Chapter 10 Setting the Stage
"Let me be on a journey to your heart,
on a mission to your soul.
Let me walk by your side."
The Eastern Sun
Justin Hayward
It would be a quick turn-around.
But not too quick.
At least he knew he would be reborn into a human body and not an animal one. The days of returning to the world of the living in a lower form were gone, and surely he had not regressed so much as to warrant a demotion in his next incarnation.
He would take only a single seed of memory with him. There was, after all, just one thing he needed to recall in the next life. His purpose. If he never recovered that memory, then this whole undertaking would be for nothing.
The act he was about to commit was not suicide, although it might be labeled as such from the viewpoint of onlookers. No, the decision to take his own life had, as its catalyst, nothing to do with despair or grief or sadness.
It had everything to do with revenge and the recoupment of power.
Heykibi knew he could never leave the precipice world and return to Soul Society as a free man. He would be hunted down and sent to the Maggots' Nest – or even worse, sealed away.
But there was a way.
His death would send him back to the living world in his next incarnation. Upon the death of that incarnation, he would once again return to the Soul Society. Granted, his soul would always be the same one, but his appearance and degree of spirit energy would be changed enough that the return of Heykibi might not be noticed. He would be just another new arrival.
Of course, there were risks involved.
The cue he would plant in his eternal soul might fail and the reason for his quest be lost forever.
Through some unforeseen disaster, his next incarnation might die before reaching the age of reason, and he would be returned to Soul Society in the state of a child, unaware of his goal; and even if he were aware, he'd most likely be unable to carry it out.
He could return to Soul Society upon his death in the living world, only to be found out right away and taken into custody.
If he could manage to pass at least thirty years in his next incarnation, he would be in the prime of his life and able to return to Soul Society with the physical and mental prowess of a man at his peak. Thirty years was hardly a moment against the eternal backdrop of Soul Society, and so he was willing to wait, if it meant he had a chance at finding the Atmen and regaining the power he had amassed for himself. And surely, by the time he returned to Soul Society, the furor over the demons would have died away and become a dusty memory.
Heykibi was a patient man. The hundreds of years he'd spent collecting reiatsu for his creation was proof of that. He called upon that patience now.
The sweeper would be coming by any moment to clear out any lingering souls from the precipice world. Heykibi had carefully avoided it on its previous passages, leaping back into Soul Society or the living world for a few seconds at each passing.
He would not avoid it this time. It was time to rejoin the world of the living.
"So? Captain Unohana? He's getting better, right?" Ikkaku asked the instant Retsu Unohana came out of Yumichika's room.
Retsu smiled. "Yes, he's getting better. He's definitely more coherent, but he's still very ill, Madarame-san. His reiatsu, while increased, is dangerously low, especially for someone like him, whose capacity for spiritual energy is so much greater than most others. He's extremely weak, and it will probably be weeks before he's strong enough to even get out of bed."
"But he's not going to die," Ikkaku spoke the question.
"No, I think it's safe to say he's not going to die," Unohana replied. "But he's also never going to be the same soul that he was before, at least with regard to his spirit energy. I would anticipate that he'll regain energy slowly until he returns to a sustainment level. But without Ruri'iro Kujaku, I don't think . . . I don't think he has the ability to manage anything greater."
"I don't care about anything greater," Ikkaku replied. "As long as he's going to live, that's all that matters."
Captain Unohana regarded him with a curious expression. "Do you think you're really up to the task?"
"What do you mean?"
"He's a wounded soul, Madarame-san," Unohana replied. "And it's a wound that can't be healed."
Ikkaku narrowed his eyes. "I don't understand."
"He hasn't realized yet that Ruri'iro Kujaku is gone," she said. "He's still moving through twilight right now, so he's not fully aware of what's happened." A pause. "But when he does realize it, that's an injury that we can't repair. We can't return to him what no longer exists." She put a hand on Ikkaku's arm. "I'm asking you if you really believe you can stay true to him through what is to come."
Ikkaku did not hesitate. "Yes, I can."
