Sirènes
Hisagi stepped out into the back lot behind the Urahara shop, stretching in his new gigai.He absolutely hated getting in these things for the first time; they were always so stiff.Yumichika soon followed him out of the shop, prancing slightly in his own fake body as he exited into the lot.
The afternoon sun was beating down hotly on the duo, eliciting a small groan from the shinigami captain. He only hoped that things would go smoothly from here on out; Hisagi wanted this threat to be destroyed as quickly as possible. He was, after all, enjoying the peaceful era that Soul Society was currently in. And he wanted to return back to it as soon as possible.
Hisagi Shuuhei felt as though he'd seen enough turmoil for one lifetime.
"I always forget how nice it is in the transient world," Yumichika said in his usual blithe manner. "Karakura is such a beautiful city."
"Yeah, if you like things hot and smoggy," Hisagi quipped back, running a hand along the back of his neck. He grunted as he pulled his arm away; he could already feel the sweat beginning to form on his skin.
"At least it's better than Hueco Mundo. I wouldn't go back there in a million years."
"You never even went there in the first place," Hisagi said, whipping his head around to look at his companion.
"I know, but I've imagined how terrible it is," came the casual reply, the lieutenant looking merrily up at the clear blue sky. "No sunlight? How ugly."
Hisagi shook his head and chuckled. "What's with you all of the sudden?"
"Can't you feel it?" Yumichika asked as he looked away from the atmosphere, his eyes taking on a gleeful look. "Something's gonna happen— and soon. The Espada have to know we're here; it's why they left that Quincy alive. To provoke us. And I've been so bored with all the paperwork back home. I've been itching for a good fight for almost a decade, now."
Hisagi laughed, his head also tilting up to gaze at the skies above. It was so easy for him to forget that Yumichika was as battle-crazed as his captain. Even if he hid it well behind his feminine exterior, which hedid,Ayasegawa Yumichika was still the lieutenant of the eleventh division. That was not a title one could hold without an extreme lust for fighting.
The door behind them slid open and the rest of the team walked into the lot, followed by Urahara Kisuke.
Ulquiorra had refused to wear a gigai,claiming that he had no desire to look like a human forthe sake of humans. Ichigo had argued against the pale Arrancar for only a minute before giving up. Ichigo's style of debating was always to yell loudly. No matter what the cause, the orange-haired captain would simply raise his voice and hope that his opponents would change their minds. Ulquiorra had never been one to succumb to such tactics.
Hisagi hadn't really seen much of a difference. It wasn't like any normal humans could see the Arrancar, anyway.
"Aside from poor Uryuu," Urahara said in a sing-songy voice, "I haven't seen any other Arrancar."
"Any other odd hollow behavior?" Ichigo asked his old mentor, continuing their conversation.
"Other than an overall increase," the former exile said, pushing his green and white bucket hat further down on his head, "I would have to say no."
"Have they gotten any stronger?" Yumichika asked from the edge of the concrete deck. "Or just more numerous?"
"Just more numerous. Jeez," the scientist sighed. "Didn't Hirako tell you guys about this stuff before you all came here?"
A small red object suddenly smacked Urahara in the back of the head, knocking his recently repositioned hat onto the ground. A short and angry blonde girl traipsed out into the summer heat, her face turned up in a sneer.
"Don't ask them stupid questions, dummy," Hiyori hollered out at her former captain. "You know Shinji didn't tell anyone shit. He's too lazy to go into detail."
"I'm not being lazy!" Shinji called as he followed his fellow Vizard out into the afternoon sunlight. "It's enigmatic! Enigmatic!"
"Ah, Hiyori, Shinji," Urahara responded merrily, bending down and scooping up the fallen hat without missing a beat. "You've arrived."
"Of course we've arrived, you stinkin' moron! You asked us to get here in the afternoon, didn't ya?"
"I said sometime after noon," Urahara replied with a pleasant grin, pointing his index finger upwards. "It's almost dinner time now."
Hisagi rolled his eyes and turned away from the budding argument. He had no desire to watch some ill-timed display of comedic relief. Despite Hirako Shinji's ominous entrance into Soul Society a few days ago, he had done nothing but prove himself to be a clown since the mission had begun. Shuuhei had no doubt concerning the Vizard's abilities, though. Shinji had once been a very powerful captain, and now he was a Vizard. If Ichigo's strength was at all indicative of the power-boost a Shinigami received after the hollowfication process, Hirako Shinji was indeed a force to be reckoned with.
But he was still acting like a clown.
Hisagi looked over at the members of his squad, seeing that they were also ready to become removed from their current situation. Yumichika was even looking away from the trio of jesters, his arms crossed and one side of his lips curved up in scorn.
