They were loyal, they were determined, they were stubborn. So different, so alike. Enemies, Friends, Lovers, then … Heroes? [HaschKibe; OOC; AU; CrackPairing, Serious Plot.]

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Here's the deal. All the author's notes are going here, so you don't have to deal with them anymore during the story.

This is crack pairing, I know. Even so, it doesn't have to be entirely unbelievable. After all, the mark of a good writer is to make something unbelievable believable, right? So, that's why I'm taking a chance at this fiction.

Please note, I am not fond of pure romance and I have never written it (let alone yaoi) and please note that there will not be extreme doses of romance. Perhaps a few kisses will be written (and not described in detail) and lemons and limes are out of the question, but sex may be alluded to, depending on if the story goes where I intend or not. With that said, HaschKibe will be the only pairing aside from canon pairings.

MODIFIED: I will be using most aspects of canon though not the exact plot. BUT, there will STILL be some major deviations! I will warn you of that now!

Ccertain things from canon will be cut, especially those that happen after this is published (cough, chapter 587), but I feel that certain liberties are needed to create a good fanfiction—and heck, that's the point of fanfiction, isn't it?

On the topic of cursing, I am not a curser, and neither are Haschwalth or Sasakibe, so don't expect to see it too much, though no promises.

Haschwalth is German. German may show up. I've taken three years of it, but if I make mistakes (that aren't intentional, that is) feel free to correct me in a kind way. I won't improve if you don't. Heck, if I make errors in English, feel free to correct that too.

There may be minor OCs. No Mary Sues, I swear. Nothing more than a messenger or a waiter or the like, probably unnamed.

There will be violence, possibly much of it.

This story will start slow. Do not expect it to be exciting from the beginning.

Sporadic updates.

The characters, especially Haschwalth and Sasakibe, will be OOC—but as mentioned above, I want to make it believable. They're both relatively minor characters, and liberties will be taken. However, I will not make anything occur that I cannot personally see occurring in the right conditions, and I do my best to explain just why I feel this way. In other words, we may view the characters and their behaviors differently. I see this as plausible, you may not. This chapter, however, Sasakibe is drunk, meaning more OOC than he will be the rest of the story.

This starts during the time skip.

Don't hesitate to ask any questions. Remember, no more author's notes, so nothing will get answered if you don't ask me.

Now, without interruption, I present:

Letting out a soft sigh, Haschwalth watches as the heated breath emitted from his mouth flutters towards the sky before curling apart and dispersing before his eyes. He stands invisibly as families wonder around, some heading to temples or shines, some heading to other family members, some chasing children who run around wildly with sparklers.

All this causes for Haschwalth is the slight stab of loneliness close to his heart. He sharply turns his head to the side, trying not to remember the fire that had taken his home, his family, his friends, his village. Perhaps coming here was a bad idea after all. His attention snaps to a loud sound above him, watching quietly as the burst of red and orange weaves its way back to the ground. There are sounds of the other people 'ah'ing and 'oh'ing and the occasional child crying out in fright of the loud sound. The slight smell of ashy wood drifts into the area. Seeing as the smell further reminded him of the loss of his previous life, Haschwalth shakes his head before turning to walk away.

Once away from the commotion of the gathering families, Haschwalth finds it easier to breath, think, and all around gather his bearings. He pauses, sensing something odd. A single Soul Reaper is perching on a nearby hill. While this situation could be described as a normal situation on most occasions, it definitely crossed into abnormal territory on Ōmisoka. Haschwalth's understanding of Soul Reaper traditions was shaky at best, but he understood that they liked getting together and celebrating, even if many of Japan's traditions were made moot by death. So then, why was this random Soul Reaper just sitting in this random location? Yes, the Soul Reapers could not withdraw completely, even on a holiday, but a Soul Reaper on duty should not just sit there…regardless of how adept his or her spiritual senses are. Haschwalth tries to rationalize the strange occurrence, but can find no answer. If the Soul Reaper was on duty, why was he just sitting there? If the Soul Reaper was celebrating, why was he alone? The facts of the situation just fail to add up. Perhaps it was a trap or a sting mission of some sort, attempting to attract an enemy and ambush them…which was alarming, but not of major concern. Was it not Haschwalth's duty to investigate all matters Soul Reaper, and report them to his majesty? (Haschwalth would not admit he was curious.)

