Butterfly Bloom
Pairing: Kuchiki Byakuya/Kuchiki Hisana
Summary: The last time she remembered a wishful of wind and raining petals, he was standing there.
Warning : Slight crossover with Saiyuki and Death Note, Curses, slight slash, reincarnation.
Inner thought
:Zanpakutou's speaking:
Her heart fluttered at the sight of cherry blossom trees, white and pink petals swayed gently, the most beautiful sight in Seireitei. How many decades had passed since she laid her eyes at the small garden, now turned into a forest, a secret safe haven from the stuffy and demanding Kuchiki elders.
Spidery hands, with nails painted in palest pink, protected by nail shields from thin beaten gold set with emerald shaped as vines, caressed the engagement ring that the Kuchiki Clan sent. Gold with wheat intricately carved in it, surrounded by tiny diamonds that snuggled perfectly in her ring finger.
"Yagami-san?"
Yagami Hōshi (夜神法師) turned her head to find a maid who escorted her and giving a tour of the compound fidgeting in uncertainty.
"Yes, Keiko dear."
She gave her a subtle smile, eyes crinkled and mouth upturned. The servant girl blanched, whether at the affectionate term she used or the fact that she'd bothered to remember her name.
"This is Lord Kuchiki's private garden, Miss." And you didn't have his permission to enjoy it. Her implication went unsaid.
Her smile became rather fixed for a moment before she spoke again.
"Could you escort me back? It becomes rather chilly."
"I-I will prepare hot tea right away, my Lady."
Together, they journeyed back into the manor; Keiko hadn't uttered a single word after that stuttered sentence. In fact, the maid shied away from her whenever she started conversations with pleased smiles.
: "Your smiles are terrifying.": Her inner voice noted.
'I learned from the best.'
She was wearing a ridiculous diadem. They resembled pieces of random branches which stacked together with super glue. Only those branches were pure gold, with random pearls and sapphires scattered.
Her inner kimono was white, cotton mixed with silk and embroidered in white and silver lily petals, the outer one she currently wore was in plum, purple, and lavender orchids patterned in a soft grey silk, complimented with embroidered golden sparrow in the dark green obi.
Hōshi could hear the murmurs from the spider cracks. They weaved envious hearts, trapped jealous minds, breed greed and sculpted lies.
She was an outsider. A Nanashi. From a Rukongai Noble Clan but still from Rukongai. That she dressed luxuriously. That she would spend away the Kuchiki's wealth with her extravagant lifestyle when she was married.
Honestly, did they think that she enjoyed being wrapped in layer and layer silk clothes and conversing so often with Lord Kuchiki in heavy crowns?
Did no one in his Clan except her intended knowing that she was a priestess?
Yagami-san was cold, like an ice. She was as sly as fox as well. Marrying Lord Kuchiki only for social standing and richness, one servant had spoken one day.
Especially with how she'd presented herself, the other noted with disgust.
Maybe her family couldn't afford more for those silks and satin robes. And her crowns. A pretentious uptight woman from Rukongai, another spoke.
Even Lady Hisana was better, she was always demure and soft-spoken and well mannered. Not slight mad like her, the one called Keiko added helpfully.
Kuchiki Rukia passed them and they talked about the same things.
The servants gossiped in the halls, corridors, like mice and cockroach.
She hated this.
Those maids always talked behind her back when she was adopted by her brother.
They mocked her whenever Nii-sama was outside the door. She didn't expect to be treated like a princess. Yet, they often purposely forgot her attires or giving her a wrong direction when she'd needed to dance between politician and elders.
Fortunately, as usual, she'd paid zero attention to the elders; she had no desire to enjoy swimming in the political current.
But this, this was unforgivable.
This woman was a guest. His brother's guest and fiancée. She was no Hisana, not her Nee-sama but anger still burning in her was the same.
Forgetting Yagami-san's meal, so that she'd needed to cook in her own, refusing to clean her vast chamber, made the priestess swept and mopped it herself, claded in those expensive silks, in her own would-be-husband's house.
She had no doubt that her sister also received these kinds of treatments.
Hisana-onee-sama had Byakuya. The man loved her more than anything, and knowing her brother, he would no doubt incurring his wrath to those pesky, insect servants. He was hotheaded, young, a white knight who would protect her from the world.
Nii-sama was kinder now, but he was still closed off, cold and jaded.
