Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the following work. All recognizable anime characters belong to Tite Kubo. All others characters are adapted from a diverse spread of cultural and mythological lore. I am making no profit from this story.

Author's Note 1: My deepest apologies on the lateness of this chapter. In the last month and a half, I've been on two road trips, two domestic plane trips, and two sets of international flights. As a result, this chapter has been written little-bits at a time, in bus stations, train depots, and airports, when I had over-night layovers and couldn't sleep because I had nowhere to put my valuables, etc. Finally, finally it's finished, and I'm very happy to share it with you at long last!

Also, there's lots of cursing in this chapter. You have been warned.

Chapter 7: Hammer of the Gods

Hammer of the Gods,

We'll drive our ships to new lands

To fight the hordes, singing and crying:

"Valhalla I am coming!"

-The Immigrant Song

by Led Zepplin

Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Asgard

For a person who hated riding horses as much as Renji did, it took an interminable amount of time to cross the shimmery colors of the bridge and finally step through the misty curtain that hid Asgard* from sight. And if the sharpening clarity of the landscape hadn't announced their arrival, the sudden drop in temperature certainly would have. Renji felt his skin prickle into goose bumps, but mastered the urge to rub his arms. Don't want the natives to think I can't take the cold.

Though the god on guard—Heimdall, Captain Kuchiki had called him—was obscured from his sight until the very last of the mist was cleared, Renji wasn't surprised in the least to see him standing just to the right of their entry point; he had felt the steady increase of spirit pressure against his temples all the way down the bridge, until the air felt thicker than water. What he was not expecting was for the man to be so very tall. Sitting high in the saddle, Renji barely reached the level of Heimdall's shoulders. Though he longed to be off is horse, he had no desire to stand next to the man without the mount. Feeling dwarfed was something Renji had left behind with childhood.

For his part, Heimdall nodded to them as they passed by, but did not shift his gaze or speak. Renji chose not to be offended. After all, letting gods from other pantheons pass into your territory unchallenged could hardly be considered ignoring them. Obviously he was expecting us. Still, the lack of a more formal greeting was a bit disconcerting.

When the horses had taken them about 20 yards past the guard, a deep voice from somewhere to their left boomed in halting Japanese. "Pardon…Heimdall. He…must watch…more now. With the…events."

This man was tall as well, but not nearly as enormous as Heimdall. He's probably about my height, if I were to stand on the ground. Are they all this huge? Dark blonde hair fell in waves from beneath a steel helm that obscured the top half of his face. A dark fur cloak hung from wide shoulders over a rough-spun tunic. Even in the biting cold, his arms were bare. If this bothered him he did not show it.

With no horse in sight, he walked towards Captain Kuchiki's mount carrying heavy-looking saddle bags and speaking a steady flow of words in a rough, guttural-sounding language. Old Norse, thought Renji as Kuchiki responded in kind. Though he had learned smatterings of many languages at the Shinigami Academy, Old Norse being one of them, he couldn't follow any of what was passed between the two men. Even without understanding it, Renji was transfixed by the conversation. Listening to the Captain speak this language is surreal. He seemed fluent, but its roughness was at odds with the elegance he seemed to display at the core of his being. It was like watching a dog walk on its hind legs. Except the dog doesn't look ridiculous because it has more dignity than you, and knows it. Captain Komamura suddenly came to mind, and Renji decided to give up on the entire line of thought.

As he watched, Kuchiki gestured in his direction, and he could hear his name within the stream of words. The man stepped around Byakuya's horse and to Renji's side. "Is…an honor…to…meechu, Abarai. I called Tyr."* Instead of bowing, he stuck out his hand. His left hand, which made Renji hurriedly withdraw the right hand he'd been reaching forward and exchange it for its pair. His wrist was grasped in a grip so strong that Renji imagined the man must crush rocks in his fist for fun on the weekends.

He didn't remember much Old Norse, but he thought he could manage to return the greeting. It is an honor to meet you as well.

Tyr released his wrist and laughed loudly, from deep in his gut. Over his shoulder, he rattled off a few sentences at Kuchiki, none of which Renji could decipher. He might have imagined it, but the corner of the Captain's mouth seem to twitch up into something like a smile. A smirk, at least. It looks kind of weird on his face. Kuchiki made a brief reply, equally incomprehensible, and Tyr reached down to open the saddle bags he had dropped on the ground when he had greeted them.

It was at this moment that Renji realized the man had no right hand. Where his right wrist should have ended in a palm and the associated fingers was a stump wound tightly in leather straps, which he was using to prop the bags open while he rummaged inside. I guess that's why he stuck out the left one earlier. At least he's probably used to people awkwardly shaking his hand.

