Chapter Two: The Specialist
"How long do we have to stand here?"
"Oh stop complaining, we got here five minutes ago."
Ichigo and Rukia stood at the edge of the curb just outside one of the dozen or so entrances to the Karakura Airport. Told by Urahara to only hold up a sheet of paper with the name 'M. O. Shepard' written legibly in black marker, they waited for the supposed guest they were told to expect. Men and women of all kinds came out from the obscured area where the planes unloaded its passengers and their luggage. Most were tourists, businessmen, doctors, and occasionally a strange fellow or two would come out with even more peculiar baggage. Many others awaited them by the doors with cards with assorted names like 'Smith' or 'Wilcox', and even the peculiar 'Dernacus'. Ichigo complained to Rukia quickly after arriving not because of boredom or lack of sleep, but he disliked waiting on the words of others. His task was to wait for a man or woman, not being told even the most basic description of the person, and it hinged on this person arriving on time. Now this person could have been accidentally delayed due to sudden changes in weather or the excessive redundancies in American security, but until someone approached Ichigo's card he would have to stand there and hope for the best.
"Well now, it seems Mister Urahara sent me a welcoming committee." Ichigo was so lost in his train of thought that he did not notice the well mannered man come to stand before him. Standing at an average height and slightly muscular build, he was a few inches taller than the teenage Ichigo. Wearing a simple pair of jeans and a grey tee-shirt, the only thing noticeable was his heavy duty carbon-fiber boots and his sunglasses, which had brick red lenses. He was clearly an American, carrying himself with charm and swagger just like the Americans in the movies and television he saw. But Ichigo suddenly noticed the man just spoke in perfect Japanese.
"It's good to see you again, Marcus." Rukia grabbed the American's right hand and shook it like a gentleman.
"Not as much as a good thing for me to see you, that means this town is under control, or one would hope given the fact I was summoned… Who is this? He looks like a human, yet I sense something else about you."
"Hey, I'm a Substitute Shinigami, Mister 'Hot Shot' American!" Ichigo could barely control himself as he vented his frustration in a childish manner.
"Forgive me, I did not mean to antagonize you in any way. Frankly I should have been more forthcoming. I know exactly who you are, Kurosaki Ichigo." Ichigo was somewhat shocked, enough to calm down and regain his composure. "Urahara knows I have landed, but before we depart to his residence, may I ask whoever is driving a favor?
"Yes?" An unmistakable voice echoed from just outside the glass doors to the airport. They all looked to find Ichigo's father sitting at the wheel of the family car.
"What's the address to your friend's apartment, where the abduction took place?" Marc, short for Marcus, whispered into Rukia's ear. She replied with a similarly secretive whisper, but why they did so Ichigo failed to comprehend. Marcus then walked out with his two possessions, a worn yellow backpack and a well secured box shaped to finely package a sword for a transpacific flight. The commotion of other citizens coming and going muffled their conversation, but Ichigo's dad smiled and opened the trunk for Marcus, and then gestured for Ichigo and Rukia to hurry up and get in the car.
"So, nothing was touched since the incident, which occurred?" Marcus surveyed the torn up apartment, now well lit by the late morning sun. Ichigo and Rukia stood at odd places in the main room with him, forming a triangle of pondering Soul Reapers."
"In our time zone, about three o' clock in the morning. We haven't touched this apartment since Lieutenant Matsumoto was abducted."
"Can I see her bed specifically? If we are to find any trace at all, it will most likely be there." Walking up a flight of stairs they found the room where Rangiku disappeared, and Marcus immediately found something.
"And there it is." He carefully dashed over sheets and cushions and kneeled before the right bedpost. Pulling out a tissue and cupping it over his hand, Marcus picked up a single object: a glass vial no larger than a shell casing.
"Kisuke Urahara, it's been a while." Marcus shook hands with Urahara as he entered his quaint shop. Ichigo was surprised at how many people actually knew this man, whom to him was an enigma. As Urahara led Shepard inside, Ichigo and Rukia followed, but Kisuke's attention was fixed on his new guest.
"So, I'm sure you're wondering who this is, Ichigo?" Kurosaki was surprisingly mistaken, almost to the point of shock, but as he took a seat at Urahara's table in the back of his shop, he would not pass up the opportunity to answer.
"I can tell he's a Shinigami, but I've never seen him before, and I give him credit I wouldn't have guessed him to be one."
"If you knew about my exact line of work, then you would take that as a compliment." Marcus replied.
"To clarify, Ichigo, Marcus is a Shinigami, but he also works in America." Urahara added.
"So? Does that have anything to do with getting Matsumoto back?"
"Have you ever wondered how different society is out west, or in your case far to the east?" Marcus leaned towards Ichigo slightly, making direct eye contact, "Out west, greed comes before honor, selfishness comes before sacrifice, and the rich come before the poor. But before I get ahead of yourself, may I ask you a question?"
"Go ahead?" Ichigo was curious as to his change from the dark and grim tone of his voice as he described the 'greatness' of America, to the sudden and simple request.
"Before you took up the sword and the black robe to fight hollows, how many people in your life could see spirits?"
"Well… there was myself, my sister Karin, and technically my friend Ishida. But, you have still not answered my question."
"I will get to that, Mr. Kurosaki. I'm guessing, even though they may be absent from this current meeting, you have friends or other family that developed powers similar to a Shinigami's soon after you becoming one yourself?"