With this ultimatum in mind, Haschwalth begins to approach the strange Soul Reaper, into a forest, all senses on high alert. If there are any others waiting to begin an ambush, they would never hide from a Quincy. His spiritual sweep of the area returns completely clean—save for that single Soul Reaper—a phenomenon that successfully debunks a few of his theories.

"Don't be shy…Come on out…~"

And it seems that single Soul Reaper discovered Haschwalth's presence—not that he was trying to hide it. Haschwalth steps into the clearing, cautious and on guard. What he found was mildly surprising, the single Soul Reaper was sitting on a blanket, near the top of a hill, not facing Haschwalth. Beside him, there appeared to be a saké bottle. Great, the Soul Reaper was probably drunk.

"Come on~ Almost there~" He glances over his shoulder, waving his arm in some pattern that was probably meant to wave Haschwalth over before letting it fall ungracefully to his side. He then takes a sip of the liquid he was drinking, which Haschwalth caught the whiff of: definitely alcohol.

With an exhale, Haschwalth approaches slowly. He really didn't particularly wish to communicate with a Soul Reaper, let alone a drunken one, but with the nature of saké, it would be a perfect opportunity to pry some information about the enemy's forces. Or, if things went sour, Haschwalth was perfectly capable of defending himself.

"Sit with me?" The man tilts his head backwards to look at Haschwalth's face, wide eyes glimmering with the effect of intoxication.

Haschwalth purses his lips, an act that seems to go unnoticed by the Soul Reaper. It was against his nature to even speak to the Soul Reaper, so there was no way that he was going to follow his orders, but, at the same time, if he wanted to get secrets from him, turning down the request wouldn't do either. He settled for making a deal, "Not unless you discard that foul substance." The lack of it would at least make the proceedings bearable. And, should he become violent, it would be reason enough to cut him down where he sat and continue life.

The Soul Reaper blinks, not taking his gaze off Haschwalth, before slowly turning to the flask and cup he holds in his hand. Then, he unexpectedly tosses it over the hill's edge, before returning his gaze to Haschwalth with an expectant look.

Honestly, Haschwalth would have preferred the second of the possibilities. While gathering information when the opportunity expressed itself was one of his duties to his people, it was not a task he enjoyed or wished to undertake at the current time. He wanted…peace. Relaxation. Unfortunately, with soul reapers prowling the human world and the nature of his rambunctious allies, peace and relaxation was not something Haschwalth found often. I suppose some sacrifices have to be made in order to please His Majesty… Narrowing his eyes, he walks over and sits gracefully on the blanket, making sure that not even his robe touches the Soul Reaper. The Soul Reaper looks pleased—doesn't even seem to notice that Haschwalth isn't a fellow Soul Reaper—and Haschwalth noted that he doesn't particularly smell like saké, which led him to three possibilities: 1, the Soul Reaper is an extreme lightweight, didn't drink that much and is authentically drunk; 2, the Soul Reaper is just extremely friendly and/or fails to see Haschwalth as an enemy; or 3, the Sou—

"You have pretty eyes." The sudden comment bumps Haschwalth out of his musing, and he finds the Soul Reaper only a few inches away, staring into his eyes. Haschwalth instantly leans backwards; glare forming instantly as he wonders why he let his guard down so easily. It was a foolish move, regardless of the Soul Reaper's state. He stares the drunken soul down until he backs off, before returning to his musing albeit keeping a closer eye on the Soul Reaper.

Where did he leave off? Ah, yes, the third option, the Soul Reaper is faking his intoxication to achieve some goal of his own.