While Tyr dug in the bags, Kuchiki turned to him and said, "You just informed him that you also thought it was a good night to hunt meat. Though he understood your intent, he agreed with your statement on principle, and said that if you are ever again in Asgard, he would be pleased to take you wolf hunting. It seems he has a history with them." He looked pointedly at the leather-bound stump. "Regardless, I told him that now, unfortunately, is not the ideal time for my Lieutenant to be devoured by wolves."

Renji grimaced—both for the comment and his poor lingual skills. "Couldn't agree more."

The god pulled a thick fur cloak from the bag and handed it up to Kuchiki, who immediately swung it over his shoulders in one graceful sweep. He tossed a second to Renji. With all the giants they have here, at least I know it will fit. He swung it on and was gratified to see that if anything, it was a little big. The bite of the cold northern wind was immediately replaced with an enveloping warmth. "Wolf skins?" he asked, only half joking.

Tyr shook his head, amused. "Bear." He put his one good hand up as if mimicking the forepaw of a rearing bear. "I kill." Renji looked down at the cloak, which he could now clearly see was made from one enormous animal. I'll have to remember to pass on that invitation to go hunting.

The god passed a few more things to Kuchiki, including a new water skin—His is empty already?—which he traded for the old, and a small wooden box, which the two men seemed to be having a very serious discussion about. When they were finished, Tyr shouldered the bags and pointed in the direction of some rising foothills in the distance. He couldn't make out much of their exchange, but he definitely heard the word "Valhalla."

His directions given, the god raised his hand in farewell. "Fight…bravely, Kuchiki, Abarai." As he strode off the way he had come from, their horses turned themselves in the direction he had pointed and started for the foothills.

Odd that he didn't accompany us. "What was that all about?"

Kuchiki sent him a look that might have been a glare. "Tyr is the warrior god among these warrior gods. He was sent to welcome us to their realm."

"I caught that. But…is it really okay for us not to have an escort?"

"Do not equate the customs of our culture with another. Escorting us would have suggested a deficiency on our part—either that we are incapable of following his directions to reach it on or own, or that we are particularly untrustworthy and must be supervised within their realm. Allowing us to travel the short distance of our own accord, at our own pace, is considered a great honor."

Renji tried to follow that thread of logic, but ended up with it tied in a knot. I get that the "proud warrior people" letting us roam around unchallenged shows some confidence in us. But doesn't it also show a disdain for our abilities? Like, we couldn't be a threat if we tried? His suspicion that much more was going on here than Kuchiki let on was growing.

His brows drew together as the Captain uncorked the new skin and took a drink. Why is he so thirsty? Perhaps Kuchiki knew something about water in this world that he did not. Not like he'd tell me if he did.

He reached down and untied his own skin from the saddle. I guess I don't want to be dehydrated. Turning it up in his hands, he took a gulp…

…and nearly coughed up a lung.

"Haarack! Koff!" He tried as best he could to suck in a deep breath. "What the fuck is this shit?!" He had been expecting water, but the liquid that hit his tongue was thick with a cloying sweetness and a sour aftertaste.

"It is called mead,*" said Byakuya, taking another drink from his skin. "It is a type of alcohol made from honey. Do not insult it so loudly while we are in Asgard. It is the chosen drink of the gods of the Norse pantheon."

Renji gave Kuchiki a look of disbelief. He's telling me that he's been chugging down some type of ale this whole time? "I thought it was water." Somehow he was able to make this sound like both a question and accusation. Neither was addressed by his Captain, who kept his eyes forward, his face blank.

When Byakuya did not respond, Renji kept prodding for an explanation. "I mean, you were drinking so much of it." Byakuya clenched the reigns of his horse in a white-knuckled grip, but still he was met with silence.

Renji could feel his anger at being ignored rising to the surface, and only just managed to wrestle it under control. Unbidden, Rukia's words from earlier echoed in his head. "I don't know why, and we both know he'll probably never say, but my brother needs you for this mission. He wondered, not for the first time, how she came to this conclusion. Anyway, it wasn't that or any of the other sentences that she had spoken during that conversation that had convinced him. It was, Please, Renji, for me. She had not actually ended it with, "for me," and he couldn't be sure whether it had been implied or not. But Renji liked to think it was, and that's how he remembered it.

Because since he couldn't fail her (not again), it made the part of him furious at being kept behind and kept in the dark easier to squish down to the corners of his heart. There in those spaces, even if he could still feel it, at least he wouldn't act on it.

That's right, Abarai, always pushing it down and stayin' quiet. Always running the race only to turn chicken-shit when you see the finish line. He thought about that for a second, and blinked with a sudden, painfully-obvious realization. He isn't telling me because I haven't actually asked. I've only made statements. Renji, you damn coward. If you want the answer, ask the damn question.

"Why did you bring me here?" He had planned on asking about the alcohol. But in truth, that wasn't really what he wanted to know, and his mouth circumvented his brain. He'd asked, 'Why us?' earlier, and he'dgotten an answer. But the Captain had only told him why Kuchiki had to travel to this place, but not why he was here, despite having another place to be.

