Chapter Nine: Investigations
The world was black, and trembling all around him.
From somewhere in the inky depths came the sound of a voice, muffled but growing gradually clearer as it penetrated through the murky haze of unconsciousness that had enveloped Ketsui's body.
"Ketsui? Ketsui, are you all right?"
The voice was close now, and Ketsui realised that the shaking was no longer the rumble of the mountain, but rather the touch of someone else's hand on his shoulder, trying to wake him with a worried note in their voice. He struggled against the sleepy lure of oblivion, fighting to open his eyes and blinking several times as the light of the day seared against his blurry retinas. An unfocused auburn and black blob was leaning over him, and, as he brought the world into greater clarity, he realised it was Naoko, covered in dust and stone, her cloak discarded and her shihakushou wet from the snow on which he too now lay. Pain resonated through his body and he grimaced, pulling himself awkwardly up into a sitting position and flexing his limbs one by one as he struggled to recall what had happened. They had been inside the mountain, he remembered, but then something had exploded, and now...
He raised a confused gaze to Naoko's concerned one, slowly shaking his head.
"I'm not hurt," he said slowly, "at least, nothing is broken. But I'm not sure if I'm...all right. What was that? Something inside the mountain...did it erupt, like the mountains you talked about before?"
"No..." Naoko sat back on her heels, clearly relieved at his responsiveness. "You were out for a while, and I was worried you'd taken a bad blow to the head. Look at me, will you? I might not be a proper healer, but I do know how to spot a concussion."
"I'm not certain that I hit my head," Ketsui did as he was bidden, and Naoko examined him carefully, checking one eye and then the other for signs of haziness. "I did black out, though. The last thing I remember is releasing Reihashou. There was light and I thought I saw the dragon. Then nothing. I hit the deck pretty hard, I think, and the jolt rendered me out. It's more my body, though. I feel a bit mangled, but nothing lethal."
"I don't think you're concussed, either," Naoko said frankly, getting to her feet. "That's good. Can you get up? You said no bones were broken, so..?"
"I think so. I'm made of pretty tough stuff," Ketsui nodded, accepting the hand she proffered him and noticing as he did so that her fingers were scuffed and red, maybe even swollen from the shock of the fall. He frowned at the sight of blood against her skin, and at his gaze, Naoko shrugged matter-of-factly.
"If not for Reihashou, we'd probably both have been worse," she said honestly. "It's just scraped, that's all. You were quick, releasing your blade. I did train you well - thank you."
"It was instinct more than anything," Ketsui admitted, brushing himself down and wincing at the bruises he found beneath his shihakushou. "I really am going to be black and blue, but I suppose it's no worse than that for me, either."
"They do say ice is good for bruising," Naoko said ironically, gazing around at the mountaintop. "There's plenty of it to be had, so long as you don't want to go back inside the mountain."
"No..." Ketsui gazed down at the leg of his shihakushou, suddenly recalling the sense of something grabbing onto it in the moments before the cavern had exploded. Sure enough, the fabric was torn, and he bent to touch it, a sense of deep unease settling in the pit of his stomach.
"Something was inside there," he said softly. "I saw it. I don't know what it was, but it wasn't a corpse. It tried to grab me. I'm sure."
"I didn't see anything," Naoko's eyes narrowed. "Dokusou Houshi isn't sure what happened, either. My spores shouldn't create that kind of spiritual chain reaction, no matter how pure the atmosphere, but it's all I can think of. Somehow, releasing my sword caused something inside of there, and..."
"No, it wasn't Dokusou Houshi," Ketsui insisted. "I'm certain, Naoko-san. I saw a hand - a hand like yours or mine," he held up his right hand, twitching his fingers tentatively. "It did this. I saw it. And then, as I tried to get out, something grabbed me. It tore my shihakushou when I tried to get away. Then everything exploded, and we ended up out here."
"You're saying, in fact, that whatever it was inside of that mountain escaped, and created the whole explosion in doing so?" Naoko asked. Ketsui nodded.
"I...I suppose I am," he admitted. "I know it doesn't make sense, but that's what happened. I'm sure. I didn't imagine it. And my shihakushou didn't tear itself."
"Dokusou Houshi also agrees that there was something there," Naoko admitted reluctantly. "As soon as things began to shake, I sealed my sword, because I thought it must have caused it. But the moment before I did, Dokusou Houshi thought it picked up the traces of something. Something...or someone...with spirit power. It wasn't a reiatsu I knew, and Dokusou Houshi didn't register what exactly it was. Just that it was there, and Houshi-sama was pretty sure whatever it was was living, not dead reishi. They made a momentary connection."
