Dear Reader, Here is a nice short chapter! I hope you enjoy, since things are about to get complicated again! Peace, love and good vibes, The Kujaku
Chapter 6 Jinzen and the Smithy
"I've been doing my best.
What else can I do?
Is there something I've missed
that will help me through?
After You Came
Graeme Edge
"Shunsui?"
An unfamiliar voice woke Yumichika from his sleep.
He had fallen asleep on the roof, his head resting on Ikkaku's leg. Ikkaku lay sprawled across the terra cotta tiles, mouth agape, snoring fitfully. And a couple feet away, Captain Kyoraku slumbered away in a manner that was much more dignified in appearance than Ikkaku's.
Neither Ikkaku nor Captain Kyoraku responded to the voice.
Yumichika sat up slowly. He had not had a sip from the captain's bottle, and so his head and vision were immediately clear.
He saw a tall, thin man wearing a captain's haori standing near the edge of the roof. Yumichika could not stop himself from drawing in a sudden breath. The man was astoundingly beautiful, almost angelic in appearance.
Long, gray hair flowed down his back, almost to his waist. His eyes were brown and piercing. He had a sophisticated look about him, and yet there was a kindness, a benevolence in his face, which was very fine and very pale.
Yumichika could sense immense power in the man, although he portrayed a somewhat delicate exterior. And perhaps that was why Yumichika felt immediately drawn to him. He felt he was looking at someone akin to him – delicate and fragile in appearance, but harboring a tremendous ability.
"Shunsui!" the man repeated, this time with more vigor.
Captain Kyoraku opened one eye. A funny smile curled one corner of his mouth. "Juushiro."
"Have you been up here all night?" the newcomer asked.
"Absolutely."
"But it's freezing out here. It's the middle of winter. Are you crazy?"
Shunsui pushed up slowly onto his elbows. "Oh, it's not bad when you know the right way to keep warm." The funny smile intensified. "The right juice goes a long way." He looked beside him to see the empty bottle lying on its side and beyond it, Ikkaku, still snoring away.
"Hey, Cue Ball." Shunsui took the bottle and prodded Ikkaku in the shoulder. "Time to get up."
Yumichika got to his feet and straightened his kimono. He was now regretting his decision to wear such a fine garment, as it had not weathered the cold and damp night air very well.
"I don't think we've met."
The new captain was speaking.
"Yumichika Ayasegawa," Yumichika replied with a tilt of his head.
"Juushiro Ukitake."
Yumichika felt an unexpected charge shoot through his body. This was Captain Ukitake, the man of whom he'd heard so many great things. Of course, he'd heard great things about Captain Kyoraku, too; and although he liked him very much, he didn't sense anything particularly tremendous about the man. Ukitake, on the other hand, despite the placid exterior, seemed to be riding rough herd on a power that Yumichika could only contemplate with fear.
He knew that both men were the senior captains of the Gotei 13, said to have been trained by Yamamoto himself, their skills unmatched within the ranks. Perhaps he had been expecting them to be more venerable or stolid in appearance and manner. Instead, he had encountered a flamboyant, hard-drinking, soft-soaping dandy and a man who could pass a beautiful, flowing sliver of heaven whose immediate impression was mild and welcoming.
"I see Shunsui has found himself some new drinking friends," Ukitake was saying.
"Oh, uh . . . one new drinking friend," Yumichika corrected. "I didn't have anything."
"You just hung out here on the roof overnight, in the cold, for . . . fun?" Ukitake poked with a dubious gleam in his eye.
"My friend wanted to stop, and so I stayed with him," Yumichika replied.
"That was good of you, Ayasegawa-san," Captain Ukitake said with a kind smile. "Especially since it looks like he might need some help getting back to wherever he came from." A pause. "You're a Shinigami?"
Yumichika was surprised. He was not wearing his uniform.
"Yes, but . . . how did you know?"
"With a reiatsu like yours, I'd be surprised if you weren't a Shinigami. It's very powerful," the captain explained, adding with a curious inflection, "And very unusual."
