Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. I make no profit.
Warning: m. openhanded dialogue. completely re-written.
Beta-Reader: NieveDrop
Strangely Alluring
I
appleschan (Dissonencia-2012)
The sun finally had set, yet it was still too early for Kurosaki and his men to celebrate.
A feat that had Ishida Uryū's eyes narrowed in infuriation and his lips set in their thinnest line, 'what the-?'
Looking into the small noisy meadow left Ishida wondering why on earth he joined the militia when it was so obviously filled with hard-headed idiots.
His experienced and disapproving eyes scanned the area. The messenger clearly said 'move stealthily', and Ishida, looking at their raised temporary fort, wondered what part of 'move stealthily' this resembled?
Is it the tent where there was loud laughter from men and women? Women! Ishida froze, 'In their tent?' Is it the stench of sake that stunk up the place? Is it their army's ensign that hanged in the vicinity, openly announcing that they are here to attack? Or is it the idea of lighting firewood knowing its smoke would spiral out toward the sky and give away their supposed secret location?
Indeed, howvery stealthy.
Ishida frowned, idiots.
Do they not understand the meaning of 'within enemy territory'?
Naturally, in an attempt to quell the small mayhem before it turned into a burgeoning, massive failure, Ishida stomped back to the tent with hurried steps, armed with his impeccable sense of order, spotless clothes, a scary frown, and a grave need to emphasize to his –Oh Heaven bless them- severely uninformed comrades the meaning of classic warfare including surprise tactics and their relative connection to the art of moving stealthily.
'Oh this is bad.' The army's second in command, Ishida Uryū looked around in disbelief as he started to march the beaten pathway towards the tent flap, and from what he could see and hear, it was definitely chaotic. 'Just what on earth did-?!'
As he trudged along the beaten path towards the tent, he took out his water jug and emptied the contents onto the small firewood burning. Watching the fire extinguish gave him a certain kind of relief. At least one faulty mistake was down. He even over-emphasized the use of dimly lit oiled paper lanterns given with complete precaution nary instruction, but still, the idiots insisted with full-fledged fire!
Apart from the fire burning and mess, Ishida had more pressing issues to resolve: the outsiders. Ishida clearly remembered talking to Keigo about the details of keeping their camp safe and secluded; his head ached just thinking about it, oh the effort! He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, this was unsettling. He painstakingly singled out points and definite specificsregarding security and instructions about keeping the strangers around five kilometers radius out.
The Neanderthal was sure to blame this security-breach on him. Ishida moved forward; his frown continued to intensify by degrees as he stared longer at the unfamiliar horses and average-looking palanquin.
When Ishida reached the spot meters away from the flap of the tent, he stopped then took two tentative steps toward the tent, carefully contemplating ways of 'gate crashing' the loud party without inciting gratuitous suspicions and alerting any possible spies inside. He couldn't just carelessly barge in uncalculated.
He looked around, great, no conscious sentinel remained.
Somebody yawned.
Oh wait. There was one. One that miraculously escaped the brain-circulating toxin the sake brought.
His head turned sharply to the left and searched for the mercifully half-awake sentinel.
His eyes scanned the mass of burnt leaves and littered commodities until he found him, a beady eyed boy slumped carelessly on the pile of baggage, eyes and speech slurry. The sentinel with a ruffled inky black hair stared at him blankly before jumping, finally realizing who was in front of him. "You!"
"Sir!" the small sentinel struggled to stand and wobbled feebly. Ishida's eyebrow rose at the stench.
"What happened here? Who on earth are those people inside?" Ishida pointed to the palanquin and horses.
"Huh? Oh-! I mean sir, ju-ju-just Oirans who Asano-san invited for a pre-celebration!"
"Pre-celebration, really?" The unmistakable undertone that promised of something scary in Ishida's voice was picked up well by the sentinel, and despite being under the influence of a good bottle of sake, he quickly backed away, clearing Ishida's way to the tent.
He would have ignored this, given they were in a controlled environment, and if only the consequences were not as critically dangerous as they initially presented. The last time Ishida checked, they're not exactly lugged in the 'pleasant and welcoming' category.
Now filled with strong predilection for orderliness—in a same way that a pyromaniac would never ignore fire—Ishida opened the flap of the tent, bringing with him a wide barrage of tongue-lashing attacks.
Ishida watched the whole scene unfold before him.
"Oh really?"
"AHAHAHA!" His eyes narrowed even more at the shameless laughter that unmistakably came from Asano Keigo. This inconsequential nature-accident-gone-wrong human being called Asano Keigo, couldn't possibly be innocent. The idiot was at the middle of the noisy tent with strange ladies all over him. Of course, the only way for him to get a lady fawning over him is through the use of sake, which was another pressing problem.
Ishida scanned for a mass of blinding orange hair. So it would seem that it was not Kurosaki who spearheaded the celebration. But that didn't mean he had nothing to do with this. Actually, the orange-head oaf is nowhere to be seen. Where was Kurosaki anyway?
Ishida stopped for a while. Mentally calculating the time it took for him to evacuate every single stranger inside the tent. And as far as stranger goes, there are many strangers. And many equates more time. And more time equates more effort, and more effort and time equates Kurosaki arriving here faster. And he arriving here faster means more problems considering the man'sdisagreeable temper.
"Hey! Don't you-! HEY!" Ishida just had to scream to be heard. A normal-volumed voice no longer worked. Everyone ignored him.
Yes, yes. It was absolutely festive. The laughter! The sake, oh the sake! Ishida shut his eye and counted one to ten. Too many people. Too loud. Social function. It was not his distaste for social functions that irked him but how inappropriate it was. He was very anal about the subject of appropriateness, and the army would get an earful out of this. And yes, that included Kurosaki–wherever he is.
Where was Mizuiro, he would not permit such slip-ups?
"Ahh! Ishida-kun! Welcome back, I trust you gained all the necessary information." It was Mizuiro, shouting at him from the other side of the tent.
Ishida felt his head ache.
With all these commotions, Ishida definitely had all the logical reasons to start worrying. First, he –Ishida Uryū, just got back with no knowledge whatsoever about Keigo's merriment.
Ishida prided himself for finding a place within Sereitei's perimeter—their target city—well-hidden by tall trees and thick bushes, creating forestry camouflage; it was perfect in Ishida's opinion.Now what the hell happened to the area? The clearing was left unmanned, the huge trees hid them well, but the sound coming from the tent was sure enough to attract unwanted attention. And they were all engaged in celebration.
Of what? Seriously. Of what?
As far as he's concerned, their process went like this: Celebrate carelessly. Get caught. Fight. Get cornered. Fight again. Die. No more celebrating.
Or maybe in hell, if they allow that.
Technically, there's no reason for celebration.
Ishida looked around for Mizuiro, who beamed back at him, but too bad for Mizuiro, he glared back with his famous icy glare.
With so many things to complain about and so many words to choose from, Ishida only ended up saying, with a carefully controlled low voice, "…Why? And what happened to security?"
"Ishida-kun, welcome back! And before you say anything else, please calm down," Mizuiro said coolly and politely, hoping to deter whatever foul mood Ishida might have. They did't need two angry explosions. "Neither Sado-san nor I had any idea about Asano-san's plans. We just got back-"
"But you were flirting!"