Byakuya's eyes slid to him, though his head didn't turn. After a brief pause, he said, "During the briefing, you were told that it is difficult for gods to travel into spirit realms with discordant reiatsu. I daresay you feel the pressure of the reiatsu rejection even now against your skin, your eyes. It is no doubt uncomfortable, but you are able to function. You could even draw your sword, and fight with it, though in their realm the Æsir* would defeat you in open combat with ease. As long as you do not release your zanpaktou, you are able-bodied in this realm.

"What you do not know is that there is a significant spike in the incompatibility of one's reiatsu in other realms as your power increases. For beings of mid-Captain level, any functions beyond the most basic movements are nearly impossible. Even walking is strenuous."

Renji actually had to remind himself to close his mouth, because it was hanging open. "Are you saying…are you telling me…" that right now, I'm stronger than you?

Kuchiki didn't answer the half-question. He didn't have to. "It was a great honor for Tyr to come and welcome us, but his continued presence would have been overwhelming—and we must yet have the energy to stand in the All-Father's presence."

"Then the horses…the real reason for the horses…"

"Are to conserve the energy I might have expended walking."

"And the mead- "

"Is the chosen drink of the gods of this pantheon. It resonates with reiatsu of this realm. When a god of a foreign realm ingests it, it dulls the side-effects. However, it has its own set of hazards. The more one drinks of it, the less your reiatsu resonates with your own realm. Thus, the weaker you are when you return there. Fortunately, this deficiency is only temporary. It is when it is eaten in concentrated quantities that it is most dangerous—in those instances, it may keep you bound to the spirit realm you ingested it in permanently.*

"Further, it is alcoholic, and has the associated detractors as well."

Renji blinked. Is he trying to tell me that he's…buzzed? Will be buzzed? Renji looked back in time two days, and decided his past self would have laughed in the face of his present self if he had tried to tell past-Renji that he would be having this conversation.

He tried his best to piece together what the Captain had told him into an answer for his question. "So, I'm here, because with you…" weak, drunk, "…with those issues you just mentioned, I would have to defend us if things turned ugly here."

"Do not be ridiculous. Neither of us would survive an attack by the Æsir while we're in Asgard. Your responsibility, should that unlikely scenario occur, would be to escape this realm and report to Soul Society that Asgard has fallen in league with Aizen."

"I understand," said Renji, and let the conversation die. He didn't need the Captain to confirm the rest, and suspected it had taken a huge chunk of his pride to say what he already had. Rukia had been right. Rather, she had been right about the Captain needing someone to assist him—with a dire mission and in a weakened state to boot.

And he had chosen Renji for the task.

Holy fucking crap. He actually trusts me. He trusts me to see him and travel with him while he's weak. Renji wondered if the winter war would commence faster now that Hell had frozen over.

*~*~*

Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Duat

The woman that showed up at the entrance to their room was both everything and nothing like the feline that had brought them to it the night before. When a black cat the size of a panther had prowled over to them from across the stone hallway, it was only its size that kept Ichigo from bursting out with an accusing "Yoruichi!" like an idiot.

He was glad he held his tongue; the voice that came out of the feline was deep like cat-Yoruichi's, but decidedly more feminine. After identifying herself as Bast,* she had taken them to a single room where they would be given a chance to eat (Do not worry yourselves over this food, young ones) and rest.

We will have separate rooms for you tomorrow, the cat had said. Urahara couldn't give us a definitive number on how many were coming, and we thought you like to stick together for the first evening, anyway. Rest now. We have much to accomplish in the morning.

The morning had arrived, and the woman standing before them was like a slightly more muscular and less clothed version of Ma'at. Unlike Yoruichi, this woman's voice matched her cat counterpart, and it slid out of her throat like water out of dark glass. "Good morning young ones. I hope that breakfast was satisfactory."

About an hour before her arrival (One hour, two? It's impossible to tell in this place) servants had come with trays of unfamiliar but perfectly palatable food. If Ichigo had any appetite, it probably would have been delicious. But the thought of the struggle they were facing made it hard enough to just force the food down his throat and swallow, let alone taste it.

"It was of excellent quality, " said Rukia, next to him in the doorway. "We appreciate your hospitality."

"Think nothing of it. We are pleased to be able to help you retrieve your friend, since the rest of us cannot help you fight your war. Are you all ready to leave?"

"Leave?" asked Ichigo. Though he knew—had been clearly told—that they wouldn't be able to cross Underworlds for three more nights, part of his stomach leaped into his throat at the word. He smashed it back down, too late to keep the disappointment entirely at bay.

"Are we going to begin the training Ma'at spoke of?" asked Ishida.