Before Yumichika could inquire any further, Captain Kyoraku spoke. "You might have to wake him up. He won't budge."
Yumichika looked over in irritation at Ikkaku still crashed out in the same place. "I'll take care of him," he said.
Ukitake looked to his long-time friend. "Shunsui, we've got a meeting with the captain commander in thirty minutes—"
"A meeting? But it's our day off—"
"The mission takes priority," Ukitake shrugged. "If we hurry, you can get yourself cleaned up and . . . a little more sober before we meet him."
Shunsui sighed. "Okay, then let's go." Then to Yumichika, "Oh, and Yum—Yumchaka, let him know he's welcome to join me for drinks any time."
Yumichika nodded, even though he had no intention of doing so.
"It was nice to meet you," Ukitake said pleasantly, quickly asking, "What squad are you in?"
"Eleven," Yumichika replied. "We're both in Eleven."
Ukitake raised an eyebrow. "Zaraki's squad." The curious look on his face deepened into something almost mysterious. "I wouldn't have expected that." In the next moment, he turned to Shunsui. "We'd better hurry."
And then they were gone, and Yumichika was left alone to contend with a stone-cold drunken Ikkaku.
Yet, an idea was formulating in his mind. And dare he say it: a good idea. A plausible idea. And idea that could mean a world of difference moving forward.
"I'm going to go check out the market. I feel like cooking tonight."
Ikkaku only grunted, but that did not dampen Yumichika's spirits. It was late afternoon that same day; and after having finally slept off his intoxication, Ikkaku had decided it was time for him to get to work on his captain's order to procure a zanpakuto. Actually, he'd been told that he'd have one week after returning from patrol to procure a new weapon, and he'd already wasted almost three days. He didn't defy or disappoint his captain, and so he and Yumichika had set out to accomplish the task as soon as Ikkaku's head had felt well enough.
They walked down Yetten's Way, a narrow cobble-stoned path between two low, squat buildings, on their way towards the center of the Gotei 13 garrison area.
"Captain Zaraki said the sword smith had set up temporary shop right next to the old forge," Yumichika went on. "Why don't you go ahead and I'll meet you there in a little bit."
"I still don't see why I need a new sword," Ikkaku grumbled. "I can fight just fine with this one."
"Well, if it's not a zanpakuto—"
"Why do I need a zanpakuto?" Ikkaku cut him off. "I don't need any special tricks to be able to fight."
Yumichika shook his head. "Don't argue with me about it. I'm not the one who told you to get a new one." They came to corner. "Okay, I'm going to the market. I'll catch up with you at the sword smith."
"Fine," came the mirthless reply, followed by, "And get something good to eat. I'm starving."
They parted ways.
Yumichika walked the fifty meters to the next turn. He looked back over his shoulder. Ikkaku was not in sight. Instead of continuing on to the market, Yumichika leapt up onto the rooftops. If he used flashstep, he could be at Squad Thirteen in under a minute.
Ikkaku entered the make-shift metalworks.
Reconstruction of the original forge was still underway, but two doors down, the temporary operation had been set up, manned by several itinerant smithys who worked on a rotational schedule.
The one working now looked up as Ikkaku came in. He was about the same age as Ikkaku, close to the same height, his complexion ruddy and glistening over the open coal pit. His exposed arms were muscular and covered with a thin sheen of sweat in the heat generated by the ovens. He wore a thin cotton shirt, drenched with perspiration, under the leather work apron that hung from his neck. His hair so close-cut that it was impossible to tell its color. When he looked up to see who had entered the shop, his eyes were a glacial blue, which seemed out of place in the sweltering surroundings.
There was no one else in the shop.
Ikkaku was already predisposed to be disagreeable, given that he felt no need to find a new weapon; but his initial greeting with the smithy made him somewhat less obdurate.
"Something I can help you with?" the man asked with an open smile and a hearty voice, setting down his tools.
"I, uh . . . my captain sent me here to get a sword," Ikkaku answered, looking around at the dozens of weapons out on display.
