I do not own Buffy The Vampire Slayer or Bleach. Whedon and Kubo-sensei did a much better job than I ever could.
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When Zaraki Kenpachi started to spend days on end in the human world without his young fukutaichou nobody in Seireitei knew what to think. When he came home with a black eye and a smile to rival Ichimaru Gin's, they knew something was wrong. When a picture of a blonde woman staking a smoldering corpse showed up on his seldom-used desk, they became worried.
It was Kusajishi Yachiru—Kenpachi's fukutaichou—who finally put a name to the curious affliction that seemed to be plaguing her taichou for all of Seireitei. She did it after the notorious gossip queen and member of the Shinigami Women's Association—Matsumoto Rangiku—tried to wheedle the information out subtly at first then finally with a blunt question.
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Rangiku was impatient at the best of times. Spending an hour trying to get information out of a hyperactive child with zero attention span was not the best of times.
To say the least.
Finally, she snapped. "Kusajishi-fukutaichou, who is the woman in the picture that Zaraki-taichou has?" Rangiku was proud of herself for not trying to choke the little brat, and for not screaming the question. She was improving.
Yachiru just stared for a moment. "Oh! Is that it!?" the little girl smiled sweetly around her lollipop. "You should've said, booby-chan! That's Ken-chan's girlfriend. She hits hard," she explained as though it was common sense. "They like each other! She can make Ken-chan bleed when they fight, it's really funny after 'cause Ken-chan gets all happy and Pointy-chan gets all worried, and then Ken-chan tells her that she can't do anything bad to him which just makes Pointy-chan get all mad again…"
By the time Yachiru stopped talking, Rangiku was wishing that she hadn't even asked. Who knew that someone could talk about two people for that long without actually giving away their names? At least she knew what was going on over in the 11th division.
It was time to spread the word.
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A blonde woman sat at a desk writing in her diary occasionally pausing to tap the pen against her lips. The woman hadn't kept a diary in years, but recently she felt like she wanted to remember events in her life again.
Her lover-slash-sparring partner had just left—his work in Japan kept him away for long periods of time—but she still had the warm glow of a good workout with someone who could push her to her limits. She hadn't had someone who did that for her for a long time.
But he wasn't just a good sparring partner—if that was all that she had wanted, then Satsu would have been more than enough for her. No, somehow, in all the violence and craziness that he displayed, he also made her feel special, normal, strong, and weak all at the same time. His laugh was amazing, and it almost always appeared after she hurt him during one of their spars.
In the right setting—like the one where'd they'd met—that laugh could send chills down someone's spine and maybe even break a normal person's will to fight. But when they were just 'playing,' as he called it, that laugh felt more like a whole-hearted expression of emotions. Emotions that she sometimes couldn't let out herself.
It didn't even matter to her that he wasn't as handsome as any of her other lovers. There was something so primal about him that she couldn't help being attracted. It was something that had always attracted her, just like with the two most important relationships she'd had. That threat of violence, the feel—whether real or not—of fangs at her throat; it was exciting, shameful, and something that this newest lover liked very much.
Violent, though he was, there was a soft side to him as well. He carried pictures of his daughter with him, he did his own hair and was picky about it, he was lousy with directions, and he wanted everyone to have fun before work.
His idea of fun was just fighting. She could live with that.
She looked down at the diary—which she'd been scribbling in even as she was lost in thought—and her dreamy smile slowly faded as she read over what was written there.
Hey there Spike. I haven't talked to you for…for a long time. Angel either.
I suppose you already knew that though, huh? And if you've read this before, then I guess you know all about my dreams.
I don't know whether you'd kill me or kiss me. I know you two never really liked each other. But it looks like you two have the same tastes so maybe…No, what am I saying.
Maybe it's because I haven't talked to either of you lately, but you both have kind of become one for me. Two of the most important men in my life on the Hellmouth and I repay you both by…well…you know.
I just bet you're wondering why I'm writing. You never saw me write in a diary, Spike, and I don't think Angel did either. Well, if you talked to Angel, he could tell you about my cookie analogy. I think…I think I'm fully baked.
There's this guy. I think you'd like him, Spike. You've got the same kind of interests. Mostly bloodshed and violence.