He worked hard for the duties of his family, his clan, his division and his marriage.
But, he still loved his late wife and had no desire to confront his soon-to-be new wife more than necessary.
Rukia balled her fist, eyes followed the shadow of golden and purple walked in the garden.
She'd needed to talk to Yagami-san.
Kuchiki Hisana was a woman, soft and docile, young, but defiant and pliable. The elder might hate her, still they couldn't deny the pleasure to cage her into the rules and honour and duties of a Kuchiki Lady.
Yagami Raito was a man, a killer, Ki-Ra, never a God, which his own deranged and genius mind attempted to destroy humanity's sins and creating utopia had razed his own self. Narcissist and egoist, backed with good looks and multiple talents. If the man wanted to be the Emperor of the world with diplomation and politic, he could easily achieve it within five years.
Yagami Hōshi in the other hand, was a priestess, patient and aloof, her only obligation was to pray. She was the puppet of the temple, the doll of her family. A lifeless face that only allowed to show her immaculate alabaster skin, her leaves shaped eyes, her crescent moon's eyebrows and crimson lips to Rukon people, a God given beauty for their priestess.
She was a mute Matryoshka doll in human disguise, a perfect statue that her people worship.
She knew better.
Reincarnation cycle was vicious.
And Yagami Hōshi was trained by her inner voices.
The innocent and simple happiness from the always child-minded Goku.
Restraining and clearing her heart and mind from Kira's spiralling madness, leaving only a strategic and adept thinking grounded with wisdom from Goku's Sun, the duties carried by a Priest.
Sun was Goku's nickname for the older spirit; a blond, short-tempered monk and Goku himself was dubbed as Monkey by the other.
The younger spirit was a possessive brat. Sun was his before hers.
But his Sun by extend, was also her Sun as well.
The vast land in darkness, where she only heard the voices. Sometimes near, sometimes from afar. Not faces and never faded.
Yagami Hōshi looked back at her reflection in the mirror.
She was bidding her chance.
"She is lonely." Ichigo finally concluded.
Rukia nodded in agreement as they enjoyed their tea in the Kuchiki Winter Garden. It was a clear afternoon, snow and ice covered the ground. The potted plants, had coals infused reiatsu placed between them. Lilies and tulips bloomed in red and yellow, cheered the December season. Wisterias scattered their perfumed selves in the cold air.
From their seats they could see and observe Yagami-san, wrapped with fur and silk, head in pearl diadem, a bird entranced by the soft singing voice, sang along with her, landed in her fingers, her other hand caressed its feather.
The orange-head was emotionally sharp, possessed an intelligent mind and keen instinct as well.
Contrary to popular belief, Ichigo and she had no romantic interest.
"Kuchiki, Kurosaki. Apologize for making you waiting for so long."
A white tuft of hair and a pair of teal eyes greeted them.
Kurosaki grinned at his beloved and stood up, reaching for a hug.
Rukia simply smiled at the pair of lovebirds.
The marriage was lavish. Vastly decorated with soft and subtle flowery scent, buckets of roses, lilies, camellias, daffodils and chrysanthemums arranged in various corners.
The bride walked in white, pale petals of cherry blossoms embroidered the outer kimono. The inner one was in dark plum and pink, patterned with silver stars. The crown was in plain gold, shaped like a king's crown with geometrical design carved into it.
Byakuya held onto those palms, their rubies in the beaten gold nail shields were sharp, scratched his own calloused hand.
He could feel a slight tremor when they walked away from the aisle, back to the Manor; when the moon was high and guests were entertained by the performers.
As they entered their private wings, the Kuchiki Lord let her hand go first and commanded the servant to clean his late wife's chamber.
He closed his eyes, remembering those shy smiles and happiness that once a long time ago radiated from that purple orbs.
Similar yet different.
Leaving his heart into the sunset of his inner world, he took a step in his chamber.
The garden was created roughly two hundred years ago. As opposed to her husband little forest, her own sanctuary was in the true sense, a garden. Patches of plum blossoms, planted in two rows with a path between the trees. Wisteria, now climbed through the trees, was forming a sturdy roof.
In the coldest air, plum bloomed, in varied colours. And if she was lucky, the purple hues of wisteria would join them.
The Lady Kuchiki often spent her afternoon there.
