The light cast strangely down Seireitei, the sun setting behind the ivory towers. Red tinged shadows crept toward the base of the city, breeding with the darkness in the chasms between the buildings.
Jushiro Ukitake, from atop the Eleventh Division Headquarters, watched the strange interplay of light and dark, inarticulately musing at the seeming contradiction, and the ominous dark that spread throughout Soul Society, like the rot encroaching on his lungs.
The sun has set on the world of order, he thought.
Was there ever such a place?
Without order, where will the Shinigami stand? In superstition, merely a tale of men? Were we ever anything but? How were we born, we children of death, living in a mocking world?
Far away, kneeling on his veranda, Kuchiki Byakuga slowly raised his head, staring out at the light that filtered through the trees of his grounds. They cast splotches of red across the pool in front of him, moving with the surface of the water.
And, separately, both remembered when the one called the other Sensei...
"Good!" Ukitake called from his seat, along the edge of the training ground. "Now focus your reitsu, as if you're going to fire a kido, and channel it into your Zanpakuto!"
Gritting his teeth, Byakuga edged his new sword into a stance that seemed right, and poured his pale crimson fire across the blade. Shifting this way and that, as if whipped by an unseen wind, the spiritual energy seemed to briefly lessen, then expand.
"Can you see the shadow of my leaves?" a voice asked, in tones of winter.
Byakuga jerked upright, his reitsu sputtering out. A sheen of sweat covered his body, and he absent mindedly swiped at it with his towel, his scowl finding its lines.
Ukitake clapped politely, as much to get Byakuga's attention as to congratulate. "Good! You definitely started to immerse yourself, you just need to accept the energy, not resist it."
"I kno-- I mean, yes, Sensei, I am aware of the protocol," Byakuga ground out, unused to addressing a man of lower station, even if he was a captain, with any sort of respect. The calm, white haired man seemed militantly unaware of his inferior lineage, to the point of treating members of House Kuchiki as (he shuddered) equals.
Ukitake nodded pleasantly. "It's been a long day. How about we stop here?" Standing, he collected his Zanpakuto from where it leaned against the veranda, and walked towards Byakuga.
The young noble gritted his teeth, then blurted out "Sensei! May I have a demonstration of your shikai?"
Ukitake blinked. "Why?"
"Sensei, you are acknowledged as a master of zanjitsu by all of Soul Society. I wish to see how you invoke shikai."
Ukitake considered. While he didn't like showing off or being in any way excessive, it could be good for his student to set an example. "Stand back then," he said gently.
Byakuga stifled a gasp, as his sensei's colossal reitsu, feeling as always, deceptively gentle, blossomed into being. "Let every lightening be my blade, let every wave be my shield," Ukitake murmured, pausing for a moment to let Byakuga register what he was doing, then split his sword in half, where it smoothly took its pronged form.
It seemed so natural when Sensei did it, Byakuga reflected sourly. One of the oldest and most respected captains, Ukitake was a master, and had long since become an establishment of the Gotei 13. His problem was converting his already prodigious reitsu into a form his sword could use. Only recently had his sword manifested, with its light, skeletal guard and deep purple wrapped hilt. It seemed the most natural thing in the world, now that he had it. But trying to invoke shikai just made his head ache, as he felt like he was being pulled a thousand different directions at once.
Not at all like the focused precision of Sensei.
That night, Byakuga twisted and turned in his futon, the voice he'd heard echoing in his head. "Can you see the shadow of my leaves?" it whispered to him. "Can you count the number of my petals?" The voice was female, cool and aloof, the language the most formal Byakuga had heard outside a formal noble's ceremony.
"Can you see the shadow of my leaves?"
The next day, Ukitake was taking care of business in Seireitei, but he sent word to Byakuga to focus his reitsu into a distinct pattern, visualizing his progress, then meditate with his Zanpakuto. Byakuga experimented with forming his reitsu into lotus patterns, the heraldry of House Kuchiki, and an elegant wing like shape. He sat down on the veranda, his sword in his lap, and focused his thoughts, trying to pierce the veil that separated him from his blade.
He faltered in concentration, allowing his mind to drift, but before he could focus himself again, he felt a cold breeze. Opening his eyes to a slit, he saw snow on the ground in front of him. No...not snow. It was cold, but these were distinct shapes, familiar ones at that.
Cherry blossoms.
They lay in drifts, showing their beautiful fragments around in a flurry to rival even the strongest snow storm. The trees, planted in a stately avenue, were massive, long since entrenched, and perfected trimmed. Above, the sky was black, with no stars, but cherry blossoms flitted down even from above the trees, to give a haunting, ghostly impression that the stars were falling steadily.
"Well, boy? Can you count the blossoms?" a cold voice asked. Byakuga turned, then inhaled sharply. In front of him was a woman, a geisha, beautiful porcelain skin fitting the ghostly surroundings, he exquisite robe hanging loose, her ebony hair adrift on unseen current. She seemed to float more than walk, drifting towards him, her large eyes lidded.
"Who are you?" Byakuga whispered, so caught in the moment that he lost his innate arrogance.
"I am ------------," she whispered, now very close. The name, while Byakuga heard it, seemed to slip through his ears, out of reach for now. She looked at him, understanding intimately his situation, then drifted away, her kimono barely brushing the ground. "Can you see the shadow of my leaves, boy?" she demanded, whipping one sleeved arm around. "Can you hear the wind? No? That is because my petals drift on the slightest current, move on winds unheard and unfelt.
"I drift endlessly, as do you. Drift on winds unseen..."
Byakuga blinked, as the scenery changed dramatically. He was back on the veranda, gasping for breath, seeing spots in front of his eyes at the sudden brightness. The dark, unlit world where you could nonetheless see everything, the beautiful lady, with her hair adrift...
Byakuga stood, steady again, drew his sword with flawless mai, then focused his reitsu.
"Wrong," her voice murmured in his ear, and without looking, he knew she was with him. "Do not force; that is inelegant. Do not burst veins concentrating, drift with the flow of blood. There is no wind we cannot find, there is no place we cannot go. Meddle in our ways at your peril, for we are--"
"Scatter," Byakuga said, his voice deadpan, "Senbonzakura."
And his sword was once more adrift.