Chapter II: Duty
Kenpachi aired out Yachiru's room and let her have it despite hesitating over leaving her to sleep alone. What else am I supposed to do? She had spent months in the wilderness all by herself. It was safe here; with the strongest Shinigami sleeping in the room next to hers surely nothing could come to harm her, the captain thought as he was rolling out Yachiru's futon and changing the sheets with clean ones.
Retsu was too tall and buxom for her kimonos and too small for his but he gave her one of his better changes of clothes, consisting of a new nagajuban and a clean dull green yukata. He had to dress her the first time, his fingers fumbling with the fabric as he ghosted over the bare skin of her chest, tightly overlapping the yukata's ends. She would like her scar to be covered. The robes trailed behind her and hid her hands completely, making her look like a child, even more so that her feet were bare.
While dressing her was easy, trying to comb her hair proved to be a nightmare. Even Yachiru did not use to put up such a fight. The man tried several times until she finally let him. Unohana's long black hair was full of tangles and despite Kenpachi's efforts to be gentle, she ran off at least a couple times and even scratched his face to blood once, leaving three red lines upon his cheek. The male could only be happy he had cut her nails before that. He found her again and continued combing her hair until her tresses were smooth. If she was stubborn he was twice so.
At least Retsu seemed to like his cooking. The first time they sat together to sup, halfway through his meal Kenpachi noticed that she was not eating. Her hand was fidgeting with the chopsticks in front of her. He lifted up his own pair, moving them, showing her how to hold them. The woman adjusted her hold and repeated his motions but when she tried to grasp a piece of tamagoyaki, it fell from their grip again and again. The captain held the piece with his chopsticks and brought it to her lips, urging her to open her mouth. She did, albeit with some reluctance and he slid it carefully past her lips. He proceeded to feed her that first evening, losing himself in the sheer tranquillity that they shared in the dim-lit kitchen.
When it was time for bed, Kenpachi once more faltered about leaving her alone. Perhaps he could still move the futon to his room, place it in the far end of it, away enough from his bedding so he would not disturb her too much while still being within his reach.
In the end, he decided against it. She had spent months in the wilderness, alone, out of her mind, wounded. She had never needed him. Perhaps he could allow sleeping in the same room, if they had been friends but they never had been. Retsu hated him and he hated her in return. If she had not… It did not matter now. He had put his strength behind murdering her and it was a miracle she was still alive.
The captain locked the front door and took the key in his hand. He heard her light steps behind him. If it did not break his heart, he would have smiled – so easily she had grown attached to him, unable to be left alone for more than a few minutes. All of this after half a century of running away from him.
Kenpachi caught her forearm and led her to Yachiru's room. The air was somewhat stale but the nights were still too cold to leave the window open for longer. The room seemed not so different from when she left. He had tidied up the colouring books and the pencils the little girl liked to scatter on the floor and put them in the closet together with her clothes and other small stuff she owned. The hope he tried to hold onto waned with every day that passed. He knelt down and pushed the covers to the side.
"Lay down." the captain said but the woman did not react, just staring at him with that somewhat wary, half-sad but curious look she kept, as if he was speaking to her in some foreign tongue. It was useless; his words caused her nothing but pain. Kenpachi grabbed her hands and pulled her down. She gracefully dropped to her knees.
"Wait." he stopped her from sitting down more with his motions than with his words. His hands fumbled with the belt of the yukata until the knot came off and he stripped the garment, leaving her in the nagajuban. The man adjusted the white robe, making sure that her scar was covered, and with a push on her upper arm made her sit, then lie down. He carelessly folded the green yukata in two and placed it on the floor beside her futon.
Zaraki could not help but marvel how calm Retsu was, lying down, her eyes closed shut, sleep already crawling behind her eyelids. A tiring day it was but she was safe now. It seemed to him that she looked much less like the wildling he had found in the forest mere hours ago and more like herself – gone was the feral fear; she was clean and dressed in new clothes, her hair combed, nails trimmed and belly full. Although none of those things could cure her of her state, he hoped that at least she was feeling well.
Well, he was here already, why not do the work? Kenpachi pulled the covers up to her chin and tucked her in. When he turned away, ready to get up and leave, he felt fingers catching his hand and looked back at the woman. Fuck, how could he possibly leave her? She understood nothing now, would it matter that much if they slept in the same room? He knew he was not one to oppose temptation nor be tempted. When he wanted something, he just took it.
Yet, a sin almost too heavy to bear lied upon his shoulders. A crime. Kenpachi touched her fingers with his other hand and she let him go. He turned off the kerosene lamp and after he saw Retsu close her eyes again, exited the room quietly and entered his, leaving the doors slightly open so she could find him easily if need be.
The captain quickly changed for bed in a pair of breeches and lied down, putting the key under his pillow. In the quiet of the night, he could swear nothing has changed. Maybe it hasn't. Maybe he had gone mad during those days he wandered through the forest, losing his mind instead of his way. And yet Kenpachi did not know if her presence was the cause of his madness or her absence. In her presence he never questioned is sanity; even in the years he had spent in the Gotei 13, he had sworn to kill her only in her absence. When Retsu had been standing across the hall, slightly to his right all he could do was stare at her absent-mindedly.