Over a century and a half had already passed. The servants passive hostility had lessened somehow. Hōshi, one day after her confrontation with Rukia, had arranged a meeting with the retainers and servants, in which she used her less sadistic ways a.k.a with her smile that years and years ago, once that made one of the maids dubbed her as deranged, mad woman to adjust with her as their Mistress.
She didn't demand anything extreme. Only reports and inspections about how was the household condition, were given every morning, right before her husband woke up. With keen eyes, she did her duties, neglected responsibilities that came up when she married Byakuya, that her naïve, impatient past self did not enjoy them in the slightest.
The Priestess wanted the retainers to do their task with their best abilities, as she expected nothing less from the Seireitei Greatest Noble Clan's serving people.
Rooms and decorations to be perfectly arranged and spotless, food and beverages to be brought on time, garbs and garments cleaned, folded and ironed neatly, gardens trimmed and clean. Food for everyone should be healthy, nutricious and delicious, so she asked the Clan Healer's recommendation for her Lord's and her sister's dietary plan.
And politeness, she didn't forget reminding them.
She scanned the bills, the records of food bought from traders, construction budget (whenever Shinigami Woman Association decided to build secret rooms for their meetings), of silk and satin bolts stored, bought or received, of gold and silver stocked and of gems and diamonds laid in vaults.
Byakuya reined the money for the Kuchiki House with an iron fist and while she was practically in the same page, she could be generous if her heart desired. Silver for her favourite gardener, or a simple designed satin cloak for a kitchen maid that she was fond of.
The servants slowly, but surely understood. With the Yagami Clan's demises, she became more relaxed. Now, instead of those loud and luxurious clothes, she only wore a simple, white patterned floral kimono with hair unbound, not once they saw her in diadems.
The high sun in the afternoon found her sitting with a porcelain cup of her favourite green tea, her ladies were waiting a little far.
In her left were two beautiful scripted parchments, one from the elders that reminding her as they would declare her marriage void if the bride did not bear an heir between a hundred and fifty years.
Hōshi was tempted to persuade her Lord to make Rukia as the Kuchiki heiress, a perfect way to silence those blasted elders.
The other was from her husband.
The two of them had come into a perfect agreement since the beginning.
Two people who were running the household together. With trust. Nothing more, nothing less.
Although her heart always told her that he was kind, full of love behind the cold façade and he would accept her truly and fully as his Hisana, his Hōshi, his wife; her voice had lost and her tongue became stiff, her throat was dry whenever she'd tried to confess in ones of their rare nights in his chamber.
She was afraid that she'd destroyed his memories of his late wife, his dreams with her own.
She wanted to yell.
Hisana was dead and Hisana was alive now, Byakuya-sama!
Only if you could see her that she became star that watched you every moment.
Her gaze was drawn to the lavender one.
It's up to you
Written by a rose perfumed quill in leather parchment, with his invitation to spend the night with him.
And she knew, like other nights.
They would enjoy their time drinking tea, enjoyed the stars in patio and talked in every topic they could tackled then went to their respective beds.
A gust of wind sent a chill down her spine.
As she walked back, fingers holding her Lord's writing, her shoulder stiff as the tiring obligations and demands weighed her down, she realised she missed his strong arms, warm smiles that were given freely for Hisana.
Her effort to live as Hōshi was doomed to fail from the beginning.
Kuchiki Byakuya was waiting.
His chamber had been prepared, tea and assortments, windows and shoji towards his private balcony and his rooms were opened, beds were cleaned and perfumed with scented orchids.
His ears were strained to hear the conservation between Rukia and his heir, both of them walked over the corridor.
"-Shirayuki is beautiful. Though I would prefer Hyourinmaru." Kuchiki Saitō (朽木斎藤) replied to his aunt's question.
"It's just, he's a dragon, Rukia-ba-san!"
There, a childish statement finally shone from his precocious heir.
His eyes softened, he could imagine the child animated the greatness of the Ice Dragon with his large eyes, hands flying as to emphasise the moment when the 10th Division captain manoeuvred in the air.
"Remember your lessons. Zanpakutou spirits– ."
"– are always different. I mean I meet Goku-kun since the beginning, he is always playful and his Sun is grumpy. I know it's not polite to call him with –kun since he was over five hundred years old but, he said that it was okay!"