"Why aren't you with your family?" The Soul Reaper suddenly asks, seemingly intent on conversing whether Haschwalth wants it or not.

Unfortunately for the Soul Reaper, that is a highly sensitive topic to Haschwalth, one that is almost guaranteed to put him in a bad mood. He decided to play it defensive, and stoically responded, "Why aren't you?"

"I don't have family."

To be honest, Haschwalth really wasn't expecting the instant and blunt response, and expecting even less for the Soul Reaper's answer to the question to match his own. Sure, the Soul Reapers died facing hollows, but at least they didn't have another species attacking them in their homes. Thus, with a bitter and somewhat depressed tone, he responds, "Then you have my answer to the question as well." The vague and roundabout answer was intentional, meant to hopefully confuse the Soul Reaper and give him no answers after all. It doesn't work.

"Then let's be family just for tonight."

This Soul Reaper was just full of surprises, wasn't he? Some thread in Haschwalth's heart agreed that it was a wonderful idea, but his logical self quickly buried it beneath a wave of Soul Reaper hatred. After all, that's how he was raised and trained by His Majesty. If he had decided to throw that away, not only would his pride suffer, but Yhwach would be severely disappointed. Was that really something—

Haschwalth's eyes widen as he has to grab ahold of the Soul Reaper to keep from falling over, as he randomly decided to toss himself over whether Haschwalth approved or not, which seems to be a reoccurring theme here, he grimaced. Unfortunately, steadying himself may not have been the best course of action, since it allowed the Soul Reaper to get a firm grip on him.

During his moment in which he is stunned, he takes a deep breath and caught the scent of fresh rain. This scent, mixed with the feel of the Soul Reaper's zest of a sparky spiritual pressure suspended Haschwalth into a vision of a vast electrical storm, deadly but controlled, and oddly peaceful. The vision disappears barely a second later, but Haschwalth thinks he can still hear the soft patter of rain…

Haschwalth comes to when he hears the toll of a bell in the distance: the festival that marked the New Year. When did I…?

"New Year already…?" The Soul Reaper mumbles, voice muffled by Haschwalth's cloak. Haschwalth wishes this was a sign of the Soul Reaper finally deciding to get off him, but he has no such luck. Instead, he just moves to a more comfortable position—for both of them, a part of Haschwalth noticed—and remains hugging him. "What is your name?"

Harmless information. Haschwalth decides. "Haschwalth." Nothing more, nothing less.

"Hasss…" The Soul Reaper's intoxication is made apparent by his inability to pronounce the rough Germanic sound that Haschwalth's name required. "…ald." He finishes, and Haschwalth doesn't feel like arguing about how his name is pronounced.

At the same time, Haschwalth really doesn't want to listen to him attempt to say it repeatedly, so he cut him off by returning the question. "And yours?"

"Tadaoki." The Soul Reaper, the First Division's Lieutenant, memory told him, Sasakibe Tadaoki, more commonly known as Sasakibe Chōjirō, a nickname acquired sometime after the original war on Soul Reapers. It makes sense, Haschwalth acknowledges, the Soul Reaper matches the archived description and he was considered non-confrontational. In fact, the only reason Haschwalth failed to come to the conclusion was because of his abnormal behavior: he was normally a stoic man at the side of Yamamoto. It was a fact that changed so many variables—he would know much about the Soul Reapers but just as sure to never surrender any of that information, he was a threat that must be eliminated but not before his majesty said so, and he was a target with little known information but being so contradicting to what Haschwalth expected of Soul Reapers.

Utterly ridiculous. So ridiculous, in fact, that Haschwalth didn't even feel like resisting. He is…exhausted. With his job as Grandmaster of the Stern Ritter, his general duties as a Quincy, failing to find tranquility in the human world and getting snuggle-attacked (or whatever you wished to call it…), he just didn't feel like doing anything at the moment. Everyone needed rest occasionally, a fact that even his majesty acknowledged, and sometimes Haschwalth felt as though he did not rest enough. It was a thought that would not be given weight any other time, but the holidays, especially family related ones, had a habit of depressing him enough to contemplate such thoughts.