"A sword? But you already have a sword." The man nodded at Ikkaku's waist.
"He sent me to get a zanpakuto."
"Ah, I see. May I?"
Ikkaku slid the sword from beneath his obi and handed it over.
The smithy turned the scabbarded weapon over in his hands a couple times, then drew the sword out for examining. He clutched the hilt with one hand and ran the other down the broadside. At length, he asked, "How long have you had this sword?"
"It came with me from the world of the living. The clothes on my back and the sword."
The smithy seemed to be studying Ikkaku's face, making him feel somewhat uncomfortable.
"You're a Capchetan?"
The okibi. Ikkaku had grown so used to the red eye tattoos that he'd forgotten how they must stand out to everyone else.
He felt his face grow warm. "Not exactly."
"But you wear the okibi." The man was not challenging him; he only sounded curious.
"Yeah . . . but I'm not a Capchetan."
The smithy nodded. "I suspected as much. A true Capchetan would have recognized his sword as being born of his soul. A true Capchetan would have recognized his own zanpakuto." He handed the weapon back to Ikkaku. "This weapon is a zanpakuto."
Ikkaku narrowed his eyes. "That can't be."
"I've forged a lot of zanpakuto, and I know one when I hold it. That is a zanpakuto. A zanpakuto can be born of his master's soul at any time, in this world or the world of the living. But it does not come into its own separate existence until it enters Soul Society. And even then, that existence is dependent upon the existence of its master." He paused. "How did you get this sword?"
Ikkaku looked away at a distant memory, one of a very few happy recollections from his life in the living world.
"Before you leave, I have something to give you."
The sun was setting outside the monastery's west gate. It reached across the clear May evening and found its way into Ikkaku's eyes as he stood with Hakama, both of them looking out over the landscape stretching away below them.
"You are seventeen now. A man by all accounts," the holy man went on. "When you leave here, you will make your own way. What you do will be your own choice. You are not going back to your father, unless by your own will. You can rise above your past. You may not be leaving as a Capchetan, but you are leaving as a man. And a man must stand on his own." He reached beneath his hanten and produced a sword. "This is for you."
Ikkaku was speechless and motionless.
"Take it," Hakama insisted.
Still, Ikkaku held back. "But . . . but that's your sword," he protested.
"No, it's not mine."
"But I've seen it—you've always kept it in your room."
"I took this from the battlefield, from a fallen comrade, back during the Mandosian Wars," Hakama explained. "It belonged to one of my dearest friends. I've kept it all these years as a tribute to his memory. But now I have met the man who should be its wielder."
"I—I can't take this," Ikkaku said, shaking his head. "If it belonged to your friend, you should keep it."
"Salim was a good man, and he would not want his cherished weapon to languish in the cell of a brother who already has a weapon. He was given the weapon from his captain in the Mayote Saber Guard. Before that, it belonged to a warrior from across the Himmock River. And before that, it was found among the dead in the Blood Fields after the battle of Shensook. Its ownership can be traced back at least three hundred years. No one knows when it was made or where, but it has survived intact for at least that long. Such a weapon deserves a worthy bearer. I can think of no one better." Hakama held out the weapon again. "Take it, Ikkaku."
Ikkaku reached out and took it in his hands. He drew it from its scabbard and gasped at its beauty, reflecting the red and orange light of the sunset. It was the beauty of power and strength. The beauty of endurance and lethality.
"Use it wisely."
Hakama's voice pulled Ikkaku's attention back to his teacher.
"Hakama-dono . . . I . . . I can only say thank you."
Hakama smiled gently. "You can only say thank you; that is true. But you can do much more. Go into the world and be a good man. Live a good life. Do not let the anger take hold of you. Life will not always give you want you desire. Man will always disappoint. Put your faith and trust in something greater. Use that sword with discretion and an appreciation for its history." He stepped back within the wall. "It is time for you to depart."
Ikkaku slid the weapon back into its scabbard and bowed. When he raised his head, his countenance was firm.
"I won't disappoint you, Hakama-dono. I'll be the man you want me to be."