"Ichigo," Hisagi said sternly, taking up his role as leader. "Go talk to your father and sisters. See if they've noticed anything strange."
"Right," Ichigo said with a small frown. "Although I'm not sure how happy they'll be to see me after all this time." With that, the orange-headed Shinigami turned and walked away, casting a brief and suspicious glance over his shoulder as he went.
He also dodged a low kick from the still-yelling Vizard girl.
"You two should—"
"Check out the town for fishy behavior," Yumichika said quickly as he began to follow Ichigo out the door. "Got it."
"Wait, Yumi…" Hisagi stuttered in an attempt to get the lieutenant to return, but it was in vain. Ayasegawa Yumichika seemed to have his own mission in mind, and Hell itself wasn't going to stop him. Hisagi simply rolled his eyes indifferently. He wasn't worried about his friend's aloof behavior; he knew that Yumichika would be the first one to front lines if anything happened.
Hisagi turned to Ulquiorra, but the Arrancar had already vanished from sight. Ulquiorra Schiffer was never much one for one-on-one time anyway. Hisagi shrugged and took his leave. The first division's lieutenant would be ready to fight when the time came. There was no need to worry about him until he was needed.
As the captain of the ninth division stepped out into the busy streets of Karakura Town, he let himself vanish into the crowds, his mind idly searching for the presence of the Espada.
"Thank you for inviting me to tea," Kyoraku Shunsui said with a vibrant smile, his cheeks pushing up and closing his eyes, "Retsu."
"Shouldn't you address me more formally, Kyoraku?" She asked with a warm smile, placing her small cup down on the table in front of her. "I am the Captain-commander, after all."
Shunsui simply responded with a small chuckle. He knew that Retsu should know better. Even when she had been his captain all those years ago, he never referred to her by anything other than her given name. He always felt that Unohana was far too soft of a name for his old sempai.Retsu sounded far more deadly, and therefore, far more befitting for her.
The two oldest captains in Soul Society sat across from one another outside in the first division's gardens, bathed in the deep orange of the setting sun. In the fading light, Unohana's flowers looked magnificent; no other house in all of Soul Society could boast about owning a more glorious patch of earth. Those stuck-up Kuchiki nobles included. The lavender of the saffron melded perfectly with the pink roses and yellow marigolds. Even the permanent scarring from the battle with Aizen looked splendid, the craters and cavities augmented with purple heather shrubs and red poppy blooms.
In this wonderful sunset, it was nothing short of spectacular.
Shunsui sipped at his tea, enjoying the lack of an alcoholic bite in the liquid. Every now and again, the ponytailed captain enjoyed a quiet afternoon without being intoxicated. The invitation from the captain commander had come at just the right moment. He'd finished signing what little paperwork Nanao had allowed him to do, and was about to join Ikkaku at the nearest sake bar when the hell butterfly had fluttered into his window. Being that it had been a while since he'd sat down and talked with his old friend, he had to beg off the sake invite.
Not to imply that Kyoraku wouldn't be joining the eleventh division captain later, of course.
But as the two of them sat and drank their tea, Kyoraku could tell something was amiss with the woman across the table. While her face was wearing its constant smile, she hadn't said much since he'd sat down. In fact, she seemed more interested in her sun-drenched garden than in him. Considering that she'd invited him all the way from the eighth division, he found it a little odd that she'd spent the majority of her time looking off into the flowers.
"Shunsui," she said suddenly and quietly, her mouth barely moving as she looked out into the sunset. "Do you think I've made a mistake?"
"Eh?" he sighed questioningly, lowering the tea cup in the middle of a sip. "In what? The Vizards?"
"Yes."
"I don't think so," Kyoraku said with a smile. "Despite the time that has passed, you have to remember that we knowall of them. Hirako, Muguruma, Love… they were once our peers. If we can't trust them, who can we trust?"
"I don't think that the whole of Seireitei shares in that opinion," she said quietly, almost absent mindedly.
"The whole of Soul Society should not question your decisions, Captain," he said sternly, trying to get some sort of reaction out of her. When she simply allowed his words to fly away, his smile faded completely with realization.
"But it's not really about that, is it?" he asked quietly. "It's not about them. It's about him."
Her eyes glanced over at him quickly; he barely noticed the deep blue irises flicker away from the gardens to briefly focus on him. But as soon as her eyes had touched their corners did they stare forward again, sitting calmly upon the flowers.
"Do you miss him, Retsu?" he asked softly, as if he feared her response.
She stood quickly and walked to the edge of the wooden patio on which they had been sitting. She stared out blankly for a moment before turning to look at him, the emotions obvious in her eyes.