Knowing that his child had only met with the majority of the Captains, Lieutenants and Kurosaki's band of misfit, Byakuya just walked across the room fast enough to confront Saitō, it would do no good if his son had met with another rogue Zanpakutou like Muramasa.
"–re Hahaue's inner voices. It's different from Zanpakutou. Hahaue's not carrying one, of course. She just called them her guardian angels."
The Kuchiki heir added solemnly.
The Sixth Division Captain stood in front of the pair, crouched down so he was on the same eye level with Saitō across him, Rukia nodded at him, asking permission to leave with a worried expression etched in her face.
"I want to you to tell me about this Goku."
The silent footsteps followed by the sound of fabric dragged across the grass and stone floor.
They were standing in the middle of the Saitō Garden. Vast with various columns and unexpected walls, it was created as a perfect playground and training ground, protected with Kidou spells so the building was unshakeable, whether from violent Kidou spells, people who were thrown to the wall from Hakuda spars or unfortunate Shunpo incidents .
It boasted a maze like structure, the precious Kuchiki Heir received the Garden as a gift from his Grandfather, the previous Head of the Clan, Kuchiki Ginrei.
"You didn't brought your blade."
The woman's shoulders slumped slightly before she replied.
"My Zanjutsu is terrible."
"You hadn't join Shinou Academy at all."
"I'm a priestess." She answered firmly, through her eyes stated otherwise.
The temptation of a soul wanting to learn her Zanpakutou's name, a reflection of her own self was a daunting chance.
Knowing that Sun allowed Goku only to introduce the monkey's true name, stood for the monk's disparaging sentiment of her, that she had been lying for so long to her Lord, her husband and to herself.
Her own spirit, her only mentor, Goku's beloved Sun was deemed her as an unworthy wielder of them.
"Yet, you heard them."
Her heart fell, the purple orbs darkened, like two limpid pools in the spring as she took a look at the maze's wall in front of them, green with abundant splash of colours.
It was climbed by clematis and roses grew through each other; on the right and left sides, small patches of Blue Wings lobelia with their tiny violet flowers smiled; and next to them, the shrubs of white, large sun-roses, masses of red blooms of common rock-roses and sun-kissed yellow of fernleaf yarrows were bathing in the summer sun.
The plants were planted by them together, mother and son. As much as the Kuchiki heir denied, he'd found a joy digging through dirt and ground, sowing the seeds and watching them growing and blooming, like a proud father.
She took a deep breath before answered.
"In dreams. Saitō and I, we met them in dreams."
Once a time, her inner world was full of light, without spirits. Only a land with huge cherry blossom trees and winding wind. When they came, at the same time of her second life in Soul Society, the life faded and only cold, wasteland survived with an old, forgotten, haunted castle.
Still, Goku loved the Kuchiki heir immediately, trained him by playing tag in darkness. Even Sun was more tolerant of him than her, as he answered her son's questions patiently, satisfying the his curious nature.
"You should go to the Academy long time ago." His tone was neutral, stating a fact.
Learning what?
Sun had told that he was average in using a katana. A Priest only needed to pray, lead the people, shoot accurately and fast bullets and not dying. It was the most important.
Not gallivanting across the land of the dead and living, searching for Hollows and destroying them without cause. Balance must be maintained and those creatures were existing for something, he lectured in a semi-bored tone and refused to explain further.
"I already laid down my case, my Lord. It would do no good. Both of them had declined the opportunity to see me and I the same."
Sun was always Goku's first priority. The younger spirit, with a child-like and simple mindedness did not care much about her, his own wielder.
If the monk wanted to live in darkness forever, Goku would sit down happily and bask together with him in the endless black of starless sky.
A harsh laugh lasted for a moment before Kuchiki Byakuya's cooling gaze pierced her heart.
"You lied to me. What next? You'll confess that Yagami Hōshi is actually a poser, that she is the reincarnation of my late wife?"
As she refused to meet his icy stare, her Lord marched back into his bed-chamber, his fury was palpable in the air.
Pitch black. Black, darkness surrounded the land. Wind howling and branches of old trees creaked, the sound was toneless like skeletal joints who buried in open cemeteries. The campfire was dead and the only light source she could see was Sun's lightened cigarette.
His hair was blond, even in the dim light, gleamed its radiance like a star. His purple eyes were put violet to shame and his skin pale, flawless alabaster. Sun was pretty, in a way that made women jealous.