And sometimes…such thoughts were so…draining…

When Haschwalth wakes, the sun is up. In fact, the sun is quite possibly what woke him up in the first place. He is leaning awkwardly to the side, body and legs creating an awkward bent L, head resting on the ground, grass tickling his face, Soul Reaper half draped over him (technically incorrect, for when Haschwalth came to the realization he was promptly shoved off), and Haschwalth feels all around stiff yet strangely well rested.

Haschwalth pushed himself up, staring distastefully at the grass he had fallen on in his sleep. There better not be a stain on his cape…

"Oh dear. That was from a rather expensive set."

"It was your own ill-informed decision to toss it over."

"So I've noticed… My actions as a drunk tend to be…Ahem…rather emotionally charged, shall we say."

You don't say is Haschwalth's only retaliation, and a rather undignified one at that, one left unsaid.

"What brings you to the human world this fine New Year?"

So, even in correct state of mind this Soul Reaper chooses to speak over fight…perhaps the Daten needed to be modified to state 'non-confrontational to a stupid degree.' "It is my choice to go where I please as I choose." The statement was bordering on the territory of a lie, as Haschwalth generally needed to get Yhwach's permission before leaving, but saying anything else would give the Soul Reaper a clue to the Quincy's return, a fact that could not be slipped as some of their plan bordered on surprise.

"…Of course. I did not mean to imply otherwise."

What are you getting at, Soul Reaper? Haschwalth's expression does not change. It did not quite matter, though, for the Soul Reaper hadn't turned from looking over the hill, peering over at his shattered possessions. Why do you not strike? Haschwalth is not foolish—no, he is far from it. He knew that right now he was in a battle of wits and that neither of those questions would be answered.

Retrieving information was rarely straightforward. It was a twisting path of confusion, sabotage, and unreliability. No, one should never listen to the information that was said, but rather that which wasn't said. After all, it was much easier to give a flat lie than it was to imply one. Therefore, when attempting to glean information, the most useless questions could be the most effective to the trained listener. At the same time, the most effective lie was one based in truth—it was the very same idea. Even so, delving directly into such questions is more likely to cause suspicion than anything… There is no reason for the two of them to be communicating, let alone partaking in insignificant conversations, regardless of how the Soul Reaper acts.

There are so many possibilities.

Not a shred of his mental monologue appears on his face, the contemplation lasting less than a second in his strategically inclined mind. Possibility after possibility considered, discarded, before he came to a decision.

"Why are you here?" Yes, it is the very same question that Haschwalth was just asked. Not only does it give the façade of politeness, but it would also give an insight to the Soul Reaper's characteristics. It was a foregone conclusion that the answer would not be the truth, but the style of the lie and the contents within could be just as useful…with the added bonus of obscuring Haschwalth's true intent while not being out of character for a Quincy to say. Haschwalth does not care for the Soul Reaper's personal life, but it appears that he does. A false sense of camaraderie…

"The city is quite noisy at this time of year. I would almost swear that the activities of certain individuals resound resolutely across and through the buildings."

I know what you speak of, Soul Reaper. Does he honestly think that Haschwalth would not see through the poorly disguised reference to the Seireitei? The certain individuals in question are almost guaranteed to be the 11th Division. Perhaps the Soul Reaper thinks little of Haschwalth—unlikely considering who he is, aged enough to have lived through the original war, but Soul Reapers are known to be arrogant. Haschwalth could use that to his advantage.

"I'm sorry, I don't quite remember your name." Finally, the Soul Reaper stands and turns to face Haschwalth. "I remember that we exchanged names, though, and if I recall correctly, it was exotic. Western."