"Do you miss Juushiro?" she asked, almost mockingly, almost painfully.
"That's completely different," he replied hotly. Despite his sudden anger, Shunsui calmly placed his teacup down and stood. "Juushiro was never my lover." He turned and walked away, despite knowing that Unohana hadn't meant the cruel words. He had no desire to get wrapped up in an emotional argument with one of his only true friends.
"And I never forced Juushiro to get banished," Kyoraku Shunsui said coldly as he turned the corner, his anger getting the best of him. "I didn't betray my friend."
Unohana made no reply. She just continued to look out into the sunset.
Yumichika walked briskly around Karakura Town, enjoying a great many things about this mission. The change of scenery was wonderful, as was the warm weather. Soul Society had begun to get colder over the past week or so, and Yumichika was getting tired of it. He had always been a fan of warmer weather, and Karakura's seasons were just a tad behind Seireitei's.
But above all else, his gigai allowed him to wear western clothes again. The artificial body he was currently occupying was wearing a lavender t-shirt under a grey pinstriped sports coat and dark blue denim jeans. A pair of white and green tennis shoes adorned his feet, and a white watch hung on his wrist.
Yeah, he looked fuckin' good.
Yumichika hadn't really discovered the pleasure of western fashion until he'd visited the material world for the first time. During one of the days when he hadn't been fighting the Arrancar, Matsumoto Rangiku had brought him along on one of her shopping adventures. He had had a wonderful time, to say the least. He'd never known how wonderfulof a color purple was on him until that day.
As he walked by those same outlet stores, he felt a small pang of sorrow wash over him.
He really did miss Matsumoto. She had been one of his favorite drinking buddies, and a good friend. Even after all of these years, her absence still rang painfully apparent when he was out at a bar. Every time a silence descended upon their small group, the memories of Rangiku and Tetsuzaemon would come roaring back. And from the looks that would cross his companion's faces, he could see that he was never alone.
His melancholy thoughts soon vanished as he stepped into the crowded square. If his intel was to be believed, there was a university nearby. And where there was a college, there were college girls.
Ayasegawa Yumichika, lieutenant of the eleventh division and hallowed hero of the Winter War, needed to get laid.
As he entered the plaza of shops and arcades, the looks the girls began to give him only served to further fuel his desires. Every girl he passed shot him a look of interest, and he was enjoying the ego-boosting. While he wasn't usually this lecherous, his usual booty-call had been putting the brakes on him lately.
Kuchiki Rukia had totally shut him down the night before.
For the past twenty-five years, he and the lieutenant of the fifth division would periodically meet up and sexually maul each other. For the life of him, Yumichika couldn't figure out what it was about the girl that kept her coming back to him every other week. What had started as a one-time instance had turned into a system akin to clockwork. Either she would spend all day doing Renji's paperwork and need to blow off some steam, or he would get too drunk with Ikkaku. That was all it would take to bring one of them to the other's door in a lustful stupor.
Except for the other night. In fact, the past few weeks had been rather sexless for Yumichika. And he was getting tired of it. Rukia's periodic sex sessions had done wonders for Yumichika's sexual identity. He'd gotten laid a few times when he was back in Rukongai, but not very often. He had been too wrapped up in following Ikkaku around and rustling up sparring matches to worry about his othermanly needs. Until Kuchiki Rukia had come along, he'd never realized how much he enjoyedsex.
Or how many different ways he enjoyed sex.
He stepped into a darkened bar, a cloud of cigarette smoke smothering him as he walked up to the bartender. He noticed with a feigned disinterest the number of girls whose eyes were on him. The number was increasing by the second, much to the displeasure of the men in the bar. Yumichika walked away from the bar with a glass of whiskey and a chuckle. As a member of the eleventh division, he liked competition, no matter what form it took.
Five whiskeys and an hour later, he found himself surrounded by it.
Yumichika was bordered by four collegiate-looking young men, each one wearing a polo shirt and a frustrated scowl. When the undercover Shinigami had first put twenty dollars down on the green felt of a nearby pool table, he'd had no idea that the men there would continue to bet against him as much as they did. It wasn't hisfault that they weren't nearly as skilled at the game as he was. It wasn't hisfault that they were now five-hundred dollars in debt.
It probably washis fault that the girls they'd been with had stopped paying attention to them, though.
"Well, boys," Yumichika said, arrogantly brushing his dark hair behind his ears. "I would recommend paying up before we go any further. I would hate to embarrass you any more than I already have; not having enough money would just be icing on your ugly cake."
And it was definitely his fault that the first punch was thrown.