Was he dreaming still or he never really fell asleep? The hour before dawn always made one feel as if they inhabited a strange world that belonged neither to reality nor to some dreaming state. It was a rarity for him to wake up in the middle of the night and it would have taken him only a few minutes to fall asleep again if his head was not pounding with dreams too vivid and yet long forgotten. The odd shape he felt through the pillow convinced him it was all real.
Retsu.
This early in April the mornings were always chilly no matter how warm the days were. Once he threw off the covers, the cold stuck to his bare skin like a gluttonous leech and made the hairs on his arms and chest rise. The captain got up and walked across the room, holding one hand to the side of his head. The pain was so strong it was making him feel sick. He wondered why he bothered with getting up when he knew that he had run out of that bitter powder he got from the Fourth. He carefully slid the door open, not knowing if she was a deep sleeper or awoke easily just as he did. In the Zaraki district those who slept too deeply never woke up.
The man though a look would be enough – taking in her form, he found out that she slept so gracefully and serenely, surrounded by the comfort of the soft bedding, one of her hands resting on her stomach while the other seemed to be under the covers. He further opened the door and entered the room, aware of every deafening sound the wooden boards made, and got closer.
It was not a dream. Retsu really lived, not because of him but despite him.
Kenpachi knelt down to adjust the covers and saw her open her eyes. Shit, he never wanted to wake her up in that ungodly hour. He quickly adjusted the blankets, covering her arm and shoulder but was unable to leave. The raging pulsing in his skull made him sick with vertigo and he would blame the following weakness on it.
His hand went first to her face, sweeping the stray hairs away while she watched him with an emotion he could not read. She was the only one who had ever made him sad. Kenpachi bend down and embraced her, heart to heart, releasing a tortured breath.
"I've fucking missed you so… You'll never know how much you mean to me, even after all that…" he whispered, unable to speak up without his voice cracking. He had told her back there in Mugen. He hated her but he worshipped her too. Retsu did not say anything back then nor now. He was a foolish man, truly, to hold the woman he had mauled while she understood nothing and did not even move. The last this he wanted was to scare her with his closeness. He had to go back to sleep and hope that this headache would go away. Kenpachi could not allow himself to be indisposed when she depended on him. Just one more moment, one last desperate squeeze.
Hesitantly, her arms wrapped around him, her warm hands finding a place to rest on his back. He could accept it as an act of consolation but it only made him sadder. No, he could not allow himself to break down. The man took a deep breath. It hurt so much and he was feeling dizzy again, as if his mind had turned to dark water.
A couple of days passed in silence. Kenpachi noticed some faint but fresh bruises on her arms and knew that he had been too rough with her. Her wrist had bruised badly, turning a deep purple, almost black colour. He suspected it might be sprained, so he decided to examine it as best as he could and gave it a careful twist. She hissed in pain and hit him but her wrist seemed fine. He wished there was something he could do about it, put some ointment on it, but he had none. The captain left the wounds and bruises to pain him, to heal slowly, to mark his body, his skin becoming damaged, rough and discoloured.
Ikkaku's visit was not unexpected but it had escaped the captain's mind. Ever since he had found her, his usually forgotten tedious duties now as if never existed. When the lieutenant showed up with a stack of papers the surprise on his commander's face did not catch his attention.
"Oi, captain, please call in the next time you decide to take a leave. You got us worried."
Kenpachi only stared at him annoyed and angry, as if he had interrupted him while doing something important, and said nothing.
"Geez. Anyway, I have some reports for you to sign—" Ikkaku noticed a form moving in the back of the room.
A woman?
The large man quickly read his subordinate's expression and tensed, standing tall as if to block his line of view, but he saw her – curiously, and at the same time diffidently, peeking, clad in Kenpachi's yukata that was way too big and trailed after her. Her black hair was freely falling over her shoulders and down to her thighs; her grey almond-shaped eyes were lively and shining but somehow absent.
A spectre?
The late captain of the fourth division. If his captain had not reacted like this Ikkaku would have thought she was really a ghost. Whatever words rose in his throat, he knew it was better to keep them to himself. He silently handed Kenpachi the papers.
"Captain… If you need any help, you know you can count on me and Yumichika." The bald man turned around, leaving. "I know it's not my place to say, but you need to inform the Commander. You can't keep her a secret." Kenpachi knew he was right. He had to tell Kyoraku. Maybe Isane too. He had told her of Retsu's death; it was only fair she hears from him of her life.
"I will in due time." The thought had passed his mind but he had always driven it away. "Come with Yumichika to pick up the reports. Tell him about her, I don't want his shrieking to startle her."
"Roger that." The lieutenant waved his hand goodbye and walked away.
Ikkaku returned the next day with Yumichika who dared to give a few disapproving looks, which the captain noticed but dismissed. He did not want to say those words; he did not want to lose her so soon after she had answered his pleads. The captain put on his uniform and threw his haori over his shoulder. He disliked having duties, he detested the bureaucratic part of his captaincy and now duty was clawing at his back, whispering in his ears. He had to. She resembled a bird with a broken wing, one he had taken home but he was unable to nurse back to health. He knew only to scar and murder.