Retsu studied his face for a moment, then she nodded slightly. "I hope so, because if you can't, there aren't many other options."
Ikkaku was anxious. "Can I go back in and see him?"
"He's sleeping again, but you can go in," Unohana replied. "But first . . . your duty starts right now. You can't tell him he died and was brought back to life."
"What? Why not?"
"You can tell him he was healed, but not restored," Unohana said.
"But I don't—"
"For the same reasons we can't tell anyone else what happened," Unohana cut him off. "It's a power that can be horribly corrupted. It's better if no one—not even Ayasegawa—knows Ruri'iro Kujaku had that power."
"But what difference does it make? Ruri'iro Kujaku is destroyed," Ikkaku protested.
"But Heykibi is not."
"Heykibi? The sword smith? What's he got to do with this?"
"He's the one who was behind the creation of the demons," Unohana replied.
It occurred to Ikkaku that he'd been so worried about Yumichika that he'd not thought once about any discoveries that may have come from the battle's conclusion.
Ikkaku was flabbergasted. "Are you—are you sure? That doesn't seem possible."
"Positive," Unohana replied. "Mendalo turned him in, and we found proof of it in the forge."
Ikkaku tried to wrap his head around this idea. "How did Mendalo find out?"
"He came across a massive stockpile of zanpakuto hidden in the caves under the forge," Unohana replied. "He reported it, and it cost him his life. Heykibi killed him."
Ikkaku blanched. "Mendalo's dead?"
Unohana nodded. "Yes."
"But—but couldn't Ruri'iro Kujaku bring him back to life, just like he did with Yumichika?" Ikkaku blurted out unthinkingly.
"Yes, he could," Unohana replied. "Which is precisely why no one must know about Ruri'iro Kujaku's power. Surely, you can see that such a power could be terribly abused. The temptation to return the dead to life is too great for almost any soul to resist. So, even if Ruri'iro Kujaku is dissolved, the mere knowledge that such a weapon had recently existed would make Ayasegawa the target for many an unscrupulous soul. They won't believe that Ruri'iro Kujaku is truly destroyed. They'll try to possess him through Ayasegawa. You understand this, don't you?"
Ikkaku nodded minutely.
Unohana asked, "Do you still think you're up to the task?"
Ikkaku raised his head slowly to look at her with a focused determination. "So, it's not just that he's a wounded soul; he's also going to be a hunted soul."
"That remains to be seen," Unohana replied. "If news of Ruri'iro Kujaku's ability can be kept secret, then Ayasegawa should be safe. Very few people knew that Ayasegawa had actually died, so they won't know he was brought back to life. And the ones who did know were all my own people. I know they can be trusted. Many more felt Ruri'iro Kujaku's reiatsu when he brought Ayasegawa back to life, but we have just been telling people that those were Ruri'iro's healing powers, that he gave all his spirit energy to heal Ayasegawa, and was destroyed in the process."
"And they believe you?" Ikkaku asked.
"The fact that it all happened in the mourning shrine doesn't help our story, but I've managed to convince people that Ayaswegawa was not dead but near death, so we took him there." She shook her head. "It's clumsy, and maybe they really don't believe me, but we just have to stick with the story and wait for time to make it all fade to memory."
Ikkaku was thoughtful. "So, you're okay with me taking Yumichika away from here?"
"The farther, the better," she replied. "And not just for his protection, but for his peace-of-mind. It's not going to be easy, Madarame-san."
"I'm not worried about it being hard," Ikkaku replied. "I've dealt with hard before."
Captain Unohana smiled. "Then go on inside. But try not to wake him. He really needs a lot of rest. He's got a long way to go."
Kenpachi Zaraki might be coarse and barbaric. He might be cold and indifferent. He might even be slightly maniacal.
But the one thing he was not was a fool.
No sooner had he heard that Heykibi was responsible for the demon than he'd set off to find, not the demon, but the man. For, truth be told, Zaraki was one of the very few souls who had not liked the sword smith from the moment of their acquaintance.