Right, that came out wrong, and Ishida regretted phrasing it like that.
Mizuiro laughed, "Well, as a gentleman, I believe you can't just outright ignore ladies, can you? It is against etiquette, Ishida-san. Hmm, I thought you knew that." He gestured to the ladies who were obviously older than him. Mizuiro continued, "But I must say I was pleasantly surprised, though a little concerned, by what Keigo did."
"Pleasantly surprised? A little concerned?" Outraged, Ishida could only severely glare at the notorious playboy's smooth smile. "Are you even-!" And with an exasperate grunt, he declared, "Mizuiro, we need to clear this tent within-"
"Ishida-kun, please calm down, we've handled Asano-san's idiocy before. I'm sure-"
"Have you seen Kurosaki?" Ishida asked him sharply. Ishida never deducted without prior information and consideration, but if, and only if, that oaf agreed to this, he will render his resignation right here, right now. Oh no way, an irresponsible-
"Oh? Ichigo-kun?" Mizuiro looked seriously wondering, "I cannot say for sure if he went away with a lady or not. He wasn't here when we arrived."
"He's not here? He had no idea about this?"
"I cannot be sure, Ishida-kun-" Then one of the courtesans called Mizuiro, at which the playboy looked back with a charming smile on his face, "Yes, Hanna-san, I'll be back."
"No, you won't," Ishida stated, and he sounded wrong again.
"Mizuiro, I want you to have a precise headcount of all the ladies present—all the outsiders; inform sane soldiers outside, I repeat, sane soldiers; then escort the ladies out quietly and have them followed and monitored. Make sure that they go back to the uhh…brothel together and safely. Beware of Kunoichis."
"Ishida-san, do I have to do it now?" Mizuiro looked back and forth from Ishida to the inviting women with a pained expression and wondered how on earth Ishida was able to put him in such predicament.
"Yes."
Second, they were at the middle of the woods, very far from the safety their land offered as they were juststopping by to carry an order from their Daimyo. Their current location was very unstable and open to any covert or overt attacks.
Ishida eyed every single face unknown to him. This has to be dealt with. And no, not one of them will leave this place without being strictly followed, or if needed, bound and restrained. Well, of course not the ladies, but if they were Kunoichis disguised as prostitutes, they will be dealt with properly, gentlemanly, and with maximum tolerance.
"Ishida." Ishida turned, and Yasutora Sado, one of their high-ranking officers, put a hand on his shoulder.
"Sado-san! Oh thank goodness-"
"Congratulations," Sado said seriously.
"What?"
"Asano told me you went ahead with the mission."
"What?"
"You completed it."
"No, I didn't-!"
"That's why we have to celebrate."
"No. Sado-san, this is clearly willful miscommunication."
"Hmmn."
"Yes, you'll know, but for now, please assist Mizuiro-san with the evacuation of the unwelcomed strangers." Ishida felt his ache even more. He turned around; where the hell was that Asano?
Third, Asano Keigo invited courtesans from the rogue and generally considered lawless district called Rukongai outside the walled city, which was beyond stupidity and next to retardation. For all he knew, some of them could be spies, and everyone knew as a fundamental fact how risky it was to let strangers in your own encampment when you're about to do some… snooping and forced trystwithabduction–as Keigo would have called it.
Accident or not, he would never know. On his way to Keigo, a browned-haired lady with ample, exposed breasts attached herself to his body, snaked two thinly- shaped arms around his neck, drunkenly whispered a blatant sexual invitation from her pouty pink lips, and batted her eye lashes. Ishida stood blushing and uncomfortable.
"Err… no. Miss, please do-"
The woman's eyebrow curled, "Why not? You…hiccup…are…hiccup…boring!" Then she let go of him and walked away.
Ishida was a true gentleman and probably the sincerest gentleman around, according to Mizuiro, who was trying to sugarcoat with pink petals the comment of Ishida being boring and the very definition of a prude. No matter how these ladies fluttered their eyelashes at him or wore inappropriately revealing clothes, he would never flirt and act unmanly towards a lady he's not familiar with, especially when he considered the lady to be in a vulnerable state. And Ishida never flirted. Ever.
Oh wait-
Oh?
Ahh, Asano Keigo. The bravest, the manliest, and the strongest soldier in the wimpy Kurosaki Ichigo's poor excuse of a militia where pansies are all around. The only good thing. The best thing,actually. The man who fought numerous exploits and won all.
At least, according to him and his cock and bull stories that Ishida had the misfortune to hear.
Ishida neared his station without Keigo realizing. He stared up at Ishida before erupting into fits of joyful and drunk laughter. "Iiiishidaaaa-saaan! You're baaack?"
He looked back and saw Sado-san with an unhappy Mizuiro assisting people out of the tent.
Now his eyes returned to the person who started this. Asano Keigo would really get an earful of this.
"You-"
Suddenly, before Ishida could say anything else, Keigo grabbed a lady with disheveled red hair, drunken eyes, and very large bosom, stage-whispering: "Yume-chan! He's the one I'm talkin' bout! Look, didn't I tell you he's a pretty boy—but he's got nothing on me, of course. He's got glasses, so you could say he's pretty smart! And they say he's strong; though I sort of doubt that—but yeah, he totally needs to get laid. Go easy, start it slow; the poor boy is a virgin. So there he is, Yume-chan, go get him!"
"What did you just say?" Ishida started but was cut off when the girl with red hair attached herself to him, "No-"
And fourth, their general doesn't have the slightest inkling about Keigo loitering in the area and blowing their entire cover—not that they had a very solid one to begin with.
Suddenly, just as when Ishida was about to make the announcement, all the crunching feet outside stopped, and a horse was put into halt.
The characteristic collective yelp of men greeting someone was very telling. The rough crunching and hard stomping was also very telling as well as the unmistakable angry grunt.
It seems that Kurosaki Ichigo, the stupid monkey, in Ishida's kindest opinion, has arrived.
Only the oaf could put so much aggravation in the air that it became almost palpable.
Somebody pulled open the thick curtain, and Kurosaki Ichigo haphazardly stepped inside.
Every single movement stopped; all turned to the direction of the newly arrived man with a noticeably heavy, heavy aura.
No one dared to move except a pair of grave and menacing amber eyes that hovered from Ishida and the clinging lady to the occupants of the room, both those welcomed and unwelcomed.
Silence.
It seems that nobody outside had the guts to tell the feared general whatever was happening inside his tent as the said man stopped in his tracks and eyed them all, mouth agape and without disguising his shocked and annoyed air.
More silence.
He wore an expression that completely could be read as 'what the hell is this?' or translated to 'get the hell out of here!' to the occupants of the room. This was actually his tent. And he's the general…
Everyone stared at the man. He looked…not his best. There he stood in his towering height, face set in his undying scowl, and hair in the meanest shade of orange, unruly with leaves entangled to it. His black jin-haoriheavily covered in dirt and grime and slightly parted at the front, giving the ladies present in the tent a teasing glimpse of his toned chest. Few tiny scratches lined his arms and face. And in his hands: his left held a sheathed black sword, and the other clutched a net-sack of live and fiercely thrashing, fluffy white rabbits. He looked fairly primal, like a true Neanderthal who got out of his cave and hunted.