But I'm okay with that. He's okay with it too. It's weird actually, we met at these strongman type of games. I was dusting this demon, right? Then this huge mountain of muscle shoves me out the way and takes the demon out with a couple of punches; laughing like a maniac the whole time.
Then I mistook him for a demon. Yeah, yeah, I can hear your snort now. It was dark, okay? And he's not exactly pretty.
So I attacked, and he just grinned at me and we fought until I managed to scratch him a bit. Then he just sat back and laughed, said, "I gotta go, girl, but I'll be back. You're interesting. I want to fight you again." And he did. Come back. Time and time again.
It was only when I gave him a black eye that something changed. He swooped me up into his arms and twirled me around for some reason. I never got an answer as to why he did that.
Anyway, I've finally accepted that part of me that will always want to fight. But I'm tired of fighting for my life when I'm not living. I want a nice home that's not invaded by demons every month or so, a person who I love and who loves me—all of me—and maybe taking on a few new Slayers and teaching them to fight. I want someone who will be there for me when I'm having a nightmare and when I'm not.
I don't know if he's the one who will be able to give me all of that, but we're willing to work for it.
Oh, before I go, I should tell you his name. It may sound a bit weird, but he is Kenpachi Zaraki from Japan.
Love, Buffy.
P.S.: The next mission I go on is going to be my last, Spike, Angel, everyone. I've already talked to the Scoobies, and they think that if this is what I want, they will support me. I'm giving generalship—or whatever—over to Faith. She'll be good at it. And I'll always be just a phone call away.
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For every vampire Buffy staked, or demon that she killed two more appeared out of nowhere and she was beginning to get tired.
She never had gotten tired before on such a small mission before—even though this had turned out to be not so small—it just showed Buffy another reason to retire. She was the oldest Slayer in history, and it was starting to show. The life of a Slayer had worn her down over the years.
And that was why Buffy didn't see the vampire that snuck up behind her. Neither did anyone else, as the other Slayers had always thought ever since they were activated that no matter what, Buffy would somehow come out all right.
This time they were wrong.
Buffy felt the cold steel of a knife slid through her throat and out one side. She even felt her jugular burst open and she had mere moments to think, 'Oh, not again,' before she died.
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Being a ghost was odd for the former Slayer, especially the broken chain that she was playing with as she watched all her friends mourn at her funeral. Dawn was sobbing into Xander's chest while Xander himself tried not to cry. Kennedy was busy supporting most of Willow's weight because the witch didn't look as though she could stand. Giles was doing the internment ritual, his voice catching every other word. Her team of Slayers—plus Satsu, who's presence was a nice surprise—looked guilty and inconsolable. Not to mention that, to her shock, she could see Angel and Spike hiding out in a blacked out van in sight of the grave.
It was an hour though, before Kenpachi showed up, and he didn't look as he usually did. Normally he looked happy—scary, but happy. Now his face was set in a deep frown, and for some odd reason he kept looking around as though paranoid.
Buffy floated closer to him, wanting to let him know that she was going to be all right. That she'd done this before, and that she was kind of glad that this time would last. Even though Buffy had wanted to try to have a life with him, she didn't regret dying.
Somehow, Buffy knew that she was meant to die young and in battle. She twirled the chain around a bit and noticed absently that it had been welded together before.
Kenpachi looked over and their eyes locked. Buffy stared as he slowly grinned toothily, scratched his scar, then schooled his face back into the frown. After that he seemed much more at ease, even going so far as to put a hand on Xander's shoulder as a silent offer of comfort. Buffy saw Xander open his mouth to speak and floated closer to hear.
"I'm sorry. This was going to be the last case," Buffy remembered that she had told Kenpachi that she worked as a detective with her friends. She had been planning to tell him about her life after she resigned, "before she was going to move. You must be devastated." Kenpachi shrugged.
"I'm sad, yes. She was beautiful and strong and I was looking forward to seeing her more often. But I think I'll see her again. Just might be a few years before I do. I can wait." He lit an incense stick with a lighter and placed it beside the marker. "She's worth it, don't you think?"
Xander hugged Dawn closer to him, both of them drawing comfort from the act. "Yeah, yeah I do. I knew there was a reason I liked you better."