Heykibi had known instantly upon their first meeting that Zaraki's zanpakuto was in a perpetually released state and that there was great disdain between the weapon and its master. When he learned that Zaraki did not even know the weapon's name, he had reacted with an unseemly smugness.
"If I had a weapon like that, I would know its name," the sword master had remarked. "I would know its name and cherish it."
The intended insult aside, there had been something else in Heykibi's manner that had never sat well with Zaraki. It was almost as if the sword smith had been trying to woo the weapon, to offer what would have been a sweeter existence, a kinder mastership.
It had infuriated Kenpachi then and it still grated on him now.
Whatever confrontations might have occurred between the Gotei 13 and the demon, those had been of little concern to him. He had his eye on the prize, not out of any sense of obligation to Soul Society, but because he now had a legitimate reason to take on the man who had denigrated him and attempted to coax his zanpakuto away from him.
But he had to find him first.
Zaraki was certain that Captain Kurotsuchi and Squad Twelve would have already been scanning for Heykibi's reiatsu signature. Maybe they had already found him. Yet, somehow, Zaraki knew that was not the case. Intuition? Or the fact that his own mind was as devious as the man he sought?
Heykibi had to know that, so long as he stayed in Soul Society, he was trackable – unless he was able to change his signature, and Kenpachi could not fully discount that possibility, given Heykibi's handiness with reiatsu. And so it seemed most likely that Heykibi was not in Soul Society. If that were the case, there were only so many possibilities where he could have gone.
And Zaraki Kenpachi intended to track him down, no matter which option he had chosen.
Or how long it took.
"Are you okay?"
Hoozukimaru looked up from where he was sitting atop a hardened lava flow that had the appearance of black clouds billowing up from among the greenery of the surrounding jungle.
It was unlike his master to make such an inquiry, to show concern over something as intangible as his zanpakuto's feelings. But given the circumstances, it was appropriate, even if unexpected.
"Yeah," the dragon replied.
"I know what he meant to you," Ikkaku offered.
Hoozukimaru gave a curt nod but said nothing.
After several seconds, Ikkaku went on. "I didn't know he had the ability to bring Yumichika back to life. And even if I had known, I . . . I wouldn't have expected him to do it. There was so much misery between them."
"What's done is done," Hoozukimaru stated in a neutral tone.
Ikkaku looked at him with probing eyes. "Do you blame me for what happened?"
Sometimes Hoozukimaru could not believe the idiocy of his master. "No, I don't blame you," he replied. "You didn't create the demon."
"But if I hadn't turned Yumichika away, he wouldn't have been alone out there and—"
"The demon would have gone after him wherever he'd been, because it wanted Ruri'iro Kujaku," Hoozukimaru replied. "It wouldn't have made a difference where Little Pretty was or who he was with." A pause. "Besides, it wasn't your idea for Ruri'iro Kujaku to sacrifice himself to save Little Pretty. You didn't even know he could do it. Neither did I. It was his own idea, and . . . and I don't blame you for that. I don't blame him, either. He did want he wanted to do, and at least . . . at least I still have one of them, instead of neither of them. And when you made that promise to Ruri'iro Kujaku, you included me in that obligation. I'm going to make sure you keep it."
Ikkaku was speechless.
"At least I still have one of them . . . "
Hoozukimaru's devotion to Ruri'iro Kujaku apparently was so strong that it would now appear in his devotion to Yumichika.
Ikkaku suddenly realized that he was not alone in what he was undertaking. He would not have to navigate the upcoming trials by himself. He would not be the sole source of comfort and protection for Yumichika. In fact, he had the best possible companion for such a task.
And at that moment, he was certain that he was in possession of the most amazing zanpakuto ever to come forth from a man's soul. Steady, solid, dependable . . . and possessed of a magnanimous spirit that softened the more brutal aspects his character – Hoozukimaru was the reflection of those things Ikkaku could rarely find in himself.
"And mark my words," Hoozukimaru was saying. "If you go off the rails, I'll drag you back kicking and screaming."