Garbed in a white robe with his sutras' laid on his shoulder, his chakra point was hidden in his golden bangs, the monk always had a divine presence.
:"What do you want, woman?":
Left hand caressing his ward's chocolate hair, her other spirit, who was sleeping soundly like a child. Smokes creating shapeless, forgotten figure in the cold air.
Between Goku and his Sun, she'd prefer dealing with the former.
"Is Goku-kun okay?" she hesitated. Her mentor was violent, prickly priest with an explosive temper, he usually restrained himself most of the time. But stupidity was one thing that he could not tolerate.
:"Monkey's asleep.":
He watched her intently, his eyesight was far superior than hers, carefully notice the line of grief in her mouth and face, a tiring existence.
:"Talk to him.":
"But-"
:"Talk to him, starling. Tell the truth.":
"Saitō-."
The birds were chirping, a faint scent of cherry blossoms emerged. The darkness faded, the silhouette of a priest praying for her.
:"Remember, hold nothing.":
As she purposely ejected from her inner world, a masked samurai leaned near him, right at the stem of a tree without leaves, silence and unyielding.
There was a light, shone between a warm, grey ocean of smokes, its shadow reflected in the buds of new blossoms in the barren land, promising an unknown future.
Rukia and Saitō accompanied her to visit the graveyard. Not even once she went there and her little sister was acting like a guide.
She'd paid respect to her parents-in-law, Kuchiki Soujun-sama and his wife. And Ginrei-sama's spouse.
Her grave, with white-stone marble was quiet and unsuspecting. Small, fragrant butterfly bush planted, with white lily of the valley climbed the marker.
The Lady Kuchiki hugged Rukia after that, a feeling of love mixed with regret suppressed into a single act, her little sister was rather dazed from her unusual behaviour.
She was known for avoiding skinship, the thought of other people touching her except her husband and her son greatly disturbed her.
She also prayed.
She'd prayed for her Zanpakutou spirits, trapped in her own soul when they wanted nothing in the afterlife except enjoying the heaven's cherry blossoms, sipping sake, smoking and talking with their old friends, two individuals called Hakkai and Gojyo, as Goku had slipped cheerfully.
She'd cursed fate, prayed and prayed to Kanzeon Bosatsu, to the Goddess of Mercy, her patron; hoping that the she was merciful enough to free them from her, to give Goku and his Sun their frien- no, their family back.
Hold nothing. Life for yourself. On your own side.
She might be a puppet, a moving statue of a priestess.
If her life in the Kuchiki stage was over, she would move out and went home.
Divorce wasn't easy, her son wouldn't be permitted to see her ever again, may be in five hundred years or so, a slight chance that Byakuya's wound started healing.
Her Clan was reduced into ash long ago. She had no one.
At least, Sun had educated her thoroughly. She could run her own temple if necessary.
She'd kissed her own son on his forehead and the back of his hand. Saitō was young, very young, but he understood. Mother was Father's first wife, yet his present wife. Her little boy promised that he would not shed a single tear, as Chichiue complicated things like always.
Her son must've gotten this from Kurosaki-kun.
There hadn't been a law or something that forbade you to marry your wife after she'd died and born again in Soul Society anyways, he added cheekily.
Hōshi smiled, a little sad.
If only a matter of feeling was simpler than the fact.
After a long time, she'd dressed in her own clothes. Dark, almost black green bamboos in blue-velvet midnight background, their leaves were embroidered with golden threads. Small, crimson roses scattered over the garb with their thorns in gold-green hue. Silver obi, decorated with tight beading with tiny black pearls complimented her outfit.
The crown of gold, simple in its geometric design standing proud on her head, hair weaved into a single plait.
She wasn't mocking him by using the same crown that she'd worn during marriage. The crown was her own symbol, the original piece of jewellery that used by the priest and priestess serving in the temple since thousands years ago.
Her fingers touched her Smith & Wesson, hidden in her sleeve, a silver gun that Sun preferred to use. Much faster than swinging her katana around and since she didn't even know her own blade's full name, it was safer to carry the small weapon.
With a resolve from an old woman, an ex-mass murderer who desperate enough to create justice, and a stubborn, prideful priest, a lonely soul began her new journey.
Started by opening the door of her husband's private workplace.