Kurosaki was speechless, but his expression proclaimed how taken aback he was. 'How could the man have known that?' Ichigo thought to himself.
"Soul Reapers with large amounts of spiritual pressure, and little control, qualities of all talented recruits just like you when you first joined, cannot keep such power bottled up inside consistently at first. The power oozes out like radiation, directly affecting those around them, and more so those who are around these recruits often. Of course when in proximity of another Shinigami or a Hollow, there are no ill effects to either, but when in proximity of a group of humans… Continued exposure over a few weeks time can give a human the power to see and hear the dead, and after that, maybe even their own powers."
"So are you saying I brought my friends into this mess? That it's my fault?" Ichigo suddenly was overcome with grief and remorse, thinking of all of the torment and sacrifice his friends had made to fight beside him.
"Out west we call it 'Guilty by Association', laugh at it all you want, I didn't make it up, but it's a rare occurrence. Soul Reapers, I mean Shinigami, train for months or even years to become a true reaper, and by the time they come to the human world they have learned to control their spiritual pressure. You have had to undergo training in not only the human world, but also in a school environment. From what I could sense as we drove here from the airport, I could make out only a few that actually possessed any powers. I'm surprised your entire class hasn't changed. Oh and Kisuke, you know there's a Quincy in town, a boy about Ichigo's age, blue hair and wears glasses." Ichigo and Kisuke smiled, both letting out a snicker, letting Marcus know the Quincy was not a problem.
"Trained Soul Reapers have the issue as well, but it's far less likely to occur when in a gigai." Rukia chimed in, "When we hunt hollows in the human world, where we have little use for gigai other than to blend in, we exude spiritual pressure that can have adverse effects on human society, so we take precautions. Hunting at night, keeping crowds from getting involved, etc, it keeps humans from making our jobs… complicated."
"What do you mean adverse effects?"
"Ichigo… One in ninety-eight people can see spirits of the dead in my country. We don't know how or why, or rather the question is why there are less that can see the dead in your Karakura town…" Ichigo's eyes immediately widened, "Marcus pulled a folded sheet of paper from a pants pocket. Unfolding it, Marcus read from the paper aloud, "Thanks to the brilliance of a US Census every 10 years, one can compare that number to the total approximated population of the United States and… That's about 3.13 million people, just in America."
"Did you find anything at the apartment, Marcus" Urahara interrupted, attempting to keep Ichigo's brain from being overloaded.
"Yes, and you were right, which is very bad." Marcus pulled a sealed rectangular plastic package from his pocket and dropped it onto the table. Inside was what Marcus had collected from beside Matsumoto's bed, a small glass vial no larger than a shell casing from a handgun. Upon closer inspection, a serial number and the logo of a company was inscribed onto the side, most likely with a laser or other complex mechanism.
"Great…" Urahara sighed with a grin, but his tone was grim, it was something Urahara was not taking well, "What the hell does Braxton want with a Shinigami?"
"The point being is that he and his company have their far-reaching grasp on her, and that's what matters. But we can't make a move until he does."
"Woah woah woah, could you please take a step back? Who the hell is Braxston?" Ichigo added.
"Do you know how lucky you are to have become a Shinigami while still a human? I mean, the position didn't exist before you came along. But every Soul Reaper has no memory of ever being a human, their first memories are either of the hard-knock life of Rukongai or the upper class splendor of the Seireitei. Here's where my type of Soul Reapers come in, they who have retained the memories of the human world and used that experience to become powerful Shinigami. The same also works for hollows, only thanks to Aizen they can come back as Arrancar. Braxton is a very powerful Vasto Lorde that has very powerful allies here."
"That's enough questions for one day, Marcus. We need to figure out what to do next." Rukia added.
"We unfortunately, have to sit on our asses while Braxton makes the first move. We have no idea if, when, or how Rangiku is being moved out of the country. We don't even know why he wants her, but what is important is that she is at his mercy and we cannot let any harm come to her." Matthew stated assertively.
Meanwhile
The docks were slippery, lightly coated with rain as a drizzle came down and settled in small, spread out puddles. They shipping yard itself was bustling with life and business as dozens of large metal crated were moved from place to place, and in the center of it all, something sinister was taking place.
"I believe everything is in order, Mister Braxton?" Dock Workers with lemon colored hardhats and dirtied khakis pulled a strange device from the back of a long black minivan, large enough to fill a body even. They set it down in the front section of a blue shipping container, divided in half by a steel wall with a locked door at its center, all while two businessmen smoked cigars under an umbrella being held by a secretary or an assistant obviously hired for her neckline and her legs. The first man was a normal looking businessman, with a salt and pepper drill sergeant haircut and the posture of a military man, the second was a far more sinister character, dark, brooding, and dastardly as he was composed. He wore a suit colored shades of dark grey and black, and three quarters of his face was covered by a skull mask that seemed to radiate evil. The only thing not covered was his right eye and eyebrow, his hair just as black as his suit and his eye even darker. The first businessman had gone to great lengths to secure undetectable passage to the West Coast of the USA and was hoping to make sure everything was in order.
"If she and that spy are in a California shipping dock by the end of the week, then you will be rewarded posthumously. Every day they arrive there ahead of schedule, I add a zero onto the end of the number we agreed on. And every day they are late…"
"Just crack open your piggy bank, Mister Braxton."
"I'll be glad too." The two men shook hands in a friendly manner, verifying their agreement.