After that short conversation, most of the Scooby Gang and all the Slayers left. Kenpachi stayed until dark, however, occasionally sending a grin over to ghost Buffy like he knew where she was and keeping an incense stick lit beside the gravestone. Kenpachi looked as though he was just about to leave when Spike and Angel emerged from their hiding place—both looking worse for wear. Kenpachi just stared at them until Spike stuck out his hand.
"The name's Spike." They shook and Spike turned to the freshly dug grave looking as heartbroken as he did the second time Buffy had died. She knew it was serious, he didn't even try to remark on Kenpachi's hair or looks.
Angel, was a different story. He glared at an indifferent Kenpachi before also shaking. Buffy winced when she noticed that Angel was squeezing harder than necessary. She should have known Xander wouldn't have warned them about doing those little contests of strength with Kenpachi. Her fears were confirmed when a faint snapping nose was heard and Angel hurriedly drew back his hand.
"…I'm Angel," he said reluctantly.
"Kenpachi Zaraki. If you'll excuse me, I have some business to attend to. I spent too long here already." He turned and walked away. Buffy stayed behind for a bit, wanting to savor her last look at two men who meant so much to her.
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Spike and Angel were long gone, but Buffy was still haunting—for lack of a better word—her grave. That might have been a bit morbid, but the quiet gave the girl time to think.
Then an energy fell about her like a thick blanket, making her gasp for air until she remembered that she didn't really need to breath. The power still pressed at her and only grew heavier.
But, just when Buffy thought she couldn't take it anymore, she saw Kenpachi again—although he was dressed oddly, and was that a sword?—and the power didn't feel quite so oppressive. In fact, as soon as Buffy saw him, she realized that the power was very familiar.
He grinned at her. "Hey there, Blondie. Care for a fight?"
"How can you see me? I'm dead, you know. That probably means that a spar is out of the question too, Kenpachi." The man didn't seem too concerned with that assertion.
"Yeah, I know. But we can still spar. It'll be quick. Plus, it'll let me tell you a little something." Buffy's blue eyes gleamed with curiousity as she slipped into a fighting stance, almost immediately having to dodge one of Kenpachi's wild attacks.
"What is it?" she grunted, retaliating with a powerful kick-punch combo. Kenpachi sort of woofed in response to Buffy knocking a bit of air out of his lungs.
"You're gonna go somewhere that I can't follow, Blondie. I can't explain really, so you'll have to figure it out along the way. But when you get there, find the eleventh division if you want to talk to me. I'll be there."
While he was talking they were trading blows, but Buffy stopped for a second after he finished. She was about to ask something, when the hilt of Kenpachi's sword slammed into her forehead, glowed blue and then Kenpachi wasn't there, the graveyard wasn't there, and the chain coming out of her chest wasn't there. A rundown village and scared, dirty people had replaced all of that.
Buffy Summers cursed.
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Years Later…
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Life—if one could call the afterlife that—was difficult in the lower levels of Rukongai, especially for someone who was not used to being alone, but Buffy managed somehow. She tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, but when hunger gnawed at her stomach she had to fight other denizens of Rukongai for mere scraps.
Buffy hadn't lost the strength that had come with being the Slayer, so those fights rarely lasted long unless children were involved. Those days she starved rather than hurt children.
There were days—quite a few of them—when she cursed Kenpachi for doing whatever it was he'd done to her. The glowy-sword thing, the cryptic words, and then not telling her anything. If she ever saw him again, she'd give him more than just a black eye. Probably.
But the only problem that Buffy had with that plan was that she had no idea where the eleventh division was, how to get there, and how to get to Kenpachi if she did. That was why Buffy was in that district when a huge demon like thing with a hole through it's chest and a white bone mask. Buffy stared at it after she saw it for a few minutes.
"How am I gonna stake that?" she asked no one in particular, even as she moved to somehow fight it. Buffy could almost hear Xander quip, "Oh look, it's got a pre-made hole in it. How nice of it." Buffy didn't think it was so nice. Buffy thought that it was annoying. So Buffy was going to take that annoyance out on the creature come hell or high water.
