A/N: My very first attempt at writing Bleach, couldn't decide if I should post it or not, decided to do it - obviously.

He has never been able to hear its name. That's what everyone believes, at least.

But it's okay,

Sort of.

Because she hasn't heard the name of hers either.

But if anyone knew, her case would make more sense.


Because a blade can't really wield another of its kind.

He does not think about it as strange, anymore.

It's just how things are.


How she can always stay alive, no matter how hurt she becomes in a fight.

But after all;

Though it may take time;

A zanpakuto can always heal as long as its wielder clings to life.


How such a little girl could hide razor sharp, jagged edges.

He doesn't know that he has known its –

Her –

Name, all these years.

She wasn't really lost, or alone, that day in the forest.

She was right there.

With him.

Making the blood flow.

He spoke her name.

So many years later, everyone, including himself - and her, just think that he is unable to listen.