How very short he had fallen of that promise.
In a quiet voice, he answered the man's question. "When I lived at the Capcehtan Monastery, my mentor gave it to me."
"Then he must have recognized that it was meant for you and you for it. How many years have you had it?"
"I don't know exactly. Fifty or sixty, maybe. It could be longer. I've lost track of how many years I've been in Soul Society." Ikkaku could not help but feel like a fool. A fool for not having recognized what Hakama had apparently known all those years ago in the world of the living. A fool for not knowing that which a complete stranger had been able to ascertain by mere touch.
"And in all that time, you've never heard its voice? It's never spoken to you?" the smithy asked.
"I heard a voice, but I thought it was my conscience. I didn't think it was a zanpakuto, although . . . "
"Although?"
"It told me it was a zanpakuto. I thought I was just jealous of a friend who had a zanpakuto. Could it really have been him speaking to me?"
"That's most likely the case." Seeing that his customer was ill at ease and at a loss, the smithy put a strong arm around his shoulders, which Ikkaku did not shrug off. "Can I give you a word of advice? What I felt in that weapon was immense power. Raw, destructive capability. You will either need someone to guide you into a relationship with your zanpakuto, or you will have to put forth all your effort in order to tame something so wild. I recommend the first option, since the second is a risky proposition."
Ikkaku was morose. "I don't know who I could ask."
"Someone with a lot of experience. Your captain, perhaps."
"Captain Zaraki doesn't even have a relationship with his zanpakuto," Ikkaku frowned. "He's the last person I could ask."
"Captain Ukitake, you have a visitor."
The captain of squad thirteen looked up to see his lieutenant, Kaien Shiba, standing in the doorway to the office. The second-in-command had his trademark half-smile, half-smirk on his face. He always looked like he knew something that no one else knew, like he was keeping a secret.
But of course, Juushiro Ukitake knew better. Shiba had no secrets, no special knowledge. The expression on his face was perpetual, and it was inviting. It explained why he was so popular with the lower ranks – and almost everyone he met.
"Who is it?" the captain asked.
"Uh, Fifth Seat Awa—awagayasa . . . awagasi? Something like that. From Squad Eleven," the lieutenant replied.
"Ayasegawa?" Ukitake inquired wryly.
"Yep, that's it!"
Captain Ukitake shook his head with a grin. "Next time, try to do a better job with the name."
"Hey, I got the rank and squad right!"
"Just send him in."
A moment later, Yumichika entered the office, and Lieutenant Shiba returned to his favorite passtime of playing "benzin balls" with the guards on duty.
"Ayasegawa-san, I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon. Please, come sit down," Captain Ukitake said as he came from behind the low desk and motioned to a sitting area adjacent to one of the windows. "What brings you here?"
Yumichika was once again struck by the beauty of the squad thirteen captain, but he recalled his business to mind. "I'm here to ask your help with my zanpakuto."
Captain Ukitake was surprised at this request. "Your zanpakuto? What kind of help do you need?"
"I want to learn jinzen, but I don't have anyone to teach me," Yumichika replied.
Again, Ukitake was stunned by this revelation. "You don't know jinzen? But then how have you been able to communicate with your zanpakuto? Do—do you have shikai? I'm assuming you do, since all seated officers have to possess shikai, and the only way to do that is through communication with your zanpakuto."
"I have shikai," Yumichika stated. "But I've never used jinzen to communicate with Fuji Kujaku. I've—I've been able to talk to him for over twenty years, long before I came to the Seireitei. I didn't know who he was – or what he was. He would come – his voice would come to me in my sleep and then he took on a body . . . I think—I think I did it all backwards, and now . . . we don't have a very good relationship."
"What do you mean?" Captain Ukitake prompted.
"We, uh . . . we argue a lot. He doesn't trust me, and . . . he's so powerful I'm afraid he . . . if I don't learn the right way to approach him, he might . . . he could get out of hand," Yumichika stammered.