Ikkaku gave a tiny grin. "That won't happen this time."
"Not if I can help it," Hoozukimaru warned. "But you've blown it before, so don't get over sure of yourself." A pause. "I know you don't realize it, but staying faithful to anything is something you have to work at. It doesn't come naturally, you know. Just because you make a promise doesn't mean you're automatically able to keep it. You have to work on it and . . . sometimes, you have to make sacrifices."
"I know—"
"No, no you don't," the dragon interrupted. "Because if you'd known that, you never would have left him in Venla. You never would have cast him off when you found out about the kido. You made promises to stay with him, and when things got tough, you gave up." He jumped down from the lava flow. "You'll stick with a fight, no matter what the odds, until it's over. But you can't keep a promise to the end." He leaned close. "Well, I'm here to help you keep this one, because it's my promise, too." A pause. "He's waking up again. You should go back."
"You can sense that?" Ikkaku asked, surprised.
Hoozukimaru nodded. "I know Little Pretty almost as well as you do." A pause. "You have Ruri'iro Kujaku to thank for that."
Ikkaku prepared to return to the outside world, but before doing so, he turned once more to Hoozukimaru. "You know . . . I . . . I'm lucky to have you."
"You're damned right."
Ikkaku opened his eyes onto the Squad Four ornamental garden, where he had retreated to engage in the jinzen. He was surprised to see a veil of sparse snowflakes falling outside the gazebo where he was sitting. He hadn't realized it was cold enough for snow; it certainly didn't feel that way.
He guessed that it was close to noon, which meant he hadn't really been in his inner world for very long, and the fact that the ground was not even showing a light dusting meant that the snow must have started only in the past thirty minutes.
He stood up and prepared to return to the hospital.
Two days had passed since Yumichika had come to his senses, but he'd been largely asleep since then. Ikkaku, after his talk with Captain Unohana, had returned to Yumichika's room and stayed there until the following morning, when the nurses had kicked him out during their rounds. They'd kicked him out again this morning.
That was when he'd finally scrounged up the courage to approach Hoozukimaru. He'd actually been afraid of what such an encounter might entail, for Hoozukimaru had every right to be angry at him. The fact that he wasn't was yet another occasion for Ikkaku to count his blessings.
He got to his feet and walked slowly back towards the hospital, contemplating what an early winter would mean. It would necessitate putting off the departure from the Seireitei, for who wanted to travel in the cold and snow? Then again, Captain Unohana had made it clear that it would be quite some time before Yumichika were fit for travel; so even with mild weather, it might be spring before they could set out.
That was fine. A month—even two months—would be acceptable, even preferable, and give Ikkaku the time he needed to check on certain things that needed to fall into place before he was willing to take Yumichika anywhere.
Some of those things he could check out right now, before returning to Yumichika's bedside.
He could be in Mito in thirty minutes using shunpo. Perhaps, by the time he returned, Yumichika would be awake again. And with any luck, Ikkaku would be able to bring him good news.
He leaped up onto the roof of one of the Squad Four buildings, looked south and was on his way. It took him a little longer than thirty minutes. When he arrived, he set down on the strip of open ground between the village and the sea. He spared the village only a glance, seeing that it was still in ruins. As if he had not hated it enough, now, after the battle, his loathing of it had expanded as the place where Yumichika had been mortally wounded. The miracle of Ruri'iro Kujaku's bringing him back to life did nothing to lessen Ikkaku's aversion. He despised the place and always would.
He headed for the docks, and as he drew nearer he could make out the stooped form of a man pulling a heavy rowboat onto the shore. He quickened his pace, announcing his arrival by taking hold of the other side of the bow and helping to pull it clear of the water.
Kaekae looked up, startled. "Madarame-san! Ya still 'live!" He reached out and slapped him on the shoulder.
Ikkaku grinned. "I should have known you'd still be alive."
A chuckle escaped the old man's lips.
"How did you avoid the demons?" Ikkaku asked. "I saw them here on the shore. There were dozens of them. How were you not attacked?"