Yumichika deftly dodged the awkward blow, the effects of his alcohol vanishing in his joy at fighting. He shot out a quick and powerful jab, landing the blow in the man's belly. His opponent was sent flying against a nearby table, overturning it and spilling drinks on the floor.
Two of his buddies rushed at Yumichika, but the lean Shinigami quickly sent his foot into the knee of one of them, sending the young man to the ground in pain. Yumichika launched himself off of the guy's leg and into the air, spinning around backwards to plant the heel of the same foot into the second man's jaw, and following through with his hooked leg to kick over the first man who had gotten back up.
The fourth of his opponents had grabbed a pool cue and slung it at him from behind, hoping to hit Yumichika in the back with the object. The Shinigami deftly reached his hand out, snatching the long stick out of the air. He turned towards his opponent, the whole bar having since given the strange fighter a wide berth. Yumichika hefted the pool cue in his hand and smirked as he noted the weight was about equal to his zanpakuto.
"You shouldn't have given this to me…" Yumichika said calmly as more men began to surround him, each wanting a piece of the pretty-boy that had claimed the attention of every girl in the bar. "That was a very bad idea."
Ichigo sighed as he reached his father's house, the sun setting as he walked up to the door. He had really let himself take his time getting here; it wasn't even five o' clock when he'd left Urahara's, and now the evening was very much coming to a close
But then again, he'd been hesitant to come here, anyway.
He had no idea how his family was going to react to him being there; he hadn't spoken to any of them in over five years. He wouldn't be surprised if they just simply closed the door in his face. But they were still his family, so he might as well try. It wasn't very often that he was in the real world; it would be a wasted opportu—
A pair of feet rammed into the back of his head, sending his face into the door.
"What the fuck?" the orange-headed captain yelled out as blood began to drip from his hairline.
"Ichigo!" an angry voice called out behind him, belonging to none other than Kurosaki Isshin. "You think some no-good son of mine is going to simply waltz through myfront door after ten years of absence?"
"It was only five years, you crazy old man! Five!" Ichigo stood and turned to face his father. "And how are you going to just kick your son like that?"
"Kick you like that?" Isshin yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at his son. "Like I'm going to kick you like this!"
Isshin threw out his foot once more, his leg reaching rather high for a man in his sixties. Ichigo ducked the kick and planted an uppercut into his father's chin. The older Kurosaki flew upwards and back, landing solidly on his ass a few feet away. Isshin immediately grabbed at his tailbone and began writhing around on the floor, dramatically yelling out in pain.
"Ah! I think I broke a hip! Help me up, my son!"
"Now you want my help?" Ichigo asked incredulously, walking over to help his father up from the ground. "So you're too old to get up, but young enough to throw a kick? How does that work?"
"It was a trick!" Isshin yelled out, swinging his feet out to trip Ichigo. The younger of the two men leapt up, allowing the leg swipe to fly harmlessly under his feet. As he came down, he planted a knee into his father's stomach. The wind was knocked out of the older man and Ichigo stood up, brushing the dirt off of his knees.
"Help yourself up, you idiot!" Ichigo yelled and turned toward the house.
"You saw… through my trap…" Isshin wheezed up from his spot on the ground. "You truly are… my son."
Ichigo continued to ignore his dad as he reached out for the door handle, but was shocked when it opened on its own. He looked up in surprise to see the smiling face of his younger sister, Yuzu. Her grin was wide as she greeted him, a soup ladle in her hand as always.
"Ichigo," she said warmly, wrapping her arms around him. "It's so nice to see you again."
"Hey Yuzu," Ichigo responded. He was a little confused; they weren't mad at him? "How did you know I was coming?"
"'Cuz we felt your reiatsuthis morning, dummy," Karin said as she came around the corner and embraced him. "That idiot out there has been waiting outside to booby-trap you all day."
"And I got him, too!" Isshin yelled up from the sidewalk.
"Shut up, you stupid dad!"
Ichigo smiled as he walked inside, the smell of Yuzu's cooking wafting through the house. He kicked his shoes off and walked into the kitchen, sliding through the rooms as though he'd never left. Everything made him smile; the small table where they would eat dinner, the ridiculously large picture of his mother hanging above the living room, the dents in the walls from his sparring matches with his father.
It felt good to be home.
Ulquiorra floated in the night air outside of the Ishida residence, watching the woman inside make dinner for her two daughters. She still looked the same; her hair was shorter and had a few strands of grey in it, and her face had gained its share of laugh lines. But to his eyes, she looked the same.
Ishida Orihime still looked young and vibrant, even after all these years.