Two ladies audibly whispered directly in front of Kurosaki Ichigo, not bothering to hide the reddish tints in their smooth cheeks and the shameless estrogen-coated looks they shot him. Unfortunately, the general saw, heard, and turned to them.
Then there was a pregnant pause…
And angry huff and a…
"WHAT THE…"
Some say that Kurosaki Ichigo was just plain rude.
"…HELL…"
And they were right.
"…IS THIS?!"
But to his defense, he was clearly surprised. And not so benevolent at the moment...
Without benevolence, he snarled: "OUT! NOW!"
He roared with so much force and without hesitation that the cup Keigo was holding dropped and shattered on the floor. For some reason, the crowd froze.
He raked his fingers through his vibrant mane. Screw how rude that was! He's tired. And they're intervening in his personal space, personal tent! Ichigo looked around his crowded tent and focused his eyes longingly to his lovely cot. The hard, old, and slightly raised platform was his only comfort. Yeah, it wasn't lush or soft or silky or freaking cottony, but to him, the thick, old fabric-covered wood was his happy haven.
And now, there were six asses currently hanging there—one of them Keigo's. And from the looks of it, Ishida was also about to desecrate his sleeping space.
Oh fucking hell no.
"Everyone, out NOW!" he repeated, stronger and rougher this time. Meaner and more dangerous. Not caring of the complexities behind this en masse of unwelcome people.
Oh damn shit! It's his freaking tent!
"Well, you heard him. Please leave-" It was Ishida who spoke through gritted teeth, in the middle of the frozen crowd, trying to stay calm and facilitate this in a normal, non-panicky way, but then, hell broke lose, just like that. He immediately ripped the lady's embrace and urged her to go with the crowd. The crowd closest to the tent flap was the luckiest since they get to leave first and dodge whatever Kurosaki might throw at them.
"Ladies, please." He ushered Sado and Mizuiro to continue escorting the confused and scared ladies out of the tent.
"You." Kurosaki turned to Ishida, shot him a very dangerous glare, "Stay."
"I wasn't planning on leaving, Kurosaki," Ishida answered snidely. Right, of course, Kurosaki would lash out on him. He's the damn second in command. This life was joyful, Ishida thought grimly.
"Oh? Ichigo is into that?" Keigo drunkenly blurted as he was dragged away by Mizuiro.
"Oh don't worry, Asano-san, I'm sure Ichigo-kun will deal with you later."
"Um…'Deal with me'? Ohahaha, don't scare me, Mizuiro-kun. I'm not into that! I want jiggly jiggly, warm massive boobs, ya know! Yeah sure, I mean if I was a woman, sure I'd love to see Ichigo naked and all sweaty but my preference is the other way. I don't think dicks are delicious, and I'd rather not take it in the ass…"
At hearing this, Ishida was glad that no maiden female was in the army for this pervert to taint.
"I mean, he'll probably pound you for starting an unapproved revelry in his tent," Mizuiro corrected his wild assumption.
"Pound me?" he asked.
"KEIGO!" Ichigo spat warningly, and the said man shut up. He turned to the playboy, "Oi Mizuiro, make it painful."
Mizuiro smiled, "Don't worry, Ichigo-san. We'll throw him to the wolves."
Ichigo smirked evilly, "Fine, but I want first dibs on this bastard."
"All right. We'll tie him like a dirty hog then before we throw him."
"Upside down. And repeatedly bash him." Ichigo added.
Mizuiro smiled, "Yes, of course."
"Oh, come on!" Keigo moaned in a corner.
"Mizuiro-san, I get to throw him." Ishida remarked. After all, this was his fault. "Oh and Mizuiro-san, I want a detailed report on how you chose to do nothing about this revelry, knowing that this was unauthorized and instead went to join them." Ishida smirked at Mizuiro. Of course, it's not just his fault. He'll certainly make sure to mention that.
Hearing this, Ichigo turned to Mizuiro "You what-?"
And Mizuiro never hurried to get out of a tent like that before.
On the way out, Ishida shot Mizuiro meaningful look to have the ladies followed back and strictly monitored, of which Mizuiro already knew and nodded. Ishida had an inkling one of the ladies fished out information. It's too easy to figure out.
Either way, they would have to move tonight and be gone in the morning.
After the barrage of people cleared the tent, Ishida stood in the middle, keeping his stern composure as Kurosaki's full glare hit him head on. Oh right, he was still in the hot spot.
"THE HELL IS THIS SHIT, ISHIDA?!" Kurosaki thundered the moment the last woman was escorted out of the tent.
When under the heated irises of Kurosaki, a normal human being would crumble down and run to his mother, but Ishida, a fiercely experienced veteran with regard to Kurosaki's bouts of tantrums, met him with a stern and an equally unyielding glare.
"Well?!" Kurosaki barked once more.
Cool and crisp, Ishida's voice held no sign of intimidation. "Appalling excuse as it may be, I just got back from gathering intelligence, and I am wholly unaware of this farce, Kurosaki." Ishida's face contorted into a grimmer glare, and thin line that was his mouth became thinner.
"How could you not know?" Ichigo shouted back. He paced the entire tent, snatching foreign objects and throwing them outside. "It's my tent," he mumbled angrily.
"Of course, it—" Kurosaki was acting like child.
"Goddamn it. This is why we can't have nice things!" He spat as he picked up another kimono. A lot of ladies surely went home naked. God damn them.
"Well, that is—"
Ichigo was never one for whining about things that were already done. "Wait, what about the security? Did someone?"
"It is most probable. But I already ordered all the strangers be followed," Ishida answered him in his overused arid tone.
"Damn it. Just be sure to deal with Keigo properly. And make sure there would be no more incidences of breach."
Ishida eyed his general; he looked quite calm already. "Well…seeing that you, Kurosaki, got your initial shock quite controlled, I would like to inform you that I have completed the initial assessment." Ishida sounded grim. He wanted to tell Kurosaki other things he discovered, but he would have to reorganize his mind first if he was going to convince Kurosaki of what?.
"Right. Ishida," Kurosaki answered nonchalantly.
Ishida spared him an estimating look. He knew Kurosaki wasn't very excited when presented with the details. He hated this type of work.
"You could display a little more enthusiasm, you know."
"Shut up."
"Fine." He would explain a little later then.
"Now Kurosaki if I may ask? Where have you been?" It's now Ishida's turn to get mad.
Ichigo shot him a dirty look before answering. "Food," he grumbled out ungratefully.
"Excuse me?"
"I looked for some damn food," he repeated then threw the bunnies at the corner of the tent. Ishida looked at them with something opposite to antipathy. "Kurosaki, are you seriously contemplating of eating these…these animals?" Ishida almost said fluffy animals.
"For the sake of sustenance, yeah," Ichigo answered nonchalantly.
"How can…? Well, you do know that some people keep them as pets and—"
"Shut it, and please, nobody likes these pesky rodents." Kurosaki threw the fluffy animals a dirty look.