"Eh, wha's an ole bonebag like me gots for the likes a' them? Ain' 'nough spirit en'gy here ta fill a flea." He did not waste a second more in small talk. "Where's Ayasegawa-san? I heard 'e was bad 'urt."
"He's back in the Seireitei recovering," Ikkaku replied. "He was seriously injured, but he's getting better." A pause. "One of the first things he asked when he regained consciousness was whether or not you were okay. I thought I'd better come and find out."
"Ya tell 'im I'm fine," Kaekae said. "And then ya tell 'im ya gonna stay wi' im."
Ikkaku felt a smile tugging at his lips. "I am going to stay with him, Kaekae."
The boatman appeared taken aback for a moment. That had been easier than he'd imagined. He'd expected an argument, or at least a firm deferral.
"So, ya fine'ly came a ya senses," he nodded. "Good, good."
Ikkaku leaned against the side of the boat. "Are you going to stay here?"
Kaekae regarded him as if the very question were ludicrous. "Course I am. Where else I'd go?"
"You could come with me and Yumichika," Ikkaku replied. "As soon as he's well enough to travel, I'm taking him away from the Seireitei."
Kaekae thought the very idea was humorous and out of the question. "Ma life is 'ere on this sea. Ya two don' need no crotchety ole sea-goat in ya biz-ness."
"I know Yumichika would be happy to have you nearby," Ikkaku persisted.
"Ayasegawa always knows where ta fine me if 'e needs me," Kaekae replied.
"Well . . . he'll be glad to know you're safe at any rate, and you'll always be welcome, you know that." Ikkaku hesitated. "Do you know . . . do you know if . . . was Hinsamoi killed in the attack?"
"E' ain't been seen since," Kaekae answered. "I don' know if 'e was killed, but 'e was in the village when the 'tack came and no one 'as seen 'im after that."
Ikkaku nodded. "The others?"
"Lots of folks died, Madarame-san," Kaekae replied. "I'm a not keep count or names."
Ikkaku understood, and he felt macabre for even wondering about it.
"Take care, Kaekae," he said, straightening up and preparing to leave. "Somehow, I don't think this will be the last time we see each other."
He had one more place to visit before returning to the Seireitei.
It was mid-afternoon when Ikkaku returned to the hospital.
He found Yumichika still sleeping, but the nurses on duty assured him that everything had been quiet in his absence. Yumichika's vital signs were holding steady, and it was expected that he would spend a lot of time sleeping as his soul attempted to regenerate its reiatsu.
Matsumoto had been there when he first arrived, but she departed about thirty minutes later, having come straight to the hospital after coming off-duty and now feeling the need to go back to her own quarters and get some rest – or something to drink.
Within a few minutes after Ikkaku had sat down and made himself comfortable, Yumichika drew in a deep breath, signaling his return to wakefulness. A few seconds later, he opened his eyes.
"I take it you got some good sleep," Ikkaku stated, at which shifted his gaze to him. "It's been two days."
Yumichika raised his brows. "Really? Then I guess it was good."
"I have some news for you," Ikkaku announced anxiously. "While you were asleep, I went back to Mito to check on Kaekae. He's fine. He wasn't even injured in the attack."
Yumichika gave an audible sigh. "Oh, that's a relief."
"Yeah. And he was glad to know that you're going to be okay," Ikkaku went on.
A brief silence followed as Yumichika glanced around the room as much as his limited strength would allow. At last, he asked, "Where is Ruri'iro Kujaku? Can you bring him to me?"
Ikkaku blanched and felt as if his body had turned to stone. He had not been expecting this question. In fact, he'd been hoping to hold off on the topic of Ruri'iro Kujaku for as long as was reasonably and credibly possible.
"I, uh . . . we can, uh, we can talk about that later," he stammered clumsily.
"I just want to . . . I need to hold him," Yumichika said, and there was something unsettling in his voice. "I need to feel him in my hands, because I . . . I can't sense his reiatsu. At all." He looked at Ikkaku and there was abject dread creeping into his eyes. "And when I tried to go to my inner world, I couldn't. It was as if—as if it didn't even exist anymore."