His face was hard, his gaze unwavering with neutrality. There was no anger left, not a cold fury like the last time. Blank and nothing. Not even hatred seeped from his very being.
She refused to back down, stared into those cool grey eyes with her own purple orbs, ignoring the sting, a telltale of tears beginning to be formed.
"I trust you."
And look at what I get, you betrayed my trust.
"I loved Hisana."
Not you. I loved Hisana, the cheerful and defiant woman who was unrelentingly destroyed my wall of defence. Who only had kind bones in her. Not you.
"You are not Hisana."
You are just the woman who fortunate enough to bear my heir. Not my beloved butterfly, my wife, Hisana.
She sketched a short bow and walked back in steady footsteps, The Yagami palanquin was ready on the outside of the Kuchiki courtyard.
In a flash of melancholy, the woman rushed back to him, hands wrapped around his body, her face on his sternum, arms tightly embraced the stunned Kuchiki Lord before letting him go.
The stars were never the same. The Manor was lifeless, cold. Surely, one silent and marble-like woman left couldn't make a huge difference. H-, no he would not call her by those names.
She never laughed, the servants, Rukia and himself had never heard her laughing sound.
Saitō stated that he missed her laughs.
His son was missing one day, his people were busy searching in panicky state, as the Kuchiki heir was gone.
If not for his Lieutenant stumbled across the little boy in the forgotten garden of blossoming plums and wisterias, sitting with a book that Saitō's tutor recommended, he would march to the Yagami's temple and dragged her by the hair and accusing her of kidnapping.
There was no random bird singing in clear morning, no nighttime of tea. Even the retainers and serving people who disliked her, were now asking in her whereabout.
In the quiet wind, he could feel the emptiness in his heart comeback in thousand fold than the first time she left him.
I drove her out. I forced the mother of my child out of the house.
His mind coped with the horrifying realisation.
As his mask slipped, unbidden tears flowed from his usual unshakeable self.
Hisana. What I've done to you?
When Kuchiki Byakuya arrived, the Priestess was walked in the temple's garden. Hellebores, tree peonies with their large flowers in shade of white, scarlet camellias were waving at her, like whispering a soft greeting towards the spring's air.
A suspicious cloud passed and suddenly there was a raining petals, in white and pink, cherry blossoms and plum.
A familiar scent that woke her locked memory up, if this was like the last time, then Byakuya was standing-
There.
His right hand held Senbonzakura's hilt as the other drew a motion gently, carefully manipulated thousand of tiny blades to move the petals of the true flowers.
As her eyes withdrew from the pink rain, she carefully noted the change in every part of him.
Oh.
He was thinner.
His cheekbones became more pronounced and she knew that her own face was gaunt, like an old woman.
One hundred years they had been waiting, mending and forgiving their own broken hearts before fate deemed that their minds and souls were ready facing the truth.
Time passed unnoticed in Soul Society.
She was far-far younger now, after the reincarnation. She was even younger than Rukia, her own little sister.
Byakuya held those skinny arms, cold grey and cool purple stared at each other.
Their stupidity and pride was their downfall.
As his lips touched hers and he deepened the kiss, he'd promised that he would build again, his universe and constellations, by placing the stones of love on the vast night sky, one by one if needed.
End.
Omake
From afar, a blond monk and his monkey observed them.
The reunion was fairly simple. Byakuya got his shit together and thinking rationally with his brain. Byakuya picked up his wife, they rejoiced with tears, confession, hugs and kisses and whatever things that they need to resolve.
Sanzo frankly hadn't given a flying fuck.
Their own home was now full of brightness, with Hakkai's laughter and Gojyo's lecherous jokes finally joined them. And Goku's hungry whines, sake and food, cherry blossoms viewing and fireworks and occasionally they went out to kick those Hollows arses.
Sanzo honestly missed his paper fan to whack the monkey's and the kappa's heads whenever both of them had gotten too rowdy with their stupid fighting.
His wielder's prayer was answered. The four of them were together again.
The inner world was at peace for most the time.
Goku whooped with joy when he saw Saitō waved at them.
Better enjoy this life before Kanzeon threw us into another one. May be a world with proper superheroes who wore masks, kicking those villains in the face and ruled the world, he mused with a rare smile, hand even deigned to ruffle Goku's hair when the monkey grinned at him.
The Goddess of Mercy was still a right bitch though.