Ishida shook his head, "I still don't think—"
"Unless, you can get us some chickens! Will you? Good! Now go, Ishida, get us chicken or pork, and I will release the rabbits."
"Vegetables! Have you ever heard of vegetables? There's plenty of—"
"No, Ishida. It's not open for debate."
"I don't understand, we have food to last us ten days—even with an appetite like yours and theirs, mind you," Ishida said, shaking his head.
Ichigo shrugged, "Ask Keigo," he retorted, jerking his thumb at the open flap. "He FORGOT to tie the food and supplies to the horses." He gave the open flap a dark look as if it would reach Keigo. "Though I thought it's near impossible to commit mistakes like that."
Suddenly, a voice erupted from the flap, "It was an accident, Ichigo! The horses suddenly—"
"Ah shut it, Keigo. It's no accident!" Kurosaki shouted back. He was still throwing foreign stuff from his tent.
"Hey! I swear—"
"Sorry, Ichigo-kun, Ishida-kun. Asano-san tried to escape but we have him gagged," Mizuiro's little head bobbed from the open flap and offered them a reassuring smile.
"But of course, remember the poor souls of these bunnies, Asano. It's your and Kurosaki's fault," Ishida stated dismissively.
"What the hell?" Ichigo said just as a boy entered the tent, bringing him a fresh set of clothes with a big bowl of peaches, and another boy followed and carried a basin of water. "Sometimes it's like I have to feed several starving families the way these men eat, you know." Ichigo stripped off his dirty clothes, took the basin from the boy, and poured all the contents in his head, ignoring Ishida's disgusted look. "Wore the hell out of me." He shook his head like a dog, reached out a hand and grabbed a firm peach from the bowl and took a big bite from one of its round cheeks before he put his clean clothes on.
He and Ishida proceeded to exit the tent just in time to see Keigo, without his gag, and the rest of army cleaning up. He just went outside to check on the clearing.
"You are by far the crudest, roughest ape I know, and I've seen some with exceptionally better mannerisms," Ishida's dry irritating tone attacked his ears, for the nth time.
"Aw Ishida! But that's what made the girls swoon! Ain't that right, Ichigo?" Somehow, at the mention of ladies, Keigo perked up from his tied down position and leered at Ichigo, who was still shaking his head. He was tied on the outside pillar of Ichigo's tent. "It's the roughness that ladies dig! He's like a wet wolf oozing with danger, and ladies crave just that," he said like it is some piece of celestial declaration worthy of praise. Of course, it'swhat he strived to be.
"What? I digress." Shaking his head, Ishida plowed on, "Ladies have more sensibilities, are wiser, and choose men who can provide a sufficient monetary budget, time for his family, a warm home, and complete devotion."
But Keigo had a firm belief. "Nahhh Ishida, ladies love those really rough, bad boys! And you're a flimsy prude; no wonder you're still a viiirgiiin!"
"Asano—!" Ishida started warningly, but Ichigo cut him off.
"Yeah Keigo, don't hurt his delicate feelings. We all know Ishida here—"
"And you too, Kurosaki, shut it."
There stood Kurosaki Ichigo: the intensity and rawness that emanated from him paralleled his position of power.
From his blinding hair color to the sharp outline of his jaw to his striking posture, a brasher man had not existed these twenty-six years.
In another city, he might have been considered too callous, uncouth, and boorish to be given such a high position in military. Loose cannon, they would say. They feared his blatant disregard of orders and at times, loathed his barefaced insolence. But his city made use of him quite well and managed to ignore his downsides in exchange for innumerable winnings. Even the man's signature hair color became so known that it evolved into a reflex to look out for a mop of orange before attacking.
Coming from a family of military leaders for generations, Ichigo entered the militia at a young age. His father claimed that Ichigo knew about sword-swinging before he could even walk.
At a young age with a very promising talent, he rose to the top of militia, surpassed those who are older than him, and surprised those who underestimated him. Although it came to no surprise to those who knew about their clan that the young Kurosaki superseded his father, as expected. At twenty-two, he became the commander of the most powerful Daimyo's army. At twenty-three, he had proven his worthiness in battle and had won his city several spoils of war, Daimyo lands, and their prime holdings. At twenty-five, he already achieved the extraordinary and conquered half of the lands in his horizon. Now twenty-six and nowhere near slowing down, he had the same spunk he had when he was fifteen and starting.
And every damn mission felt like a first, but he treated it like it's his last.
"Ichigo-kun, what should we do with this?" Mizuiro asked nicely, referring to the discarded kimonos Ichigo threw away.
"I don't know, burn it."
It's also a known fact that women throw themselves at him, with variations of nudity. Apparently, the humor about him not only being a stalwart general but also a desirable and attractive man circulated nationwide. He is still an eligible bachelor and this, this piece of mannish information spread around the nation like an unstoppable plague treated with something akin to divine deference. Much more like: a god isn't married yet, rejoice!
"How many hours left, Ishida?" he asked, not looking at his lieutenant but intent on finding the bowl of peaches, the only viable food around.
"We still have a plenty of hours before Seireitei sleep. The guard-changing time is not for five hours." Ishida thought it might be the best time to tell him his other discoveries, "Kurosaki, I want to talk about something—"
But Ichigo waved him off, "No, I'll just nap first. These freaking bunnies were hard to catch."
"Kurosaki, might I remind you that this is important—!"
"Yeah, later."
"Rukia-sama…"
A maid dressed in a pale green, simple kimono entered a long hallway decorated with quiet elegance. She continued to walk with her practiced light and breezy steps until she reached a closed fusuma doors. She kneeled down in front of fusuma doors, carefully opened the fragile wood and paper door, and entered noiselessly.
"Rukia-sama."
Kuchiki Rukia looked back at her personal maid and friend.
She was alone in a moderately spacious room with the shoji screens fully opened, watching the sunset in riveting motion.
"Here is your tea. I figured you would want some warm beverage; it's very cold tonight…A storm is coming…" The maid held out a polished wooden tray with a small tea set and a small plate of thinly sliced strawberries.
Rukia smiled and uttered, "Thank you."
The maid bowed down. And she stood in the corner while Rukia slowly reached for the tray. She took the cup gingerly and stared at the strawberries, noticing how vibrant they were. She reflected upon how they wouldn't see much of them in this season before the maid snapped her out of her thoughts.
"Please, Rukia-sama, tell me I will see you tomorrow."
For some reason, Rukia found it hard to respond truthfully, so the best and honest answer was,
"Maybe…"
A few hours ago.
Being the functioning brain in their army, Ishida had to decide what kind of strategy to use to secure immediate success. In an old Ishida fashion, he insisted he had to identify objectives, make assessments, gather information, set limits, restructure resources, and plan the escape route. He made several points about the importance of war tactics and made an impromptu lecture about faction survival, but as expected, only a handful listened.
The job fell on him by default because everyone saw him as someone who would be willing to spend time pouring over books and key strategies. Perhaps the only thing keeping his attention was the prospect of discovering how the other monarchy's defense worked because it was completely shut out to them.