"Yumichika—"
"I'm afraid something's happened to him," Yumichika went on. "I can always feel his reiatsu. This isn't right."
Ikkaku was frozen. What was he to do?
"Tell him."
Hoozukimaru's voice inside his head helped to calm his twisting innards.
"Yumichika . . . Ruri'iro Kujaku is gone," he said evenly, although he was unable to maintain eye contact as he spoke the final words.
Yumichika, already pale, now went ashen. It took him a few seconds to find his voice. "What do you mean, gone?"
"I know you don't remember much about the battle, but Ruri'iro Kujaku defeated the enemy," Ikkaku began awkwardly. "We—we all thought he had been destroyed when he went inside the creature and it disappeared. No one saw him after that, and all—all that was left was the hilt—"
"Ruri'iro Kujaku couldn't be destroyed by something like that," Yumichika cut him off, his voice dangerously on edge for someone still recovering from grievous wounds. He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself of his words than as if he truly believed them.
Ikkaku nodded nervously. "You're right, you're right. But we—we didn't know that. We thought he'd been destroyed, and you—you—Yumichika, you were hurt so badly, there was nothing they could do for you. Even Captain Unohana couldn't restore your reiatsu." He paused and swallowed. "We all thought you were going to die." He saw Yumichika looking at him with round eyes, filled with fear and trepidation; and he felt his own courage slipping away. He had to say it now, plain and simple, straightforward and without any attempt at couching it in gentle terms, or he would never be able to tell him. "But Ruri'iro Kujaku wasn't destroyed in the battle. He came back and . . . and . . . "
Just when all the lies had been put to rest, here he was about to initiate a whole new deception. No! No, he couldn't do it. After all the dishonesty of the past hundred plus years, he did not want to add more to it. And yet, this was not his own personal decision to withhold the truth. This was directed by no less a Soul Reaper than Head Captain Yamamoto himself and sanctioned by Captain Unohana. Even Captains Ukitake and Kyoraku were a part of it. Dare he go against such paragons?
" . . . he healed you," he concluded.
So, he had made his decision. He would keep the secret in the hope that one day, it would either no longer matter or that he might be able to reveal it to Yumichika without fear of the dreadful repercussions portended by those with more wisdom than him.
"But—but then where is he?" Yumichika's voice was trembling.
"He had to use all his spirit energy to save you," Ikkaku replied. Now that he had committed himself to a certain subterfuge, he felt a sense of calm that came through in his answer.
"That's not possible," Yumichika protested, and he was growing agitated. "He—he was much more powerful than I was. He had more spirit energy than I did—"
"Not according to him," Ikkaku replied. "He said his own spirit energy never came close to yours. He also said something about how he had to use a lot of his spirit energy to break free when you tried to protect him . . . "
"Break free? What—what are you talking about?" Yumichika asked, and his entire body was shaking now.
There was a burst of light as Hoozukimaru manifested, and his appearance brought complete silence to the room.
The dragon stood beside the bed and eyed him with knowing earnest. "Ayasegawa-san . . . you know what he's talking about," the dragon said quietly. "The very thing you used to employ to hold Ruri'iro Kujaku back ended up being the same thing you used to save him. He said you were afraid he was going to be destroyed, and so you sent him into one of the cages even as he destroyed the demon. You don't remember?"
Yumichika stared at him without speaking. He truly did not remember. He recalled very little about the last moments of the battle, other than the sound of Ikkaku's voice, browbeating and pleading with him to say the release command . . .
He did not even recall if he had, in fact, spoken the command. Clearly, he had, but what had followed thereupon—of that, he had no recollection.
Hoozukimaru went on. "He had to break free of the cage before he could come save you. That took a lot of his energy, and he . . . he ended up destroying the shrine to do it. What energy he had left was only enough to bring you to the state you are in now." His voice caught. "He didn't think he had enough energy to help you, but he . . . " He stopped and took a deep breath. How difficult this was. "He just needed to find his courage. And he did."
