I do not own the rights to Bleach, and I do not profit from my endeavors.
Moth's Wings
Prologue
It began with an explosion.
It began as a spark in the night, and, then, everything was ablaze. Flames, angry and hot, began to devour the palace.
First, it began with the draperies. Then, it spread to the floors and, then, to the library. The flames licked at the large priceless tomes lining the shelves of the bookcases. It did not take long for the books to fall; their purpose transformed into kindling.
The fire was, indeed, transformative. The once quiet and dark estate was set aglow in a raucous maelstrom. As the fire spread, it sent its minion, smoke, ahead to scout the area. Grey tendrils crept into every nook and crevice, infiltrating rooms not yet devastated by the flames.
The hazy cloud began pouring into the princesses' bedroom. The two sisters had been safely tucked into bed only hours before. The elder girl-child, a mere adolescent, had been roused from sleep by the loud commotion outside of the room. Fearfully, she darkened the lights before moving to the window. She slid the window open and took a deep gulp of fresh air.
"What?" Her large doleful eyes searched for clues of what had befallen her family. Dark ominous figures moved in the background. She could not discern who or what they were. Everything was so bright - so terribly bright and so terribly hot. The waves of heat stung the young girl's eyes until her vision was bleary with tears.
"The baby," she gasped, looking back.
She could barely see the crib through the dense fog. The grey plume blanketed the room, making the air heavy and noxious. The young princess's throat and chest stung until she dissolved into a fit of coughs. The burning sensations sent her flying back to the window where she stuck her head out, filled her lungs with air until her cheeks ballooned out, and held her breath. Hastily, she took the plunge back into the room. Through half-lidded and teary eyes, she navigated the floor until she reached her bed. Hastily, she ripped sheets from her futon, bunched the fabric in her arms, and shoved it fast against the door. With a light caress, she felt the door. "Hot," she hissed.
A shriek sounded from the infant princess, alerting the older girl to the fact that time was a scarce commodity. She braced herself before taking a shallow breath. The air was gritty; it felt as if she was inhaling sand, and she began to cough violently.
Fumbling toward the crib, she gripped the smooth wooden post. Her small hands slid down the railing until they reached the swaddled baby. Tenderly, she stroked her sister's back. "I know, I know," she said in a soft sing-song cadence. "It is so hard." She grabbed the warm bundle, and cradled the infant in her wiry arms. "Shush," she exhaled in a long breath. She pulled a thin blanket over the child's nose and mouth.
A hair-raising cry let the elder sister know that the baby was far from pleased.
Gently, she kissed the top of her sister's head, "It is going to be okay." The words rang leaden. It was a false assurance, but, at that moment, it felt like the most adult thing to do.
Instinctively, she padded her way back to the window. Again, she poked out her head and gasped. After the coughing attack subsided, she sucked in a deep breath before withdrawing back into the room. She immediately scrutinized the window. Sizing up the dimensions, her brow furrowed at the prospect of escaping. 'I bet I can squeeze out of it.'
Narrowing her eyes, she found her resolve and placed her hand on the stool of the window. She meditated for a moment, visualizing what she must do next. She would have to be careful with the babe in her arms, but she could do it.
'No, I have to do it, she corrected herself. 'For our sake.'
She was about to hoist herself and the infant up to the ledge when her body was quickly pulled downward with great force. Her eyes snapped open. 'What?'
Her mouth was covered by a large calloused hand, and with a fluid yank her feet left the floor. Struggling proved futile against the strong arms that held her fast. "Let us go!" she screamed into the sweaty palm. In reality, her muffled cry sounded more like, "Lfmm urg oooo!"
"Quiet!" a low gruff voice answered back.
Her eyes widened. She remembered that voice. But, who was it? The young princess tried her mightiest to steal a glimpse of her captor, but her efforts proved futile. His grip proved to be her staying point. But, she knew that voice. She knew the reiatsu enveloping her and her sister. In the panic of the moment, however, her mind could not ascertain her answer. Carefully, she ran through all the names of men who served her father.
'It must be,' she thought in quiet alarm. 'It has to be!'
Before she had the time for her mind to fully carve the name out everything stopped. A dead still stop. Gone were the smoke and fire. The palace, too, was firmly out of sight. Only a column of smoke bending in the wind over the treetops could be seen to affirm that it was not a dream.
The man carefully placed the princesses on the ground. His hands instinctively fumbled with the wet towel he had wrapped around his head and face. Before he had the chance to unveil himself, the young princess announced his identity. "Isshin," she croaked; her throat hoarse and still stinging from inhaling the smoke.