After ending his speech, with everyone except Sado and Mizuiro giving him pointy glares, a wild debate ensued, courtesy of a statement from his unhappy general.
We do not have the time to prance around, Ishida," Ichigo spat at him.
Ishida adjusted his glasses and returned Kurosaki's menacing glare with his cold one, "And I take it Kurosaki that you have a better plan?"
"Yes."
"Well, I'm just exhilarated to hear it," Ishida snorted without any trace of excitement, wondering if the baboon commander really did have a mind-blowing plan. "Well?"
And when Kurosaki scratched his head and said nothing, Ishida let out his smuggest smile.
After yelling at Kurosaki that his stealth moves are worth crap, at Yasutora Sado-san about how his height and different appearance would drag too much attention, and at Keigo for bringing them all down—a fate worse than the enemy marauding them, Ishida and Mizuiro were left as the only ones who actually could scout and gather information. But thinking carefully, Mizuiro's first destination would be where the ladies were. Ishida's sure Mizuiro had his own ways and could execute whatever duty given to him in almost the same way he does, and Mizuiro had an extremely calm demeanor. But it's a question of not losing focus, and he couldn't risk him talking openly to ladies. Who knows? It's a definite strategy to use them as spies.
Ishida, in his perfect ploy as an extremely skilled artisan selling well-made Kimonos, pottery, and art crafts, skimmed through the district 'looking' for a 'merchant' to 'help' him 'sell' his works.
And so Ishida embarked on his espionage only after he dealt with a crestfallen Keigo and an irate Kurosaki.
Though there's one thing that could bring his undercover plans down: his social skills. Though they were, at least, fairly decent.
Ishida had to admit, this jōkamachi—or castle city—was thriving. He was raised in a similar environment, but not as elaborate as this. The outermost wall and succeeding walls surrounding the castle city itself presented considerable obstacles to an invading army, as if the large wood and rock gates manned by armed sentries weren't hints enough.
Ishida suddenly found himself slightly gawking, but then after realizing he must have looked like an open-mouthed goldfish, he mentally berated himself and headed to the pristine white-walled entrance. The castle designers and master architects must have predicted the possible occurrence of sieges and wars and designed these complex walls as a primary tactical defense. Even from afar, Ishida could see the traps laid within the ramparts. He and his general would have to break this later tonight. How bothersome…
He passed through the gate and surveyed the sight; he wasn't even at the main city yet, damn the walls. Behind the gate was a large space, and from the look of it, this was where they detained those unlisted and suspicious persons for later questioning. They had organized ways of sorting those who enter based on different business. Ishida heard one of the guards say, 'It's for traffic control,' but Ishida knew far better reasons. By entering the designated entryway and subjecting the visitors to numerous body searches and surname substantiations, they kept all the outsiders on track and discovered if any of them was under disguise.
And then there's another high wall with roving archers. Beneath the high walls were noticeably small doors.
This stirred the brain cells in him.
Ishida presumed the castle designer thought, in the event that an army managed to pass the perimeter and large gates, they'd be cramped here heading for the small door, creating a bottleneck. And the archers from those high walls could readily massacre them from above using bows or set traps like fireballs and hot sands to prevent them from entering further.
Simple thinking but it created devastating damages. But then, if their defenses failed and the city was under attack, isn't it the same for them if they try to flee? Unless they had secret passages, they were trapped.
Which led Ishida into thinking they really did have secret passages.
He arrived at the city, passed through the guards and set of gates using fake but realistic entry permit, and began walking with his cart, eyes darting side to side. He tried to blend in as much as possible, though he knew his social skills were slightly higher than Kurosaki's.
And he must admit, Seireitei was a thriving city—much like their own. More than their own.
Ishida walked further and spotted several high yagura manned by sentries. He bowed at samurais; he knew samurais had the legitimate power to chop off your head if commoners didn't bow before them, at least he knew to whom to show respect so as not to attract authority. Unlike Kurosaki, the oaf probably didn't know this fact, would refuse to bow, and would blow their feeble cover, single-handedly starting an instant riot.
There's the outermost wall, the city inside, and at the heart and edge of the city lay the main compound barricaded by another set of more complex walls and wary guards.
Building a castle with numerous walls meant one thing: the ruler was wary of his enemies and sincerely wanted to protect his domain… or just plain paranoid with unhealthy obsession for walls.
People stared at him in suspicion (even he thinks he's suspicious), giving him curious looks as to what a young man like him is doing here, pulling a large cart. He's obviously out of place; one look and they knew he's a clear stranger. The whispering old ladies and pointed looks he received were clue enough. Ishida thought he must do something. Diversion! So he stopped his cart, pulled out his hat, removed the cloth covering his collection of items, presented an array of shiny notable pieces, and stood behind the cart in an announcement that he was here for trade.
Instantly, he saw a woman's eyes widen in his direction, looking at the neatly folded black kimono with gold swirl patterns. He heard people around him 'oooh' and 'ahhh'; some scampered forward to get a good look, and some were already asking prices.
He let out a thin smile, and his covert 'business' boomed.
But then he thought: preposterous! How could he be suspicious when he's wearing white?
He claimed he's a young traveling craftsman who lost his family in a feud between daimyos, now he struggled to support himself using his talent, and that these crafts were solely made by him (the only true part). When he told Kurosaki his cover story, the oaf laughed rudely and told him his creativity was retarded as hell and no one's stupid enough to believe it. However, seeing that his kimonos were the most sold item, some ladies here obviously thought he was a fine, young, talented man with excellent hands for creating exquisite garments.
This thought brought a very smug smile to his face; he had information and money and ladies admiring his hand-sewn kimonos. It was an excellent cover, he had to admit.
True, his social skills and acting sucked, but his impressive collection of items made up for his deficits so much that he didn't have to convince anyone to buy his crafts. They instantly flocked to his cart. And when they were too busy plowing through his items, he asked the subtlest questions he could claw out, starting with clients, of course.
"This is a fine silk, son, where did you get it?" one woman queried, caressing the supple fabric.
"My late mother spun it for us. My family is in weaving business."
"Oh, this looks so… so finely made… something like a lordship would wear."
At the mention of the word 'Lordship', Ishida perked up; it was information extraction time.
"Oh? Do you think the Daimyo's daughter will like this fabric?"
"Well, I'm not sure about that. They have weavers, you know."
"Oh. What about the nobles? Do you think I can manage a deal with them?"
"With these fine works, I highly doubt they will refuse you. See that?" The woman pointed to a tall white wall, but Ishida could not see beyond the height of the pristine walls. "That's where the nobles live—extremely wealthy families."
"How…?"
"Well, to do business with them, you need to have different kind of permits, and honestly, the whole entry permit is the most pestering part because obviously, they will never let you enter without one. And it's specifically hard to procure those."
Ishida thought it's alright to be dumb sometimes, "Can I enter without entry permit?"
"No silly!" the lady laughed, "There's a reason why they're called entry permits!"
"What if I'm doing business?"
"Still, security is tight. You have to get permit just to see them and another to talk to them!"
"Oh!? Do you know how I can get these entry permits?"
