Question Of Honor
By SMYGO4EVA
All the captains in the Soul Society were very fickle. They hold the image of stoicism, daunting stances and powerful leaders while on the inside bottled emotions were begging to be open. If they did revealing their flaws and weaknesses, it certainly would be a cathartic experience. The lieutenants would no doubt be stunned of their captains' mirrors being broken. On the other hand, they do try to bring the hidden outside of the box. It's rare when it happens, though.
That was what Rukia Kuchiki thought anyway. It's always something with them, if not every single one of them. Byakuya never even looked at her when she was sentenced for execution. It was a defense mechanism for him, out of guilt. She knew that he couldn't help it. He had a firm belief in law, that all evildoers should be punished. She was labeled as an evildoer since she transferred her powers to Ichigo, a human she learned to trust and respect.
No one could help what circumstances would occur. The Shinigami are souls of nobility, and they fight, kill or protect whoever deserves it, simply through instinct. She didn't know why, but she compared that very notion to one captain named Kenpachi Zaraki. He followed his instincts, and he fought until one would think that he was going to bleed to death. Hell, she would think Zaraki swore that black was white with his aggressive attitude.
He couldn't help that either.
It scared her a little.
You follow your instincts and it turns out to be the wrong one. Quite a paradox, if she thought hard enough.
Rukia looked out of the balcony next to her quarters, the sun casting a glam upon the district of Rukon. She looked down and she almost felt that the black robes she wore were alien to her. The last time she was in the society, she was heading for death's corridor, cursed and scarred, marked as an outcast. Now that she was back, black robe and all, it was as if things hadn't changed.
She left the balcony and proceeded to heads toward the downstairs level for a walk. She felt like she needed it – to clear her head. Her feet felt heavy, but she managed to keep on walking on the wooden floor.
A tiny bit of spiritual pressure crept up on her. She stopped suddenly, but she didn't dare to turn around. It was familiar and strange all the while. Taking a deep breath, she sighed and proceeded toward the stairs.
"Hey, Kuchiki!"
A rough and strong hand turned her around by the shoulder sharply, fear striking her senses. She took a sharp intake of breath before she saw who startled her.
Speak of the devil.
The captain of the 11th Division: Kenpachi Zaraki.
"What? What do you want?" Rukia spat, immediately regretting those words. Zaraki was a formidable adversary: tall, a looming presence, crazy hair and the omen of destruction.
"You tell him."
Her attention sparred, blinking madly at the statement. "What? I don't know what you're talking about – w-what do you want?"
"Your friend."
"Who?"
"Him – Ichigo."
"Tell him what?"
"Tell him he's all right."
"What do you mean he's all right?"
"He's a good boy. He's a strong fighter."
Rukia, out of her wits, preceded to pass him by as she said, "Well, I imagine he knows that."
Zaraki, not to be ignored, barged in front of her, letting her know silently that she wasn't going away so easily, towering over her.
"People talk – but they don't know – It's them that's the bastards. He's all right."
Feigning courage, Rukia stepped out of his way, avoiding him, "You're terrible the way you talk. You tried to kill him in the lust for battle. All because of what I did. No one makes fun of him, and no one laughs at you." She narrowed her eyes to mask her fear, the words coming out of her mouth surprisingly easy to spit out. She was shaking like a leaf.
Out of the corner of his eye, Zaraki followed Rukia's movements. She was afraid. "You tell him – remember who you're talking to." He moved closer.
Clenched fists seized Rukia's hands. "I don't know what you're talking about. I wouldn't tell anyone anything you told me to tell them."
"You tell him."
Rukia took a step back mechanically, cold and cruel words from the captain flooding back to her memory. Zaraki's words had the same feel of apathy. "Just why should I tell him, Zaraki? I only ask why."
He became still at the moment, but not before she saw his eyes blaze over in silent fury. She had planted herself to the floor, and with no fair warning, he stormed over to her. He then grabbed her right shoulder and held her chin tightly, in a vice-like grip. She winced under the forceful contact; she really did it this time. What was she going to do, and more importantly, what was he going to do?
"Listen, you little runt, I may not know much of Ichigo's power, but I know that he risked his life to save you." His voice was harsh, in synch with his tone, but purposeful in its understanding. "You wished to die, didn't you? You were racked with guilt when he became involved with the Soul Society, but he survived. You survived. He fought for you, just so you would be all right. I can't imagine why. He used his own goddamn power to protect you. So stop torturing yourself and move on."
With that said, he released Rukia from his grip and stepped back, his eye staring at her long and hard. "Because Ichigo wouldn't want you to blame yourself. We can't control everything around us, not even us soul reapers."
He walked away without saying another word to her. She looked over her shoulder to see him vanish from her eyes.
Rukia rubbed her shoulder of the ache left from Zaraki's grasp, and found herself pondering. Maybe he was right. Ichigo was a strong spirit and he saved her from her cursed fate, but afterwards, she felt so guilty. She didn't want to be the cause of his death, or for any blood to be spilt on her account. So many questions and answers have overwhelmed the Soul Society, so she saw that it was because of her.
Zaraki must have seen her conflicting psyche in play, her many emotions burdening her mind. To say those things, he must have noticed the cross she had to bear. For a captain with a wild and aggressive demeanor, he was perceptive in a way.
No one knew what was good and evil, like saying that you couldn't tell the difference between black and white. It was always a question of honor to both of them, you might say, a question of where they stood in the Soul Society itself. They would find the answers someday, but not today. Besides, it was a beautiful day.
She raised her hand to shield her face from the sun's glare, the winds of Indian summer pillowing beneath her robe and skin. She let a smile mark her face, and she walked towards the stairs.
(A/N: Inspired by 'The Rimers Of Eldritch', especially with the interaction of the characters Skelly and Eva. They reminded me of Zaraki and Rukia, in a strange and twisted manner.)