She glanced at her sword.
"Maybe that fact itself woke whatever it was up. Shinigami don't normally come here...I guess the release of a zanpakutou might be enough reiatsu to stir something in deep sleep. That is, assuming it was spiritual, as Houshi-sama thought."
"So not a human sacrifice, then?" Ketsui shivered. Naoko shrugged.
"Well, whatever it is, it isn't there now," she said sadly, gesturing towards the crumbled remains of the mountainside. "The whole shrine went up, and there's nothing left of it now."
"The local people will be sad," Ketsui reflected, and Naoko sent him a fond look.
"Not a lot we can do about it," she said frankly. "If there was something inside the mountain, and it's gone, then that's how it is. We were sent to find the cause of the anomalies, and, probably, we succeeded. The only problem is that we seem to have lost track of it. I don't know if you noticed, but the air up here is neither as cold nor as pure as it was before. I don't know how long we've been out, but the sun is starting to set, so, assuming it's the same day, we've been unconscious only a matter of hours. In that time, whatever it was disappeared...and a thaw has begun."
"A...thaw? That quickly?" Ketsui was startled, and Naoko nodded.
"I tried to get back inside the shrine, for what it's worth," she said bleakly. "I couldn't get all the way to the dragon carving, or what's left of it, but I did see the remains of the frozen lake. And it isn't frozen any more. It's pure, clear water...like it was never ice at all."
"Then this whole mountain...all the ice and cold...was caused by whatever it was trapped inside?"
"Maybe. It's a theory, and the best one we have to take back to the Captain," Naoko sighed heavily. "We should go down the mountain. I dislike leaving this place, especially sine we don't know where the frozen sleeping beauty went to, but it's not here and Dokusou Houshi has confirmed it. I've walked the area while you were out cold, but there's nothing at all. It's completely vanished."
"But it left without hurting either of us, even though the explosion knocked us unconscious," Ketsui's brain was working now. "Even though it tried to grab my leg, I suppose that means it isn't hostile?"
"All it means is that we still don't know what we're dealing with," Naoko admitted. "But we do at least now know there is something here to look for. And that is something we can report back on, at the very least."
Ketsui turned his gaze towards the mountain, pursing his lips pensively as he remembered the twitching pink fingers, and the searing cracks that had rent through the ice. At length he nodded, getting to his feet.
"We need to do that," he agreed. "It might not have hurt us, and it might not be hostile, but if you're right and the source of the ice and the pure atmosphere here was because of whatever that was, then the whole eco-system here is likely to start to change. And the Hollows might come back."
"More importantly, we need to find the source and make sure it poses no danger to our work or the Real World as a whole," Naoko added. "But for now, we'll return to the river. We both need to rest and review what happened, and then we'll think about our next move after that."
"Well, so what do you reckon?"
Hiroshi sprawled out across the covers of his bunk, casting Shinobu a thoughtful look. It was later that same afternoon and, after a brisk tour and break for lunch, the recruits had been given an hour to settle themselves in before attending the drill yard and Enishi's training exercise. Several of them had gone to the bathhouse, for it was empty at this time, but Shinobu had lingered in the dormitory, and, after a moment of thought, Hiroshi had elected to remain behind to speak to his friend alone.
"Thirteenth, I mean," he continued now. "What are your first impressions, Shinobu? It seems pretty fine to me, but you've been real quiet since our tour earlier. I wondered if you were just overwhelmed by the fact we were finally here, or whether something was eating you."
"Eating me?" Shinobu set aside the recruit handbook he had been leafing through, raising his gaze to meet his friend's. "Not sure. I mean, it's as you say. We're here. I'm happy. Very happy, actually. The Division is everything I expected, and the facilities look decent. Everyone we've met has been friendly. Later we have a chance to go prove our merit to be chosen for a special patrol even though we're just through the door, and I mean to make the best impression I can on the Vice Captain when we meet him, since the way Kayashima-san and Kohaku-san were talking, he sounds like someone you want in your corner. I like being in shihakushou, and I'm really looking forward to knowing what formal patrols I'm going to be assigned to and who my immediate superior officers are likely to be."
"I feel there's a but coming in this," Hiroshi arched an eyebrow, and Shinobu stretched out on his own bunk, letting out a sigh. He shrugged.
"Like I said, I don't know," he admitted. "It's earlier. What happened then. I mean, nothing really did, but..."
"You're not making sense," Hiroshi sighed. "Look, I stopped back here to talk to you, but if you're not going to be coherent, I might as well have gone with Morata and the others to the bathhouse. It's a long and dusty journey, even from the tolls, and while my shihakushou is still pretty clean, I'm sweating buckets underneath it."