Then she took a great huff and said in a deathly whisper, "See that building?" She discretely pointed to a large green guard post and continued, "You have to get through four checkpoints and be ready for them to strip you naked to search for hidden things, naked! And they will verify your family name through the registry, then the head guard will approve your entry if you're not suspicious. And you'll have guards escorting you throughout your stay."
Ishida's eyes widened, and he gulped. A feeble attempt at acting.
"Sounds like a lot of hassle… and um, stripped naked?"
"Yes and well… they don't really approve unknown and nameless traders, so I suggest you don't just go there without a formal request from any of the noble families," the lady advised.
When she looked at Ishida and detected the 'dejection' on his face, she continued, "But if you really want easy access…" Ishida leaned in closer, "…ask Jidanbou. He's the gatekeeper from the west. He's kind, but you wouldn't want his double axe chasing you."
Ishida's jaw dropped—another feeble attempt at acting, of course. "D-d-double axe?"
"Yes. Though I don't know what the other three are wielding. Double axes look scary, but he's the nicest guard we know. Do you want to meet him now?"
"N-no thank you, I'd rather not. I mean… maybe later." He intentionally started fidgeting, hoping the dangerous marksman in him isn't obvious.
"Ooh," the woman cooed, "Don't be so scared now. Out of four gatekeepers, he's the nicest. Though he's not on duty in the morning, so if you want to talk to him, do it during the afternoon. Security ishigher as the day dies, and they place him as an extra precaution."
"Precaution?"
"Oh yes!" the lady trudged closer to him, "You see, we're heavily laden with threats! If I were you, I wouldn't pass this gate after nightfall, extremely harassing! The other gatekeepers are very huge and strict about outsiders. Plus you'll never know when to meet kind guards because the guard-changing time is constantly varying to confuse outsiders, but I think it follows a certain pattern set at different times each day, and I can tell you some of the guards are not nice, especially to skinny individuals," she remarked, eying him from head to toe.
Ishida looked at her questioningly—intentionally giving her the idea of sneaking in.
"And don't try to sneak in! Even if you think the guards aren't looking, there are those in charge with hidden surveillance. You might be surprised that you're still being watched."
The lady almost whispered, "My son worked inside as a pageboy, he said it's extremely strict within the regal walls. He couldn't even eavesdrop without risking his head! He said, a lot of unauthorized visitors get beaten for sneaking, and they constantly rummaged every package! Paranoid if you ask me."
Somehow, Ishida found a way to convert his customers' seemingly harmless questions and simple conversations and turned it into valuable ones riddled with information.
He spent his day inside the walls extracting information in a nonchalant way, innocently pretending he was trying to get to the gates and sell. He got lucky with the old man at the ramen stand; he was a former guard at the house of the current minister, and apparently, he liked to brag. He provided Ishida with a detailed explanation of the head's residence. Ishida insisted it was out of fascination. Although Ishida was so sure the topic was taboo and shouldn't be discussed in broad daylight, no guard came to reprimand them.
He proved the tight security was not all talk. There were four gatekeepers; the place was crawling with security. With this horde of overt security and even more covert security, it was little wonder they weren't able to bring their defense down for years.
Seemingly impressed with his own work, Ishida decided to go back to the encampment. He was pleased to arrive forty minutes earlier than planned, bringing with him a plethora of valuable information. One by one, he ran through his mentally-prepared checklist: primary surveillance done, entrance and exits assessed, number of guards and changing times memorized, main buildings plotted out, and important people's locations mapped. Now the only problem was to get Kurosaki moving.
Kuchiki Rukia stared at the waterfalls.
The gossamer water reflecting the moon shone brightly. The bamboo raft stayed still. She looked closer, and it's like she could smell the wonders of the small paradise surrounding her. One graceful flick of her neck and her eyes fell on the leaves that looked like they're fluttering under the swift night wind.
Then her eyes traveled to the small fishes of red and gold near the rocky side of the river; it was nice to see, but something pulled her attention towards the assemblage of tall bamboo trees in the far corner. It looked dark, inviting, and mystifying, like there was something sinister hidden in the depths of it, but still… the whole scenery was riveting.
But all of this little bliss remained suspended in an image because she had never seen one in actuality.
Because she was, in fact, sitting in the middle of a room where the fusuma sliding doors and oshiire or closet were painted and made to look like she was in the middle of a paradise it showed—the midnight waterfalls.
The art was just so surreal that she wondered if the artist had seen this in person or whether it was a fabricated product of his or her imagination.
She sat alone in a spacious room, dressed in a casual red maple leaf designed furisode, by no means as grand as what other nobles inferred her to be, hair in a loose bun held by double oriental hair sticks, letting strands of her hair fall on her cheeks. Solemn. She looked quite peaceful, not expected of woman who was anticipating an attack tonight.
The shoji screens were open wide—wide enough to let her see, in full motion, the sundown. The moment the thin red-orange tint hit her skin and she felt the sundown's last heat permeated her clothes and skin, she knew it was time. There was no backing out.
She looked back at the well-drawn fusuma, wondered just how long this fragile paper and wooden sliding door would withstand Kurosaki and his ostensibly crude way of things, and heaved a sigh.
Kurosaki Ichigo.
Rukia had heard old men around their city talk about the much feared man; they say that if one hit a wall and if the wall was shaped like Kurosaki Ichigo, then the creator must really hate him.
Rukia simply dismissed these talks and regarded them as heresy, nothing more than an exaggerated description of the man. Such things did not exist, and there could not be a man of such valor,just no way.
And now, now that there were current multiple wars going on between Daimyos, Rukia could only wonder when Kurosaki, under his Daimyo's order, would attack Seireitei. Some say that the idea was still far-fetched since they never showed interest in Seireitei; some were relatively positive that Kurosaki would never attack and quite sure of it. But their fear made itself possible when they received news of a group of shinobi that entered Seireitei's vicinity, targeted their Daimyo's daughter, and attempted to abduct her for leverage purposes. They failed because Seireitei was warned early and able to double security. A few days later, they were warned again, warned that this time, Kurosaki Ichigo would be the one coming.
But they were warned only a few hours ago while the attack was set to take place a few hours from now.
Such a short time.
Such a short and inconvenient time when her brother, his lieutenant, and Ukitake weren't here. The heads of military all gone.
Timing was ridiculous. Getting the message to them was now considered late and pointless. Kuchiki Byakuya was in another domain, and they needed a full day of travel to reach him. Abarai Renji was on his way to where Kuchiki Byakuya was, and Ukitake was recovering from an illness in a far away place; it would take hours and hours of travel. And the attack was just a few hours away.
It was definitely urgent and chaotic. Rukia immediately called for meetings, despite others pursing their lips because of her inexperienced state and disbelief in her capabilities. But she stood her ground; she needed to, being the sister of Kuchiki Byakuya. The remaining held immediate meetings and resource checks, including the safe passages, in case things get out of hand. There was no choice. They needed to plan and move fast with whoever was left of them, and they could not risk public panic, as it would cause more mayhem, so only a handful knew about. It was a stealth attack with a very low number of attackers similar to the last one, except that it'sKurosaki.
And that lone name struck so much apprehension.