Bast smiled, and Ichigo couldn't help but notice her canines seemed rather long for her otherwise normal set of teeth. "Although I am pleased at your eagerness, we will not begin your training until tomorrow at first light. Today you will have lessons instead."

"Lessons?" asked Chad.

"Urahara asked that we educate you on the way that Death works. He said he did not have time to instruct you properly."

"The way death works?" asked Ichigo. He slid his eyes to Rukia, only to find her returning his confused glance. "But we—"

She laughed brightly. "Yes, yes. 'But you are Shinigami.' You know Death, but only for yours."

Ichigo fervently hoped that all of the gods they would meet on this journey would not talk in riddles.

"What do you mean 'ours?'" asked Rukia.

"Those who have placed themselves in the care of your pantheon, of course. Those that you guide to the next plane or realm. Yours." The way she said the word made something tingle at the back of Ichigo's neck. In his periphery he saw Rukia shiver, and knew the others had felt it too. Though it was by nature a possessive word, it did not bear the territorial claim of property or chattel when it passed her lips. Rather, she used it in the sense that a name was yours or a friend was yours; a significant, deeply-held association without ownership.

"You, Kuchiki-san, are the oldest here, and yet even you are not old enough and high ranking enough to understand the intricacies of Death beyond that of your own pantheon. You will need to know these secrets and more if you are to travel the realms."

So this is what Urahara meant when he said knowledge was power. I wonder if he was just being lazy and passed the task off. "Urahara asked you to teach this to us?" asked Ichigo, without the snide attitude that thinking of the shop keeper made him want to adopt.

"He left it in our care," she confirmed. "It is time we were on our way. Your teacher is waiting," She turned from them and began down the sand-strewn corridor, walking deceptively fast for a gait that seemed non-chalant.

As they walked, he tried to take in the surroundings. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to see as they made turn after turn through relatively narrow corridors: walls covered in indecipherable hieroglyphs, torches illuminating only small sections of the stone. He looked ahead, at Bast moving in perfect silence in front of them, and was again struck by the similarities between her and Yoruichi—most particularly in the way they moved. Unlike so many of the fighters he knew, who held their bodies in coiled tension just waiting to spring, both women held their muscles perfectly relaxed when not in use. Though Ichigo knew perfectly well their reaction time would be even faster, their strikes even harder to judge, the relaxed body language lulled an opponent into a false sense of security. It also put a distinct swagger-like roll to their hips, and it occurred to Ichigo that Grimmjow moved in a somewhat similar fashion. Hmm…I wonder what the connection is.

Ichigo was about to make a comment about this to Rukia, who was walking beside him, but when he turned her direction he found her scowling at him. "Wha—"

He never did finish, seeing as her elbow crashed into his ribs.

"..the hell?! How many times do I have to tell you not to go hitting people for no reason!" he yelled, grabbing his side. With the hall so narrow, his protest bounced off the walls and assaulted his ears. Note to self: do not yell at the top of your voice in an enclosed space the next time a hysterical broad hits you in the ribs. He felt this advice would certainly come in handy in the future, considering the number of girls he knew that were prone to violence, and how rarely he understood what was going through their minds. Forget Hueco Mundo, between Rukia and Tatsuki I'll die before I turn 18.

The rest of the group ignored the outburst, and the narrow stone corridor abruptly widened into a vast hall. Though the walls stretched out of sight on either side, stone pillars rose up along a narrow strip of floor, herding the group down an aisle. Besides the pillars there were only two things of note in the room, and they both lay at the end of the path.

The first was a beautifully wrought scale, the supports and balance trays all crafted out of gleaming gold. Even at this distance Ichigo could appreciate the craftsmanship. The second was the throne about ten yards behind the scales, complete with an imposing-looking man seated on it.

"Bast-sama," said Rukia before they got close enough to be heard, "who are you taking us to?"

"Who better to teach you than the Lord of the Afterlife?" She gestured to the throne facing the scales. "I am taking you to Osiris."

*~*~*

Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Valhalla (in Asgard)

The hall was a vast building, its very essence warfare. One could not conclude anything else when laying eyes upon it. The roof is thatched with spears and shields. They must take this warrior thing very seriously.

"We will leave the horses here," said Kuchiki.

Thank everything that was ever divine, thought Renji as he swung down from the animal.

They approached the enormous entrance, which was flanked by a couple of armor- and fur-clad men. Their spirit pressure was not nearly the crushing weight that Heimdall and Tyr had displayed. Dead warriors? Renji knew Valhalla* was a hall for the dead, but was rather rusty on the intricacies of the pantheon. With a silent nod, they swung the immense doors outward and motioned for them to enter.

If the outside was impressive, it was nothing compared to the sight that awaited them inside. A wall of noise crashed into them when the doors were open, revealing an aisle flanked on either side with a teaming mass of humanity. Or at least, they had been human. Renji wasn't sure if they were still considered such now that they had earned their place in the hall. Einherjar.* The word returned to him from the depths of his Academy education. They call them Einherjar.