After a long time of ineffectual hits against the thing, Buffy had it's full attention as an annoying pest that needed to be gotten rid of before it could enjoy it's meal. Buffy supposed that was a good thing for the people she was protecting; not so much for her.
It was just when Buffy thought that she couldn't fight anymore—nothing she was doing was making an effect—that two men dressed all in black and carrying swords showed up.
One of them was bald, with red markings around his eyes. From Buffy's viewpoint on top of the monster's head, he was dancing. And saying something about luck. Right.
The other guy was 'pretty'. Black hair was cut to just barely sweep past his chin, and around one eye he had feathers attached. He looked more concerned with the other guy than the monster that was trying to kill her. For some odd reason, Buffy was reminded strongly of Cordelia.
"Hey! You guys with the swords! Help me kill this thing!" she screamed, hoping that it was loud enough to get their attention. The two looked at each other then at her. The pretty one jumped up on top of the head with her while the bald one distracted the monster.
"My, you're beautiful. I am Ayasegawa Yumichika."
"Buf—wait, no, it's Summers Buffy."
"Buffy? What an unlovely name." Buffy twitched. Yes, he definitely reminded her of Cordelia.
"Right, anyways… How do we kill it?" she asked. Yumichika shrugged.
"We don't. I take you somewhere else, and we let Ikkaku kill it." Yumichika grabbed Buffy around her waist and jumped down, ignoring her protests that she was fine, that she could get down herself, and that she could have killed the thing if only someone had told her how to do it.
Madarame Ikkaku took out the Hollow with one slice of his sword, letting it fall to the ground as he turned to Yumichika and Buffy.
"That was way too easy, Yumi, I don't understand why Taichou insisted that both of us come. Anyway, who's this, and what kind of idiot are they trying to fight a Hollow without a zanpakuto?" he drawled, ignoring Buffy's gasp of anger.
Yumichika was about to answer, but Buffy beat him to it. "I'm Summers Buffy, and I'm no idiot! If someone had only told me how to kill it, I would have been fine. I've fought things worse than that, and I've killed them too." She flicked her finger into Ikkaku's chest, and was satisfied when the bald man stumbled back a bit.
That satisfaction lessened a bit when Ikkaku's eyes gleamed with something that Buffy had seen in the eyes of many people she'd faced over the years; and sometimes even her own. Certainly Faith's, and Spike's. The gleam of anticipation for the fight to come.
She wasn't feeling that gleam in her own eyes now.
"You're strong," Ikkaku stated happily. "Was that a challenge, Summers? 'Cause I'll gladly take you on." Yumichika snorted.
"She's not even a shinigami, Ikkaku, and we have to get back. Kusajishi-fukutaichou needs a babysitter and I refuse to do it alone."
"Can't we just foist the brat off onto Kuchiki-taichou?"
"No, Kuchiki-taichou would know it was us after that last time. Besides, it's almost time for her afternoon nap. But if we miss the time for it, she won't go to sleep and then we have to deal with her awake. Do you want that?"
Ikkaku finally backed down and rolled his eyes. "Fine. But we're dropping her off at the Academy. She can fight, and I want to see her in the eleventh division. Taichou will be happy that there's a strong girl in there for that brat to take after. Probably."
Buffy's ears perked up at the words "eleventh division", but before she could demand to know what they were talking about, she was grabbed around the waist for the second time that day and her captors took off with her in tow.
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It was a year after the two shinigami had dropped Buffy off at the Shinigami Academy, and she was happy—sort of—to be able to eat, and to learn how to protect the world from those Hollow things. They reminded her of vampires, only instead of blood, they ate souls. And just like vampires, there were ways to kill Hollows.
Buffy was a fast learner with those. Not so much with the magics, but that had always been Willow and Gile's thing.
And at least she knew where to find Kenpachi now. Those history lessons were good for something. And she didn't care what they said about an impenetrable rei-whatever field around him, Buffy would find some way of doing some damage.
She'd done it before. How much difference could being dead make?
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A couple years later…
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Kenpachi was quite unconcerned when he was informed by Ikkaku that a few Academy recruits were going to be introduced. After the first few times, he never bothered to show up to the introductions, finding that he was unfailingly disappointed by their fear and lack of strength. Kenpachi usually let Yachiru, Ikkaku, or Yumichika do it.