Whatever the two of them had been together had ended twenty years ago. It had been foolish for both of them to have believed anything differently was going to come from their pairing. She was still alive, growing older as every second passed by. He was an eternally damned soul, given a fake sense of salvation in his duties to Soul Society.
Failure had always been their destiny.
He'd been the one to tell her first. He knew that it wasn't fair to leave her waiting and waiting for him; every day that he wasn't around was heartbreaking for her. He knew it. And even if she never would have admitted it, she knew it too. It was completely irrational to believe that she would truly be happy as a woman betrothed to a spectre. No matter how much she'd argued against him, no matter how much she'd wept and cried that she didn't care about such matters, he'd simply placed his steely features against her pleas.
It may have looked cold to her, but it was his only way of staying strong.
Orihime's tears had always been his weak point. Even when she was his prisoner in Hueco Mundo, her frequent sobbing would crack the ice that had so defined him for all eternity. He never knew why. At first he'd assumed that it was simply perplexing. How could someone cry as much as this woman?But it soon evolved beyond curiosity. When his thoughts had stopped asking why is she crying,they would always be replaced with how can I make her tears stop?For five years, Ulquiorra had fought with all his strength to stop Orihime's tears from falling.
And in the end, he was helpless against the torrent.
"Ulquiorra?"
He froze in his spot in the air. Orihime had been taking out some trash when she'd noticed him. He looked down and regarded her coldly for a moment, deciding whether or not to simply vanish, before he lowered himself to the ground. Her brow was tight as she looked at him, her eyes no longer holding the familiar shimmering of tears.
"What are you doing here?" He voice carried no gleam of its normal kindness. It was a cold timbre that enveloped her words, a sound he'd never heard from her voice before.
Ulquiorra stood silently for a moment longer. He hadn't intended for him to be seen and was unprepared for her line of questioning. He was momentarily at a loss for words as she glared at him. He struggled for a response.
"I was sent on a mission," he said calmly, his voice doing little to betray his distraught emotions.
"I don't care about that," she said sternly, placing the trash into the tin can that was against the wall of her house. "I mean what are you doing here?"
Ulquiorra sighed lightly. He shouldn't have expected much else from her. He hadn't spoken to her in twenty years, and there was a reason for that. When he'd finally convinced her that they were impossible together, that their relationship was a charade, she had told him that she never wanted to see him again. Her words that day had been very timid and very quiet, but venomous all the same.
"I came to inform you that your husband's injuries are merely superficial," Ulquiorra said monotonously, lying through his teeth. "Ishida Uryuu will be returning after our mission has been completed."
A look of relief washed over her features, sending a small wave on envy through Ulquiorra's body. Deep down, he'd always hoped that she'd been unhappy in her marriage. But as soon as her look of joy had appeared did it vanish, replaced by an icy glare. She looked at him harshly for a few seconds before she turned and walked back to her home, casting a swift glance over her shoulder.
"Goodbye, Ulquiorra."
She closed the door, Ulquiorra hearing a pair of locks being turned in the darkness. She knew that he could open the door if he wanted to, locks or no locks. She was simply sending a message to him: go away.
Failure had always been their destiny.
Ulquiorra floated back into the sky, walking upon the air silently, his hands in his pockets. As he neared the roof of the neighboring house, he looked down, noticing a figure crouched in the shadows of the house's chimney.
"Can I help you," he said coldly, "Captain Kurosaki?"
"No," Ichigo said, not taking his eyes off of Ishida Orihime's house. "Just keeping a promise."
"I see."
Ulquiorra Schiffer continued to walk away from his old rival, but stopped dead when he heard it. His head snapped back over his shoulder, seeing that Ichigo had leapt up from his spot and was heading towards the sound. To the ears of hollow-hybrids like them, the ripping sound of an opening garganta was as clear as a cathedral bell.
The Espada had arrived.
author's note
sorry all my ulquihime fans. logic had to prevail. :(
oh and speaking of ulquiorra, (spoiler)HOLY SHIT. (/spoiler)
after byakuya bashed him last chapter, i figured i'd let shunsui come back and reclaim some of his dignity.
and zomg, kurosaki isshinfor the mother-fucking WIN.(yeah, i spelled it out and underlined it.) that whole family is a blast to write for; i recommend giving it a shot.
i dressed yumichika up in what i wore today, lol. and i love whisky and i can make lots of money playing pool. basically, i = yumichika. (actually, my shirt was dark purple, not lavender. W/E) oh anddelmarch, you know that yumichika part was TOTALLY for you.
sorrylibello,no grimm/soi this chapter. they'll be back next one, i swear.
reviewsmake me really happy. please give em to me?
jta.
sirènes - claude debussy