Defining their objective and countering it was their priority, and they confirmed that it was still the same objective: abduct the princess. Hiding the Daimyo's daughter had become top priority. And Rukia asked soldiers to evacuate the princess using the underground passage that led to her safe and secret shelter. They didn't need to worry, yet, about the sick Daimyo himself, as his presence was not here but away recuperating. His safety was guaranteed from a recent, reliable report—Abarai's report, actually. And while they were getting the Daimyo's daughter out, Rukia proceeded to work on the defenses and how would they handle him.
Some said attack them now; some asked to wait for the full report. Rukia opted to wait for the full report from the spies she sent out. When it was confirmed that it's just Kurosaki and his Marksman who would enter the vicinity, Rukia thought of a secured method. But its major drawback was that it would seriously put her in danger and would never earn approval from her brother.
But things were urgent, and the last thing she needed was his approval.
It was not out of arrogance but out of obligation that she volunteered herself. She proposed the plan, and when she announced they need someone willing to lure him, nobody was very keen on accepting the job. So it fell on her by default, and she understood that no one would be responsible other than her.
After a full minute of silence, a lot occurred to her. But she thought it's the perfect time to prove herself …and maybe, if things turned out well, she may create for herself a drastic change in life.
Tonight, Kurosaki Ichigo planned to come to Seireitei and attempt to accomplish what the group of shinobi couldn't. And also tonight, Rukia prepared to pose as their princess to effectively draw him out, and possiblycapture him, ending their band's terrifying reign.
Though realistically speaking, it was difficult—the impossible-to-achieve kind of difficult.
He was…something. His name hit the 'Top-Priority' list of people with whom to be specifically cautious, being the man who made history with his fast exploits.
Overseeing the whole preparation in such short time had her busy beyond rest, ensuring everyone's' safety. It's true that they would use a simple ambush attack. No need to prepare something grand and complex when it all would boil down to brute strength, and the capacity to subdue him would be of utmost importance. The man had broken out of simple to complex traps before; it wouldn't be of much use.
He was… infamous for rushing headlong without a single thought; this might actually benefit their plan. But then, she wasn't very sure as she had never seen the man before and had yet to confirm if the man really did not follow a strategic fight plan or was a complete dunderhead.
However, his second in command might be another actual threat; he is said to be as sharp as his aim. Rukia had left specific instructions that if ever they encounter the marksman with a penchant for wearing white: don't let him put distance, go for his arms andinjure his wrists immediately, no questions asked. Or they would die by his arrows.
They had a reputation to maintain. Along the other cities, lands had not fallen to the most powerful Daimyo's conquest through Kurosaki Ichigo.
The Daimyo who was after them was the biggest and the most powerful; though much of his holdings were courtesy of his army's commander, Kurosaki Ichigo, which proves that he wasn't stupid, he's just unpredictable.
This particular Daimyo lord had different domains, different cities that some said were quickly becoming an empire of its own, an uncontrollably fast growing almost empire. They practically owned most of the lands; it has become outrageous.
Not to mention that it was a direct contradiction to the orders of the Shogun himself to refrain from excessive claiming of lands of others. Rumor had it they were planning something big and conquering others was simply a part of the plan. That included stepping on Seireitei, which owned the vast majority of wealth and trade. A good exploitable resource.
After tonight, their han would have to send message to the Shogun himself to warn him of possible, questionable actions of the said Daimyo.
Rukia faced the door and was pleased that it wasn't opened for her. The maids already left her alone. At least she could ensure their safety. Rukia gripped the rectangular handle, opened it smoothly, and stepped out of the room to the desolate and eerily quiet hallway.
All she had to do now was wait for him. Wait. And so she would wait in the quiet and empty grand Kuchiki ceremonial manor.
…
Rukia had been living with the nobles for sixteen years.
At the tender age of eight, she was adopted and given a view that there was a place where people didn't starve.
She was originally from the lawless, seventy-eighth district of Rukongai, not far from the thriving Seireitei. It was a happy and wondrously welcoming place for gamblers, prostitutes, killers, and criminals but a solid hell on earth for hapless kids like her.
Her entrance into the world of nobility was such news that it shook the whole conurbation down to its foundation.
The ruler's first impression of Rukia was that she was a scrawny little brat with a fragile body, transparent skin, and odd large eyes—weird features jumbled up together to form a human. An unwanted, bland alien in the sea of humane beauties, toxic doves, and polite monsters.
But that was a decade ago. And the allure in her didn't go unnoticed as the daimyo of Seireitei supported the Kuchiki clan head's decision of adoption, dismissed all the other nobles' apparent detest, and insisted Rukia wasclean.
And then gossip and intrigues became part of her everyday life. This life was no different from the once she had before, just with better clothes and a never-ending food supply.
She was, of course, the dark subject of every party in their hushed secretive exchange behind those expensive paper and silk fans held by their dainty noble palms, the target of brutally malicious intrigue, and the disdain of every dignified high birth. Forced respect laced with unspoken derogation.
The nobles congregated together detesting her, appalled at the idea of a Rukongai street-rat suddenly above them. They had the Daimyo's daughter, and she was treated as the 'princess' of Seireitei, but the newly adopted lady Kuchiki was getting both unwanted positive and negative reactions, pushing the 'princess' into the shadow, making Rukia an undeclared princess.
And the nobles saw this as an insult and milled countless rumors about how bad the adopted Kuchiki was. Nobles used this to gossip about the Kuchiki lady to provoke her into doing nasty things that were very unbecoming of a noble. But they failed to realize that the rumors were partly the reason of Rukia's large recognition.
The only reaction they received from Rukia was stone-cold silence—something that angered them even more. Even the blameless Daimyo's daughter, who preferred to remain in the shadow, was innocently dragged on this gossip to try and belittle the adopted Lady Kuchiki. She and the princess shared the same sentiments and experienced the harsh noble intrigue years before Rukia did. When the princess herself ran off with a lowly, detestably poor individual, she was caught back. It was a typical scenario for chained nobles, and since then, the matrons hated the princess.
It became normal practice for these matrons to find something abominable about anyone around them, and it didn't matter if one was true noble or not. Because if the matrons hated someone, they hated them and continued to hate them until after they died.
Her words were true, and Rukia had been living that way every single day for sixteen years now. And she's alone.
But she learned to turn a deaf ear to them, not that it bothered her too much, just simply wishing that someday they would find something to talk about that actually mattered and not let the organ in their heads to go waste. She still bowed down and politely greeted them out of respect for their position while getting their scornful and heated remarks in return.
Now the undeclared Kuchiki clan princess of the nobles walked the silent halls of the Kuchiki mansion with such sure grace that the matrons stared at her in deep loathing. How could a poor street rat like her have such an elegant walk? Nobles bowed at the current princess of the noblest of all noble clans but not without wishing she would do something dimwitted or dirty and land her back in her place.
A decade passed, but everyone in the high society still loathed her.
She entered the silent halls of the Kuchiki manor. Footsteps ever so silent. Years of living with Kuchiki Byakuya made her master the art of well… sereneness. She passed through several ikebanas—these striking flower arrangements made the dark, cold mansion come alive. Somehow, Rukia thought the only thing that she was happy about in her adoption was that she was able to see things—art and flowers that were otherwise unavailable to the poverty-stricken. The bleeding sun's rays passed through the paper doors, illuminating the long hallway. The hot light hit her skin, giving her a soft glow.