The handsome man sitting across from him smiled knowingly. "At the time you started hearing his voice, you didn't know what he was, that there was a certain way to go about communicating with him; and by the time you found out, it was too late. Is that the case?"
"Yes—well, but I'm hoping it's not too late."
"I can teach you jinzen," the captain confirmed, "But I can't guarantee that it will be very effective. Or perhaps it will be effective in controlling your zanpakuto, but it may not improve your relationship. Your zanpakuto – Fuji Kujaku, is it? Your zanpakuto is already used to dealing with you in a certain way. He might rebel if you try to change things."
"I'm willing to take that risk," Yumichika replied. "I . . . I can't go on worrying all the time that he's going to . . . that he's going to . . . "
"Going to what?"
Yumichika shifted uncomfortably. "He's got some powers that I just don't want others to know about."
The captain's reply stunned Yumichika. "I can imagine."
"Why do you say that, Captain Ukitake?"
The knowing smile was still in place. "You do a very good job of suppressing your reiatsu. An amazing job. One of the best I've ever encountered." He inclined his head to one side. "But I'm very good at detecting reiatsu. And I can feel yours like a tidal wave."
Yumichika's cheek flushed red. He averted his gaze.
"I take it, from your reaction, that you know what your reiatsu feels like to others," Ukitake went on. "And since your zanpakuto is born of your soul, I would imagine that Fuji Kujaku's reiatsu is nearly impossible to resist."
"He is . . . he . . . I have to work hard to keep him in line, and sometimes I—I have to . . . I just don't want things to get any worse between us," Yumichika concluded miserably.
Ukitake nodded his understanding. "One of the hardest things for a Shinigami to do is gain submission from his zanpakuto, and I would guess that with a name like Fuji Kujaku, your zanpakuto is very proud and not likely to submit."
"Well, he does submit, but . . . he's not happy about it. He only submits because he's afraid I'll trap him inside and . . . " His voice fell off.
"Trap him inside? What do you mean by that?" a look of quandary pierced the captain's easy demeanor.
Yumichika realized he had revealed more than he'd intended, but he saw no reason to back away from it. He knew he was speaking to one of the most powerful captains in the Gotei 13, and he was not being rebuffed or discounted as a lowly fifth seat.
"Fuji Kujaku has the ability to manifest in spirit form here in the outside world," he admitted.
Ukitake's eyebrows went up. "That—that is quite an ability."
"Yes . . . and I don't want him to do it," Yumichika stated.
"Why not?"
Yumichika could not admit the true reason: fear that the kujaku would reveal his kido nature. He had to find a reasonable falsehood that didn't stretch too far.
"Because it's not what a zanpakuto should do," he weaved. "I mean, I don't see other zanpakuto spirits walking around—"
"Most other zanpakuto spirits don't want to come out and have to be forced to do so," Ukitake pointed out. "And that usually doesn't take place until a Shinigami is ready to learn bankai."
"I'm nowhere near ready for bankai," Yumichika said. "And at the rate things are going, it may never be a possibility."
"You said you trap him inside," Captain Ukitake resumed. "How do you do that?"
"I'm not really sure," Yumichika replied. "I've only done it twice, and both times were spur of the moment, strong emotional outbursts. He was threatening to come out, and I was angry and afraid, so I . . . I ordered him not to and . . . he ends up trapped insdie."
Juushiro Ukitake was a wise judge of character, and he knew he was not hearing the whole truth. He also knew that whatever Fifth Seat Ayasegawa was withholding, it would be best not to pursue it.
"I would imagine it's very hard for a proud creature to practice perfect obedience," he ventured.
Yumichika gave a vocal sigh. "I just don't want him to seduce everyone he comes in contact with."
"Is that what he wants to do? Is that why he wants to come outside?"
"I don't know," Yumichika moaned. "But I—I can't risk making him too angry, because I also—I depend on him to suppress my own reiatsu."
This statement puzzled the squad thirteen captain. "He suppresses your reiatsu."