This was too much for Yumichika to accept. "How—how could he destroy the shrine? That was the source of his power!" He pushed feebly up onto his elbows. "Where is he?!"
"Yumichika, take it easy," Ikkaku said, pressing him down. "You'll hurt yourself if you get too excited—"
"He can't be gone," Yumichika continued to protest. "He can't be! He's my zanpakuto, and if I'm alive, he has to be alive!"
Hoozukimaru knew that his master was thinking the same thing that he was: that the relationship between Yumichika and Ruri'iro Kujaku had been anything but the normal relationship between a zanpakuto and his master. Not only had Ruri'iro Kujaku outlived Yumichika, but now Yumichika had outlived his zanpakuto. The way of things, taken so long for granted, had been thrown on its head by recent events; and now, nothing made sense anymore.
Adding to the pathetic bent of the whole situation was the undeniable fact that Yumichika was only now mourning the loss of a weapon he had been ready to cast off into oblivion just a few days earlier.
"Yumichika, please, calm down," Ikkaku begged, but he needn't have said anything.
Yumichika was not strong enough for the exertion and he slumped back onto the bed, drawing in breath after wavering breath. "No," he moaned wretchedly. "It's impossible. He can't be gone."
Ikkaku glanced up at Hoozukimaru and gave him an unspoken command to return.
Hoozukimaru complied.
Ikkaku still had his hands on Yumichika's shoulders, but he was no longer holding him down. He was, instead, trying to offer comfort. He spoke softly. "He made me promise something before he disappeared. He made me promise that I would never abandon you again."
Yumichika regarded him without speaking.
"I know I've broken my promises before," Ikkaku went on. "But not this time." He waited for Yumichika to say something, to give some kind of reaction; but none was forthcoming.
Yumichika lowered his eyes. He seemed numb or disinterested, although Ikkaku knew he could not be the latter. He imagined that the news of Ruri'iro Kujaku's demise was crowding out every other consideration, and Yumichika's despondency was the result of that news.
"Yumichika?"
After a brief hesitation, Yumichika spoke in a whisper. "I need to be alone for a bit."
Ikkaku understood this. He nodded slightly. "Okay." He got to his feet. "I'll be back in an hour or two."
The moment Ikkaku was gone, Yumichika tried again and again to enter his inner world. But there was nothing there—nothing he could find, at any rate. Still, he refused to believe that Ruri'iro Kujaku no longer existed. Such a vibrant power could not be extinguished. It was inconceivable.
And yet, he could not deny that there was an emptiness inside him, a large, sweeping hole that had not existed before. The self-confidence, the certainty of his own allure—they had always been present. Now, he had not even a tacit impression of them. Everything that had made him desirable, graceful, and erotic seemed to have been carved out and removed from his soul.
But was it really so? Or was he talking himself into a mindset out of fear for what he might have lost?
And how could he be so broken up over the loss—the possible loss—of a zanpakuto he had never wanted in the first place? For the better part of the last hundred years, he'd been bemoaning his sad situation as master of a weapon that did not suit him, that did not belong in his squad, and that could never afford him the sense of belonging that a physical-type zanpakuto could have provided.
Damn it! He'd hated Ruri'iro Kujaku! A deep, visceral hatred that had permeated every aspect of his life . . . and all because of his own weakness. His own cowardice. And now, he here was, feeling as if his soul had been hollowed out from the inside! He was being forced to admit that the vacancy was that left by the dissolution of Ruri'iro Kujaku.
No. No, he would not accept that. Ruri'iro Kujaku was not gone. He was just . . . unreachable for the time-being. Time and diligence would return him to a place where Yumichika could find him. Yumichika only had to be patient.
And given his physical condition, the requisite patience would be forced upon him. Time stretched out before him into eternity, and if that's how long it took for him to recover Ruri'iro Kujaku, then so be it.
If Ikkaku had been able to admit his mistakes to Yumichika, Yumichika was not above admitting his own mistakes, which were all the more grievous, to Ruri'iro Kujaku.