It was just too serene. And antithetic to what would happen tonight.
The mansion where she chose to stage his capture was barely occupied by its owner, but the fact that it was a KuchikiMansion, the place was crawling with activity. For obvious reasons of safety, she had to ask the mansion maids who maintained the mansion in perfect order, including her own personal maid, who politely protested, that they leave the compound before sundown and instructed them to stay away until further notice. Rukia may be the Lady Kuchiki, but unlike others and due to her previous social standing as a street-rat, she maintained casual relationships with her maid, her barber, and her seamstress, something that she was truly happy about.
As they bade her goodbye, she remembered her maid blushingly but nervously said, "Please, Rukia-sama, do not let anyone scar your pretty face." Staying true to her modest nature she answered, "Thankyou" and smiled kindly.
To say that she's the envy of Oirans and clan princesses alike because of her beauty was a downright blasphemous claim. In all honesty, some of them are by far, prettier compared to her. It wasas if she's almost nonexistent compared to their beauty, and to top off everything, she wasn't even well-endowed but rather lacked in height and assets. Rukia would instantly fade in the background, as if never there, if placed next to them, but once noticed, something unique about her allure easily outclassed the others and kept all eyes focused on her.
She was in a very different league where physical attributes weren't valued that much.
The difference was just astounding yet something in her violet eyes had some men eyeing her; something made some men chose her fair skin, soft beauty, modest curves, and grace instead of those definitely more attractive ones and the absolutely more beautiful who littered their city. Rukia thought that these men had more interest in her social standing and her family's economic wealth than her, which was partly the truth. But it didn't hurt that she attracted several lords vying for her attention, caused them to pledge undying loyalty to her and in the process, and won her city several sworn allies. It was crucial. She welcomed this as a military move to gain alliance.
Just to gain alliance, that's all.
She walked the long hallways of the Kuchiki shoin-zukuri, their large traditional house for ceremonies concerning feudal lords and military affairs. Kurosaki was a military-man, so it's only befittingfor him to die or be captured in a traditional house.
She reached the end of the hallways, stepped down on the spacious lawn, and immediately the harsh wind swathed her face. The sun had not fully set; yet she knew they were already on the move. Serene but ominous.
In the corner of her eyes, she saw a flicker of brusque red hair. Red hair.
She followed it and saw her former childhood friend standing beside the short keyaki tree, looking at her with something she could not quite discern.
She turned to him, curious. Curious but not surprised. After all these years of stone silence and curt, awkward exchange, why would he suddenly stand here and openly look at her with that… almost forbidding expression?
Her eyes traveled to his, and surprisingly, he held her gaze.
He looked tired. The grey horse beside him was loosely tied to the tree, his chest was still heaving, and beads of sweat framed his face. It looked like he just got here.
Rukia slowly blinked and focused her vision on him. He looked still the same but older. After that incident, she never looked at him properly.
As she looked up, the sky was the same color as his hair.
At a distance, he seemed to be brooding, a direct contradiction to the usual Renji, who she remembered in their younger was fierce, cocky, and smug.
No food but they had a sturdy friendship, No house but they had a warm home. No wealth but they had each other and their friends. And they were happy.
But he abandoned her, end of story.
But to the more important question.
Renji was her brother's lieutenant; it's only natural and duty-bound that he escorted him to closing a treaty with the fur-wearing, red-brown, spiky haired Samurai.
So what is Renji doing here?
"Renji…"
Renji started walking towards her. Rukia's eyes followed him, and for the first time in many years, she got to look at him properly and up close.
Rougher, wilder, and more roguish than ever. He was a straight out war veteran. The clothed muscles seem more menacing and the arms more strapping. He was a man now. A very far vision from the boy she grew up with.
"Ah…"
Rukia wondered for a moment if he was going to say Rukia or Rukia-san or Kuchiki-san or Kuchiki-sama, given their definite distance, both socially and emotionally.
Ishida looked up at the peak of the tallest pagoda inside the walled city. He was standing a good distance away from it yet he could clearly see its stunning architecture and the high walls under the luminescent ray of the moon.
Ishida had to admit: odds were extremely high against them.
If someone decided to perk up an abduction attempt against an entire city that probably knew his plan and was already planning to obliterate him and there were just two of them, then yes, it was suicide.
The bad things piled up against one another: the timing, the place, the number of people, the mission itself.
Actually, Ishida had a brimming suspicion.
Things that led him to one conclusion…
"Rukia…"
Rukia looked up to see a very serious Renji, which was quite rare.
So rare it was quite amusing to see the tough bravado replaced with confusion and obvious worry. Rukia's eyes narrowed in curiosity, obviousworry. And rarely, very rarely Renji had to talk to her.
At least rare in these past sixteen years.
Childhood friends but not, with a gap made from years of separation. Totally awkward laced with hard regret.
She wondered why Renji was so forbidding today.
As for Renji. Earlier this afternoon, he had an immediate summons to where the older Kuchiki was and he was on his way out when he turned back because he heard that there will be an attack on Seireitei tonight. No one is going to oversee it.
And when he asked about Rukia, who he predicted wouldn't take this lying down and would attempt to solve this herself, the soldiers kept quiet and looked at each other. And when he barked for answers, they answered, "We don't know exactly, but Kuchiki-sama is leading the meetings…"
Renji knew the things that were probably crossing her mind, it was, after all, one of the rare obvious moments when he got extremely serious concerning her (that includes that time when someDaimyo-bastard tried to get Rukia into an intimate session and take her back to his castle. Renji was fucking enraged, but Rukia got first dibs on the maniac before Renji could kill him, and she wasn't even aware that he was concerned).
And now, desperate times called for desperate measures, and even if he was about to break dozen orders from Byakuya and probably put more of a gap between his already wide-hole gapping friendship with Rukia, he wouldn't let her into such risk.
"What is this I hear?" he asked softly, referring to the planned attack. His voice indicative of who he was talking to: a Kuchiki princess. He's not Renji, her childhood friend. He's Abarai Renji, thelieutenant trying to do his job and protect her. "Luckily I haven't left yet…"
Renji's voice was so dead-set serious that, for a moment, she had an insane urge to laugh. However, she just looked straight at him, eyes hard, guarded, and penetrating. Gone were the days where they were carefree with each other. Lost. They made this wall.
One look and Renji was already failing at it. Moments ago, he said to himself he would be casual and work nonchalantly. It would be his first true time talking to Rukia alone after all these years.
Renji shifted his gaze and awkwardly tried to smoothen his hair. He tried to avoid her eyes as he knew she would see through him. It was all a front—strong and hard, but inside, Renji was still very much nervous talking to Rukia.
Screw it.
Time to work.
Before Rukia could answer, and with all the courage he could muster, he said with absolute certainty, making sure Rukia heard the conviction and seriousness in his voice.
"Don't do what you're planning, I'll replace you."
To be continued
10.30.14 made changes, super minor issues. i have length issues.