His eyes swept around to take it all in. At least, as much as he could. Thousands of Einherjar were at benches for as far as one could see, eating, drinking, gambling, laughing. The majority were men, but a sizeable number of women were mixed in among the tables, laughing as loudly and drinking as heartily as the men. All were dressed as the guards he had seen out front, but he kept thinking he saw different clothing out of the corner of his eyes. Biker leathers. Camouflage. Denim. Even business suits, scrubs...Renji had known that the Norse pantheon was still collecting fighters, but he wondered how the criteria for identifying a warrior's soul must have changed over the millennia.

Beside him and a step ahead, Captain Kuchiki walked tall and proud. At least, that was how it would seem to a stranger. Renji could see the stiffness in his usually fluid movements, the miniscule indications his muscles gave that he was straining the closer they got to the throne at the end of the aisle. It looked like he was fighting every moment not to buckle over. Renji himself felt the pressure against his skin like the crushing weight of the sea. He could not even imagine how much worse it must be for the Captain.

The man on the throne was at least as tall as Zaraki, and even broader in the shoulder. Though he clearly had innumerable years etched into his features, his frame remained unbowed, and he sat on the throne like a man made for battle and not for sitting. He had but one eye that blazed a bright blue, yet it was the empty socket yawning on the right side of his face that drew Renji's attention.

[Hail, Lord Odin,*] said Byakuya in the heavy Norse dialect. [I…Kuchiki Byakuya, the…and my Lieutenant, Abarai Renji, have come… request your… struggle.] Even though he didn't really understand the majority of what was said, Renji was impressed at Kuchiki's ability to make his tone sound respectful and assertive at the same time. While he spoke, Renji kept his eyes peeled and watchful of the two enormous wolves that lounged at the base of the throne.* Maybe the whole 'devoured by wolves' thing wasn't all idle talk. Since they didn't really seem interested in him, he shifted his attention back to the conversation at hand.

"Well met, Soul Reapers," said the man in perfect Japanese. "I am Odin, All-Father, leader of the Norse pantheon. I welcome you to my hall. Valhalla is honored by your presence." He motioned with one hand, and a tall, pale woman stepped forward with a silver pitcher. She handed each of them a drinking cup that had been fashioned out of horn and silver, then filled the vessels with what Renji presumed was more mead. Kuchiki immediately took a sip.

"Moreover, I am pleased that you have come here, Captain Kuchiki," said the grizzled man. "Although we are committed to fulfilling the oath, I will not put the strength of my warriors under the command of anyone I haven't looked in the eye. I am well aware of the hardships you had to endure to arrive here. Your actions speak highly of you."

Renji wondered if Odin was including Baron Samedi's teasing under "hardships." He probably was.

"Allow me to be blunt," the god continued. "I cannot commit our strongest to your cause. Though Tyr and Thor and Freyja are only a few of the warriors we have eager to help wage your war, they must remain here, prepared in the event that Ragnarok begins. They would not be able to pass into your world in any regard, and I understood from the message that you are desirous of a warrior that can lend their expertise in Soul Society for at least a moon before the true outbreak of battle." He looked to the Captain for a confirmation, which was met with a nod. "To answer that need, I will send with you the strongest warrior that you can accommodate. In addition, I understand that there is concern for the protection of Midgard* when the battle-proper erupts. For this front, I will provide you with a host of Einherjar, to be summoned when the battle commences."

Captain Kuchiki bowed at the waist, and said something in Norse that Renji assumed was a formal statement of thanks.

"And one more thing," Odin continued. He shifted his shoulders, and a pair of ravens* perched on the back of the throne hopped and squawked at the movement. "The warriors that I am sending to fight for you, with you—I will have your word that you will lead them wisely. Each of one of them, from the most powerful on down, lived their mortal lives in a way that would earn them a place here. No, not in hall itself," he said when Renji looked around, "at my side. Valhalla is a waiting chamber. It is not an eternal resting place, it is the place we wait for Ragnarok. When the battle starts, every man and woman here has committed themselves to ride through those doors and fight until they are torn apart. They lived for this purpose. They died for this purpose—to be deemed worthy to fight alongside their heroes and gods, and protect their world from the monsters of chaos.

"The warriors I am sending with you—who have chosen to help you—are risking the fate they worked hard to earn to possibly be obliterated in a foreign realm fighting foreign enemies. Whether you understand what is in their hearts or not, this sacrifice is an enormous one to ask of them, and should not be taken lightly by anyone given the responsibility of commanding them in the coming war."

Kuchiki took a step forward, even closer to the throne, and Renji could see the way the exponential increase in pressure made the Sixth Squad Captain's legs tremor slightly under its weight. Renji was pretty sure that the one piercing blue eye could see it too.