The weight of leadership made Kyoraku look older, solemn expressions invading his easy-going demeanour. He had lost his mentor, his best friend, and gave orders to one of his oldest friends to fight another captain to the death. It was always complicated between the three of them, the oldest captains of the Gotei 13. He thought he had made peace with the notion that they were going to die a violent death but he never imagined he would be the last one living.
When Kenpachi entered his office with a haunted look on his face, the weight of his first order as a commander came down on him. They had won the war and yet they had all lost so much. It was a miracle war did not make monsters of them all.
"You have asked for a private meeting, Captain Zaraki?" enquired the commander with the half-formal, half-laidback tone he had adopted. His eyes glanced at the documents in from of him one last time before he firmly set them on the man before him. Kenpachi's expression remained the same. The seated man thought he had not heard him but the captain of the 11th squad spoke.
"She is alive."
His voice was loud but hoarse as if the words were clawing on his throat, refusing to leave his mouth. Her? There could be only one person whose name he would refuse to say in this childish manner but this was impossible. Had he finally gone mad? Many warriors danced on the edge of madness when engaged in battle but Kenpachi fought for pleasure, he sought the battles, sought the madness. Maybe he had found it. Or perhaps the weight had crushed even a strong man as him. What hope was there for anyone else then?
"Who?" Kyoraku had to be certain so he asked, casting his assumptions aside.
"She." He stressed. "Retsu. Unohana. Yachiru. Kenpachi." He continued as if her names were a waterfall he could not stop, the expression on his face unreadable. The commander kept his composure as he straightened up in his chair. He had to ask some questions to be certain if he gained a friend back or lost another captain. He had to tread lightly.
"May I ask where she is? Does anyone else know of this? How is she?"
"She's at my house with Yumichika and Ikkaku. Only they know and I. Her body is unharmed except for—" he took a deep breath that sounded shaky to the commander and swallowed his words. It was unusual, almost impossible and made Kyoraku seriously worried. Ikkaku and Yumichika would not play along to a madman's visions, even if that man was their captain. Furthermore, those scratches on his face. It had to be true.
"She isn't herself." Kenpachi continued. "There ain't a drop of reiatsu in her. She doesn't speak and she doesn't remember anything or anyone. I doubt she even understands me."
"Since when is she there?" Kyoraku asked.
"Three days or four." The commander's jaw tightened. Kenpachi could have come earlier. He should have. If this was indeed true, it was unheard of. He himself has read the report of her death, the only one written in Zaraki's unstable writing. The wounds he had described were incompatible with life. He had to see her as soon as possible, right away, and prepare an emergency captain meeting. Not to mention the other stirrings this would cause.
"Well, Captain Zaraki, thank you for telling me although later than I'd have liked," Kyoraku announced as he stood up. "Your words are certainly unexpected and demand urgent action. Return to your house and remain there until I send word for you. I can promise you it won't be long. Expect a visit from the medics as soon as possible. Now, I'm afraid I have to deal with that matter and leave you."
The commander's mind was racing as he exited his office. He had to inform Central 46, he had to visit Kenpachi's house and he had to call a captain meeting. He hoped, he prayed all of this was true; that however changed and unwell Retsu was alive.
The woman, his lieutenant and 3rd seat were awkwardly sitting in the living room, Retsu a little further away from the two men, glaring at them suspiciously like an untrusting child. Kenpachi would like to think he saw her face brighten up a little when she saw him, the tension leaving her body.
"How did it go, Captain?" asked Ikkaku as he stood up.
"It's done." He walked closer to her. "Had she spoken?"
Yumichika shook his head. It was expected. Kenpachi motioned to Ikkaku to move further away and pulled out a pair of white tabi socks he had bought on the way to the Gotei 13's barracks. He sat down with his legs crossed and tapped her calf, tugging on her ankles so Retsu would catch his drift. She moved her legs from beneath her and stretched them forth. He caught her bare feet in his hands to warm them up before putting on the socks. By the feeling of it, he had guessed her size correctly – only slightly larger than his hand but narrower. The captain fastened the ties snugly and wrapped the ends of the yukata but chose to keep her feet in his lap instead of to let her go.
There was no knock on the door before a tall monochrome figure entered with a hand on the hilt of her zanpakuto.
A.N. My plan is to update every 5-7 days, eve though most of the fic is written and it passed 50k words. Some chapters need strong editing and I'm having exams the next couple of weeks (and I study law on top of it) so, yeah... Again, comment if you liked or didn't like it and tell me if Kenpachi is too OOC (cause I'm so scared of mauling his character, I remember joking around I've made him into some version of Heatcliff). And also tell me if the POV change (we have a little bit of Ikkaku and Kyouraku here) clicks with you or I have to separate it in some way. VALIDATE ME!
The story is also on AO3 and if you want to spread the word and have a tumblr, reblog this post.