"Not so much anymore, but when I was learning . . . when he first came into being, my own reiatsu started increasing to the point where I couldn't control it. He had to help me. Eventually, I learned to suppress it pretty well, and . . . to be honest, I think it hasn't increased at all ever since Fuji Kujaku and I started having problems. I don't need him to help me with hiding my reiatsu right now, but I'll need him if it starts to grow again."
"And you hope that learning jinzen will help with these problems?"
"Yes, that's my hope. I know you're one of the most powerful captains in the Gotei Thirteen, and everyone says you've got a lot of wisdom and have one of the best relationships with your own zanpakuto," Yumichika explained. "That's why I came to you for help."
"I can teach you jinzen," Captain Ukitake nodded. "But there are no promises as to whether it will help or not. You and Fuji Kujaku have already established a long-standing relationship. It may be too late to change the way you choose to communicate with him." A pause. "We can start tomorrow. I think Eleventh Squad is in garrison this week, right? You just gave off patrol a few days ago. So, come in the evenings after you get off-duty. Meet me here, and we'll see what can be done."
Yumichika stood up excitedly. "Thank you, Captain Ukitake. Thank you very much."
"Well, I'm sure you can find someone else to teach you," the smithy said. "The Gotei 13 is full of officers who have good relations with their zanpakuto. I'm sure you could find a lieutenant or other seated officer to help you."
"I guess," Ikkaku said listlessly.
The smithy gave a cheeky grin. "Are you a seated officer?"
"Third Seat."
"In Captain Zaraki's squad?" He sounded incredulous, but then apparently thought better. "Well, that makes sense, actually. Zaraki's not known for having any kind of positive relationship with his zanpakuto. I hear he doesn't even know its name."
"Yeah."
At that moment, Ikkaku felt the arrival of familiar reiatsu. He turned as Yumichika appeared in the doorway, but he was surprised when Yumichika looked right past him with wide eyes.
"Mendalo?"
The smithy was motionless for a moment, then broke from where he stood and crossed the room in a few animated strides.
"Yumichika?"
Yumichika response of laughter brought them together in a warm embrace. One that lasted a little too long for Ikkaku's comfort.
As they drew apart, the smithy, Mendalo, held Yumichika at arm's length. "What is this? You're a Shinigami?"
"As you see."
"This is unbelievable. I never would have pegged you to become a . . . " Mendalo's voice drifted off as a realization struck him. He gestured towards Ikkaku. "This is your friend, am I right?"
Yumichika was beaming. "Mendalo, meet Ikkaku Madarame. Ikkaku, remember I told you a swordsmith told me where to find Zaraki? This is him. This is Mendalo."
Ikkaku hesitated a moment before nodding curtly. "I, uh, I guess I owe you a lot of thanks."
"Well, if I had known Yumichika was going to end up taking on a warrior's life, I might have decided to withhold the truth," Mendalo quipped. "I just can't believe it! So, you found Captain Zaraki and even made it into the Gotei 13."
"Even into Squad Eleven," Yumichika replied. "We're both in Zaraki's squad."
Mendalo's rich laughter filled the small room. "That's even more amazing." He looked into the violet eyes and memories of the most satisfying night of his life came flooding back into his mind. "This is too good to be true. I never thought I would run into you again."
Yumichika returned the stare, his own recollections of that night swelling up in tingling excitement. In a moment of audacity, he let go a brief, small burst of his reiatsu.
Mendalo felt it.
Ikkaku also felt it.
It ignited a spark of jealousy in his heart, and yet, he knew he should not be jealous. Mendalo was, after all, the one who had provided the information to lead him to Zaraki. And Yumichika was the one who procured the information and been good enough to pass it on to Ikkaku instead of withholding it. Both of them had done him a good turn; and if they were happy to see each other, why not?
If Yumichika felt like showing off some little bit of his seductive ability, why not? He had to find some small indulgence, given the austerity and contrariness of the life he was living as a Shinigami.
Yet, for some reason, Ikkaku had the odd sense that something had just been communicated between the two men – a sort of anticipatory promise.
And no matter how much he tried to convince himself that it was no big deal . . .
It was.