Where there would have been a deep bow if they were in Soul Society, Kuchiki stood as tall as he could, and fixed his eyes directly on the elder god's face. Renji would've given most of his teeth and a kidney to know what the Captain said next, but it was a jumble of rough sounds laced together with a tone of oath and absolute conviction. I wonder if he switched to Norse specifically so I wouldn't hear it.

Odin's solitary eye practically burned in its socket as he watched Kuchiki speak. When he was finished, the god turned to the servant standing by with the pitcher. "Is the warrior ready?" She nodded in affirmation. "Excellent. Make the preparations." The woman bent her head in acknowledgement and moved from the hall.

"The good news, Shinigami," he said as she left, "is that while I can't send you our most powerful, we do not expect many of our pantheon's strongest enemies to flock to Aizen's court, either."

"Why's that?" Renji blurted out, before he could worry about speaking out of turn.

"Many of our greatest threats will not be strong enough to move until Ragnarok. We have already bound Fenrir,* at great cost,* and until he breaks free the most devastating agents—Loki and his children—will not dare make their move. For them to outrightly join Aizen now would either force Ragnarok into motion before they were at their peak of strength, or waste the strength they do have and make the wait for the Twilight even longer while they recover. It is my prediction that they will not see an opportunity in Aizen's war, only a false start.

"And anyway, by all reports Aizen is clever—clever enough to know that letting a trickster god like Loki in your inner-circle is dangerous. Even if he did come calling, Aizen would be wise to turn him away. No, it is not the powerful of our pantheon's enemies we should fear, but lesser creatures that might find his offer enticing and might in turn be found useful--the Jötnar* for a certainty, and possibly even some of the Svartalves.* These groups, and their numbers, are the ones we should concern ourselves with."

"We will remember this advice," said Kuchiki.

The god nodded. "Now that business is concluded, please help yourselves to our hospitality while preparations are made. When you have feasted, your new comrade will meet you where you left your horses. Travel well, Shinigami, and fight bravely. Hildegard." Another pale-skinned woman, this one with dark hair, led them to a table where men were eating meat and laughing loudly. There was space at the table, presumably for them to sit.

"Thanks," Renji said to the woman—Hildegard—as she refilled their drinking horns. Well, topped-off Renji's, anyway. This mead stuff must really be an acquired taste.

They spent the next hour drinking mead, eating joints of meat, and being slapped on the back hard by the warriors sitting at the table. At least, Renji was slapped on the back as he finished each round of drink. Kuchiki, though downing far more then him, was met with hearty applause only—the Einherjar realizing on their own that the Captain wouldn't appreciate such rough congratulations. Someday, Renji vowed to himself, I will project the kind of aura that will make Vikings think twice before pounding me on the back. His inner-self wished him good luck with that aspiration.

When they were finished, and had been seen off with loud wishes of good hunting shouted in Old Norse, they left the hall and moved towards the area where they had left the horses. On the approach, Renji saw the woman from the hall brushing down a large black stallion. She had sensibly changed from her white dress into leathers and boots for the task. Seeing his own horse standing nearby, he mentally grimaced, wishing that the riding part of the journey was already over.

As he and the Captain both started checking bindings, he thought about the Baron's request to tell women he'd said hello—and he purposefully wiped it from his mind. This woman looked muscled enough that if she punched him in the face, he'd lose teeth. Best not get teeth knocked out on account of someone else's innuendo. But conversation did seem polite, if she was taking care of preparations for the warrior that was to come with them. He decided to risk assuming she could speak Japanese.

"When will your death god be arriving?" he asked the servant.

Byakuya was off to his right, in the opposite direction from the woman. It was for this reason Renji didn't catch the sharp glance his Captain cast his way. He did notice the slight narrowing of her eyes and the tightening of her grip upon the bindings of the saddle, but the meaning was lost. "Pardon?" The word sounded awkward with her thick accent.

Maybe she doesn't speak Japanese that well? "Uh, the guy who owns that horse," he said, pantomiming his words for her benefit, "when is he coming?" As he watched, her mouth compressed into a tight line and her brow furrowed.

He shifted his glance over to Kuchiki, and saw that he had erected his 'blank face,' but closed his eyes. Though silent, everything in his body language seemed to convey the word, "Idiot." It only lasted a second before he had reopened his eyes, looked at the woman, and rattled off a string of words that Renji couldn't understand.

The woman snorted in reply, and with a forceful gesture swung her leg up over the back of the horse and landed heavily in the saddle. It was only then that Renji realized his mistake. Damn it Abarai, you really are an idiot.

From her seat high on the horse, she looked down at Renji with eyes that would have frozen ice. "I learned your language during the Second Great War."* The words were still thick and strange on her tongue, but this time around he could recognize that only part of what painted her words was accent. The other part was anger. Before he could even attempt an apology, she kicked her horse to a start and led it in the direction from which they had come.