Only, it seemed that the reason that Ikkaku had told him was because they were all going to be busy. Yachiru had her little club thing, Yumichika was at a spa—whatever that was—and Ikkaku had been challenged for about the fortieth time by Tetsuzaemon Iba. Kenpachi grumbled. If he could ever remember his fourth seat's name, then he might have told the man to do it instead.
The Academy recruits were predictably terrified. He applauded them silently for not fainting—ah, there was always one. Well, there seemed to be one who was faring better than the rest, and they were a bit odd.
Shorter than the rest, with cloth wrapped around his head, Kenpachi didn't think much of him. It wasn't because of his size—Yachiru was shorter than anyone and she, for some reason, terrified people—more like the feeling he gave off.
"Welcome to the Eleventh Division, don't kill anyone in a spar, and remember to bath once in a while. Tenth Divison complains about it sometimes. Just remember those rules and you'll be fine. Now get out."
They started to file out, clearly wanting to get as far away from his reiatsu as possible. Except for the short one who faced him and seemed to grin.
"I want to fight you, Zaraki Kenpachi!" Ah, that was the feeling. Overconfident and girlie like Yumichika. Kenpachi really didn't want another Yumichika. One was enough.
Still, Kenpachi had been challenged, and he wasn't about to turn down a challenge. He was just about to suggest that they go outside when a tiny, rather familiar fist planted itself into his revealed eye; an equally small foot kicked into his neck, then he felt the person kick off the back of his neck. The recruit was really strong, Kenpachi would give him that.
A bell tinkled, signaling for Kenpachi to reach up and grab the attacker's oncoming fist and swing him into the wall. But before he hit, the recruit pushed off the wall instead and darted outside. Kenpachi followed close behind, a slight manic grin on his face.
The recruit wasn't there, but Kenpachi soon knew where he was, as feet collided with his leg. He pulled his sword without hesistation.
"Come and fight, like a man, face to face." Kenpachi heard a snort then took a sandal to the face. The person flipped off and landed in front. Wisps of blond hair had started to escape from the cloth head covering.
"What's the point? I can't cut you. And I'm not good enough with a sword to compete with a guy called Kenpachi—the best swordsmen. But if I hit hard enough, I bet I can break a bone or two." The recruit—who was obviously very good with shunpo—blurred out and Kenpachi had to dodge the oncoming blow. He retaliated with a swipe from his sword, not that he hit anything. Kenpachi hadn't expected too. Something was striking him as familiar about all of this and he couldn't help but think back to a laughing blonde girl as she tackled him.
He paid for his inattention then as the recruit kicked his knee and landed a powerful punch in his stomach. It didn't hurt—much—and it allowed Kenpachi to swing his sword down and cut through the recruit's head covering and part of their kosode, revealing that they were, in fact, a girl. And not just any girl, but Buffy Summers, a girl he continued to think about quite often. He'd never met any other woman who didn't use her looks to win—just brute strength.
Yachiru didn't count.
"I thought it was you. Took you a long time, didn't it, Buffy?"
Buffy glared at Kenpachi briefly. "It's not like you left me much to work with, Kenpachi. Oh yeah, "go to the eleventh division", I can totally do that without knowing a thing about where your konsou dumped me. And it's not like I'm really happy with that, you know. I've been to heaven before, and Rukongai ain't it."
Kenpachi shrugged. "You're smart. You figured it out. And I don't know where you went the last time you died, but you're here now, so are you going to stay?"
She smirked. "I don't have anywhere else to go. And I find that I don't really want to retire from killing monsters. Should be fun here, right? That's what the pamphlet said…" Buffy moved as though she wanted to kiss him. Kenpachi bent down. Buffy sucker-punched him with a smile.
Off to the side Ikkaku muttered to himself, "I knew she looked familiar. Taichou must be happy. He has someone else to fight with now…"
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Yeah, I was watching the last episode of BTVS at around five in the morning, and this just came to me. Well, the idea did. The story took a little longer. Sorry about the OOCness, I'm not really happy with it. Except for the part where Kenpachi breaks Angel's hand. That was fun to write.