The towel fell to his shoulders, revealing his face. A small smile thinned his lips at the girl's perspicacity. He nodded his head, and dropped to his knee. The two shared a long gaze, pregnant with meaning. While the princess may not have been able to adequately put the feeling into words, she understood his look. Things had changed, and not for the better…
"The child," he murmured, bending down to relieve the princess of the bundle.
Hesitantly, she acquiesced. "Is she alright?"
He pulled the blanket from the child's face. The baby had not made a sound since their departure, and he was worried that something had gone terribly awry. Glancing down upon the delicate soot-stained face, he could see that the female child was alert and breathing.
"She is strong," he replied, gazing back up at the older princess. They were both so young, he mused to himself. Too young. He placed a hand against the princess's shoulder. "You are going to have to trust me," he said.
She tried to appear supplicant, but her eyes belied her silent mortification. "Where is my father?" her small voice asked.
He stared deeply into her eyes. While it pained him to speak the truth, he knew it had to be done. He, however, did not have to return her gaze as he delivered the news. "He has left."
Her large blue eyes widened to the size of half dollars at the revelation. Reflexively, her hand shot up to her mouth in a vain attempt to muffle the sound of her cry. Shaking and exhausted, the young princess dropped to her knees, sobbing.
Isshin allowed her a moment to mourn, but he would be amiss if he let her dissolve into a crippling depression at that very moment. "Princess, we must go."
Trembling, she wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. She glanced up at the captain imploringly. She appeared so small and innocent.
A pang of guilt pelted Isshin's heart as his gaze trailed from one girl to the other. A look of determination creased his face as he stared into the middle distance. He was uncertain how this would end, but he was sure he would give the two cherub-cheeked princesses a new beginning. It wouldn't be pretty; that much he knew. But, the girls had enough reiatsu to make it to the Academy. It was just getting from point A to point B.
He grimaced at the thought. The nets of the enemy, veiled and seemingly omnipotent, were closing in on them. He did not have much time. They did not have much time.
It was too dangerous…
With knitted brow and a sympathetic look, he appeared pensive, and he was. His brain was working a mile a minute to formulate a plan. It was a difficult undertaking for he only had a piece of the information necessary. There were missing parts - important fragments - that he was quite sure he needed. Isshin shook his head. His current information would have to suffice even if was incomplete.
Moments carried the weight of hours in their predicament; it was time for him to bite the bullet and take action. The scheme he had settled on wasn't perfect, he admitted silently to himself, but it would have to do. "We are leaving this place," he said softly, his voice losing its edge.
The young girl stared vacantly at him. Everything was gone. Her whole world had been ripped from her. She felt desolate. She did not know what she was doing or where she was going. All she knew was that her future now hinged on the purity of this one man's intentions.
She was in shock, he observed. He forced a smile and placed his hand on the top of her dark head. "We are going to play a game."
Her brow furrowed at the word, "game."
"You and your sister are going to be incognito for a while."
"In-cog-nito?" she rasped out. Her confusion was clear.
"Yep," he chirped. "You and your sister are going to pretend to be other people." He could see the whites of her eyes the moment the words left his mouth. His attempt at spinning the situation was failing… miserably.
The young princess's mouth gaped, and her complexion blanched. Something was terribly wrong. Terribly, terribly, wrong, she thought to herself.
"We are going to have to pick out names for you and your sister," he stated evenly.
She stared at him like a whipped dog stares at an angry master.
"What name would you like?"
She remained silent. Fear had snapped every fiber of her body into rigid place, molding her body into a stiff and ramrod straight posture. She stood shackled by horror, staring unblinkingly into his weathered face. Her tongue had grown two sizes too thick in her mouth, and her throat was too parched for her to make a sound. Instead, she just trembled like a leaf in a rainstorm.
A genuine half-smile tugged at a corner of his mouth, and he closed his eyes. After a moment of silent meditation, he tried another approach. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small drinking flask. A few flicks of his wrist were all it took to unscrew the top, and, before the young princess could guess his next action, he poured some of the liquid over her head. "I anoint you Hisana," he said ceremoniously. "And you," he murmured gazing down into the babe's face, "will be Rukia." Gently, he drizzled some of the water over the child's head, cleansing the soot from her chubby cheeks.
In that cold tenebrous forest, the princesses were stripped of their noble rank and lineage. Every comfort they had ever known had disintegrated to ash. The remnants of what once was scattered like dust on an impetuous wind.
They had been born anew.