Kuchiki began talking in his let-me-calmly-tell-you-why-you're-an-idiot voice. "That was Hraust, the highest ranking of Odin's formerly mortal Valkyries.* She is the one who will be traveling with us back to Soul Society as their representative to the Oath." He pulled himself onto his horse, and Renji was amazed that he was able to put just as much disdain into the gesture as Hraust had, though the reiatsu pressure and alcohol consumption made the movement much less fluid and graceful than it would otherwise have been.

As Kuchiki's horse turned to follow Hraust, Renji sighed and struggled into the saddle. He didn't need the extra height to see it would be a long trip back. He looked towards the shrinking figure of their new, angry traveling companion, and thought about what the Baron had told him. Samedi, you liar.

Author's Note 2:

To clarify, Renji's not actually being a sexist, though I'm sure Hraust thinks he is. After seeing her serving beverages in the hall, he filed her under "servant" in his mind. He didn't know that Valkyries are also cupbearers in Odin's Valhalla, in addition to their other, more well-known duties (see Valkyries below). So when he sees her again he applies this assumption and believes she's just gearing up the horse for a rider that will eventually arrive. If you think Renji can't catch a break now, wait until next chapter, when he meets Tatsuki. (You heard me!)

Tatsuki will be the star of the next chapter (at last!), though expect more from Duat and Hueco Mundo as well. I'm pretty excited about it—I've missed writing her, as I'm sure you all have missed her in the last few chapters.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to InfiniteDragon, Xoroth, rogue-angel82, Nachtweiss, Nameless Flame Wielder, Kelster Lynn, Veggiemite, Not_Bored_Anymore, red lilies, MiraResQNU for their much appreciated reviews on the last chapter. Seriously, all your kinds words are what makes it worth putting aside writing time when various gods know my schedule has been crazy. And thanks to you for reading all of this.

Mythology Notes:

Please be aware the following notes are a little out of order. I put them in the order they would make most sense if you read straight down the list.

Nine Worlds: The following notes will be easier to read (and for me to write) with a quick intro to the "Nine Worlds" of Norse Mythology. In no particular order: 1. Asgard: home of the Æsir (see below); 2. Alfheim: land of the light elves (think Legolas); 3. Muspellsheim: the land of fire; 4. Vanaheim: land of the Vanir (see Æsir below); 5. Midgard: Earth, where we live; 6. Jötunheim: land of the giants (see Jötunn below); 7. Niflheim: land of fog/mist, where Hel is (more on this later); 8. Nidavellir: land of the dwarves; 9. Svartalfaheim: land of the dark elves (see Svartalves below).

Asgard: See "Nine Worlds" above. Valhalla is one hall in Asgard.

Tyr: Tyr is the Norse god of war, justice, bravery, honor, sacrifice (for a cause), truth, and single-combat. While just about all Norse gods could be called gods of war (when you get right down to it), the essence of combat are most directly associated with him. Also known as Tiw in other Germanic languages, Tyr is one of the four gods given homage to in our days of the week (Tyr/Tiw's Day = Tuesday, Odin/Wotan's Day= Wednesday, Thor's Day = Thursday, and Freya's Day = Friday). On a side note, Tyr is given very little physical description in the mythos (as in hair color, etc.) so I had a bit of free range in how he should look.

Mead: a type of alcohol made from honey. A favorite of the Vikings, northern Germanic peoples in general, and other related European cultures. (Personally, I think it's best when mulled with spices). Mead flows freely in Valhalla. It should be thought of as the "drink of the gods" for this pantheon.

Æsir: The Norse gods are actually split into two groups, the Æsir (including Odin, Thor, Tyr, Baldur, etc.) and the Vanir (including Freyja and her twin brother Freyr). Most of the well known gods are in the Æsir, and Freyja and Freyr kind of get adopted into them, so the Vanir don't really come up to much in pop-culture. For simplicity sake, when this story mentions Æsir, think of it as "gods of the Norse pantheon," including relevant Vanir.

Foods of the Gods: Remember the advice Urahara gave the crew a couple of chapters ago? Same deal. Be careful what you eat and drink the lands of the gods.

Bast (or Bastet): Cat goddess of the Egyptian pantheon—a goddess of war and protection. Early depictions of her feature her as a lion (the war connotations being clear), and then later as a domestic cat—which were sacred because the exterminated rodents who spread disease, a form of protection. Bast is a warrior, but a warrior of a different stripe than the Norse gods or even the Shinigami, as it were. Hers is a strength of cunning and cleverness, a predator in every way that a feline is. Extra points to InfiniteDragon for recognizing her before I gave her name. In my story, I split the difference between a lion and a black house cat by having her appear as a black panther, but I suspect she'll show up as all three at some point or another.