Again. "Haschwalth." It is doubtful that anyone or any record in Soul Society stores his name. Even Yamamoto probably didn't take care to remember the dutiful servant of his enemy. In other news, Haschwalth wasn't sure what to make of the Soul Reaper's description of his name.

"Western indeed," he says, mostly to himself before bending down to pick up the blanket, standing up and pulling it along to straighten it, before pulling the edges together to fold it. "Germanic, I assume?" His gaze flickers from his blanket to Haschwalth for the briefest second before returning and continuing to fold the blanket.

"Do I need to answer that?" Haschwalth's reply is instant but cool, calm, and collected. The Quincy were German. It would make sense that his name would be German as well, a fact that Haschwalth is sure the Soul Reaper is alluding to. However, Haschwalth's name was given by His Majesty, most likely with no certain culture in mind save the Quincy's own, though the 'sch' sound was common in German language and it would be a understandable, if amateurish, mistake.

"I suppose not."

For the moment, Haschwalth just watches the Soul Reaper, gathering information visually rather than orally. The Soul Reaper's movements are carefree, void of even the telltale signs of hiding stress or preparing a sneak attack. Haschwalth doubts he had the rigorous training to be able to conceal his internal emotions and feelings (especially not from one so talented as Haschwalth) and concludes he honestly feels unthreatened and relaxed.

It is both insulting and exploitable.

Had any other Quincy been in Haschwalth's place, it was doubtless that the Soul Reaper would be dead or locked in a battle of life, but Haschwalth was not so rash or quick to anger (because the Quincy were a threat and that Soul Reaper should not be so comfortable standing so (too) close and it is an insult to the Quincy's pride for it to be that way!) and saw the opportunity that was there.

This is Yamamoto's lieutenant, bound to know just about everything that wasn't Yamamoto's most private thoughts, and is making the mistake of letting his guard down to the enemy. And, Haschwalth is loath to admit, he wasn't horrible to talk to…so long as he remained sober. Haschwalth can put up with a lot of happenings (a drunken Soul Reaper snuggle hug was not-so-proudly added to that list yesterday) but if it occurred a second time, all bets were off.

It is a near-perfect situation, Haschwalth notes, for me. It is a reconnaissance mission that may yield unexpected boosts to Quincy kind, a target that is bearable, more so than his own comrades at times, with a low chance of negative consequences and a high chance of success of some kind…if only luring the Soul Reaper into a vulnerable state to kill him with the least possible problems. He needs only to figure out how to proceed.

"I'm going to have to leave, unfortunately," the Soul Reaper states, blanked folded neatly and tucked beneath his arm.

Haschwalth would have to act quickly.

"Why don't we meet again next week?" At this point, the Soul Reaper is already turned around, drawing his blade to make his exit.

…Or, perhaps if Haschwalth stays silent long enough, the Soul Reaper will take care of the details himself. "Very well."

The Soul Reaper pauses, lowering his sword and looking curiously over his shoulder at Haschwalth.

"Consider it your final wish." It is a cryptic explanation, indeed, a reference to the upcoming genocide of the Soul Reapers, a reference that failed to be understood by the target.

"A genie, are you? I don't remember the first two."

Sitting with you and being your hugging post, Haschwalth supplies mentally with a grimace, though neither of them makes it to his face.

"Right here, then? Next Wednesday?" At Haschwalth's slight inclination of his head, the Soul Reaper turned to his Senkaimon, and disappeared behind its wooden panels.

Perhaps it was an oversight to agree so quickly, but Haschwalth has the week to contemplate his options and didn't even have to show up if he chose not to, his agreement nothing more than another lie to get the information he desired. By agreeing, he at least left a chance to continue his self-assigned mission, left a chance to replicate an occurrence which may never come around again.

All of your kind are foolish, Soul Reaper. You are not excluded from that.

Haschwalth turns. He would return to Silbern and consider his options.

Do you even realize you are in a battle? All the more reason you cannot defeat me.

The shadows of His Majesty take him.

And to think, you may help trigger the downfall of your species…all because of your false invitations.