real world would eventually reach that moment decreed by Fate, and die.

The solution, as much as such a quandary could be solved, came to her one evening while she ate dinner with Byakuya. Dinners were always spent in silent communion with one's meal, as were lunches and breakfasts, so Rukia's faint gasp of realization was noticeable in the peaceful room.

Byakuys looked up from his meal and glanced at her inquiringly. But Rukia felt ashamed that it had taken her so long to realize that living people had a much shorter existence than the dead, and shook her head, a tiny smile on her wan face.

One by one, each of her beloved comrades would fall, be it to violence or illness or simply old age. The knowledge set a burning ache to start in her chest, until she came to the understanding that though they might die, they would be travelling to Soul Society and thus they could be together once more. They would never be entirely lost to each other.

Except...

"Nii-sama," she began, and set her chopsticks on the exquisite laquered holder beside her plate while waiting for his acknowledgement.

"Rukia," he replied. His own chopsticks were placed with care on his own holder, and then the entirety of his attention was on her.

"Nii-sama, is there any way for a soul to retain its memories after konshou?" She tried so hard to make her face blank, to match his eternal calmness, but distress made the muscles beneath the skin rebel. Without permission, her eyes widened, and her jaw set hard.

Byakuya studied her for a long moment before getting to his feet with his usual graceful economy of motion and leaving the room. Rukia waited, because his plate was still half-full (or was that half-empty?) and it was odd even for Byakuya to leave without a single word. After an hour, however, it became clear to her that he would not be returning to finish his meal. In fact, she did not see him again for the rest of the evening.

But in the morning, resting atop the neatly-folded pile of her shinigami uniform when she awoke, was a scroll tied with a silk ribbon.

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