Odin: The head of the Norse pantheon, also called All-Father. A god of wisdom, war, poetry, magic…the list goes on. To gain knowledge, Odin upside-down hung from a tree (the world tree, Yggdrasil) for nine days, stabbed himself in the side with a spear, and plucked out his right eye and dropped it into Mimir's Well. The eye is still there at the bottom of the well, seeing everything, and is only one of the avenues by which Odin wisdom constantly. Modern pictures of Odin often show him missing the left eye because of mirror-image confusion. When we look in a mirror, our right eye is on our right. But when we look at a photograph of ourselves, our right eye is on our left. (Seriously, check if you don't believe me). Artists draw the empty socket on their right, which is, in-fact, his left eye. Don't let this fool you. His right eye is the one that's in the well.

Einherjar: see "Valkyrie" below.

Midgard: See "Nine Worlds" above. Every pantheon has its own name for the human world. Karakura could be said to be in Midgard.

Wolves: Odin's two wolves, Freki (ravenous) and Geri (greedy).

Ravens: Odin's two ravens, Huginn (thought) and Muninn (memory). They take daily flights all over Midgard, and when they return to Asgard they tell Odin everything they have seen.

Fenrir (also Fenris): One of Loki's three children, an enormous wolf. Ragnarok will begin when Fenrir devours the sun, at which point the shit hits the fan.

Great cost: This is the story of how Tyr lost his right hand. The gods knew that Fenrir was Bad News—after devouring the sun, he will eventually be the one to kill Odin. To stave off this destiny as long as possible, the gods plan to entrap Fenrir and tie him up. But even this early in the game, the wolf is too big to be brought down with force; they must trick him. They get a huge chain from the dwarves and bet him that he can't break it. Proud, he lets them tie him up, and breaks the chain easily. They get an even bigger, stronger chain, challenge him again, and once again he breaks it with ease. Finally they go to the Svartalves, who make a thin rope from things like the footfalls of cats and the tears of birds. Sensing trickery this time, Fenrir only allows them to tie him up if a god puts their hand in his mouth. If he can't break it, and they don't untie him, he will eat the hand. Knowing it will mean their hand, their sword hand, only Tyr is brave enough to go through with it. The rope holds, Fenrir bites down, and Tyr becomes Tyr the One-Handed.

Jötnar (singular Jötunn): Giants. In Norse mythology, giants were chaotic beings that are often on the opposite side of a conflict, fight, or challenge as the Æsir or Vanir. They're not really "evil," but they are generally destructive.

Svartalves: Literally "dark elves." There are two types of elves in Norse mythology. The "light elves," which were the inspiration for the pale, gold-haired creatures in the Lord of the Rings (think Legolas), and the Svartalves. Though some sources (like Wikipedia) say that Svartalves=Dwarves, since each of these races have their own realm, I think it's unlikely they're meant to be the same. In any case, Svartalves are skilled crafters of metal and jewelry, and made the thin magical rope that finally bound Fenrir.

Valkyries: The pyschopomps of the Norse pantheon. Also called, "Choosers of the Slain," their specific job is to pick from the dead those that they think would kick a lot of ass at Ragnarok, and bring them to Asgard. These selected warriors are called Einherjar. Half of those they pick go to Valhalla (Odin's Hall), the other half to Fólkvangr (Freyja's Hall). In the mythos, there were definitely Valkyries that were always demigods—that like the Æsir had never been mortal. However, depending on what you read, there are also tales about mortal women who—through sheer badassery—become Valkyries after death. For the purposes of this story, there are both immortal and mortal Valkyries in Asgard, the latter of which is less powerful. Odin is sending the strongest of the mortal Valkyries to Soul Society.

While the mythos of Valkyries in general is pretty well shaped, not much is known about individual Valkyries (except Brunhilde, but her story is so specific it makes her a bad fit for this story). Therefore, Hraust will be one of the death gods I have a little bit more artistic license with. I promise not to go too crazy with it.

Valhalla: Odin's hall in Asgard. This is where half the Einherjar go (the other half go to Freya's hall, Fólkvangr) to feast and in general make merry until it's time for Ragnarok. Don't get confused—it's not "Norse heaven," because you don't get there by being virtuous and you don't get to rest on your laurels when you get there. There are actually many different places that the dead can go under this pantheon, depending on how you lived and how you died, with a range of pleasantness. If you're in Valhalla, it means specifically that you've been selected by the gods to help them fight the mother of all wars at the end of the world—and you think that's pretty damn awesome.

Second Great War: World War II. There's nothing like a war to bring death gods out of the woodwork, and nothing like a world war to get gods from different lands and cultures to meet. As Japan was a major player in that conflict, Hraust learned the language while choosing slain in the Pacific Theater. She simply had no call to learn it before that. Incidentally, WWII is also when Byakuya learned several Pacific Island languages, but see if he ever uses them.