"Sweating? It's not that hot," Shinobu looked concerned, and Hiroshi grimaced.
"Nerves," he said frankly. "I told you. I've been having doubts about my abilities for a while, and now I'm here, I guess I worry that they'll decide I'm not good enough after all."
"You're an idiot, then, because Ukitake-taichou accepted your application and he only accepts those he has an interest in," Shinobu said acidly. "I don't understand what it is with you lately, you know. You went through the whole Academy without a single issue like this. We reach final year, and suddenly you're worrying about everything. What gives? What happened to knock your confidence? I don't get it."
"I don't know, really," Hiroshi glanced at his hands. "Well, maybe I do. Honestly, I'm quite glad we're not going to the Real World yet. I didn't really like being there, if you want to know the truth. It scared me. A lot."
"You were attacked by those Hollows." Shinobu's expression became one of comprehension. "I'd forgotten. It was a one off situation, though, Hiroshi. You couldn't predict that you'd slip and fall into that ravine, or that there'd be a Hollow posse lurking around there. You did pretty good, fighting them off on your own, even though you'd hurt your arm and your leg in the fall. Sensei was impressed with your reaction, remember? I hadn't thought it was bothering you any - but if that's it..."
"It made it all very real to me, all of a sudden," Hiroshi admitted. "I know you're right, and I did fight back. I managed to take out one Hollow before I passed out from loss of blood, but if you and Takahashi hadn't appeared on the scene, I'd not have survived. I know that, and it frightens me. I thought I was fit and ready to handle anything, but I wasn't, and I nearly died. I suppose I've been questioning everything since then."
He rolled up the sleeve of his shihakushou, glancing at the healing scar across his upper arm.
"This reminds me," he added. "I know it's paranoid and morbid, but I can't help how I feel. I never had a situation go out of my control before, and the one time it happens is when it really matters."
"But the important thing is that we were there to back you up," Shinobu pointed out. "And we will be here, too. That's what squad is about. Thirteenth has that close vibe, and I don't think Ukitake-taichou sounds like the kind of person who'd put people at risk if they weren't ready to be there. That's why he limits lower seats going to the Real World. We'll be doing Rukongai, probably, but how dangerous can that be? You'll be fine. You'll get lots of experience and you'll get your nerve back. Then, when it's our turn..."
He made a cutting motion with his hand.
"Hollow sashimi."
"Idiot," despite himself, Hiroshi grinned. "You're probably right. And that is why I decided to come here. You're here, and when Takahashi said that he was really liking Ukitake-taichou's rhetoric, I felt the same way. I thought that, you guys came and saved my life, so you were good people to enter squad with. So I did. And I'm glad I did. It's just a lot to take in. I'll be fine."
He rested his chin in his hands. "But that's my problem. We were talking about yours. What's bothering you? This has been your dream for the longest time - ever since I met you or before. Don't tell me it doesn't live up to it somewhere along the line?"
"It lives up to it," Shinobu shook his head. "It's not that. Something else is niggling at me."
"Such as?"
"Well, tell me what you think," Shinobu pursed his lips. "About Kohaku-san. What do you make of him?"
"Kohaku-san?" Hiroshi looked surprised. "Should I make anything of him? He seemed fine. A little more reserved than Kayashima-san, but that's all. Why?"
"You heard how he introduced himself, though?"
"Aizen Kohaku? Mhm. So? What of it?"
"You don't think anything when you hear that name?"
"Aizen? Of course I do, but think about it, Shinobu," Hiroshi spoke matter-of-factly. "This is a Gotei squad. The Gotei killed Aizen Keitarou. The Captain of the Eighth Division sliced him up at Third Division, if all the news reports were to be believed. Thirteenth Division were also a big part of facing down his rebellion, and Ukitake-taichou had been at war with the guy for years. Even when he was at the Academy, if you listen to the rumours."
"Yes, I know."
"Well, then why would it bother you if there was a division member called Aizen?" Hiroshi asked sensibly. "I'm not the only Naniwa in the world, you know. There are other families with the same name as me, but they aren't related to me. Why should we assume all people called Aizen belong to Keitarou somehow? The name must have existed before that - and besides, if I'm right, Aizen wasn't even Keitarou's real name, was it? He was an Urahara. You don't think anyone called Urahara is a terrorist, do you?"
"Well no, but..."
"Then why should someone called Aizen be, just because he has a lousy choice of family name?" Hiroshi shrugged. "If you want to know the truth, I felt kind of bad for him. He looked so uncomfortable when you called him Aizen-san. From what Kayashima-san said, it sounds like he gets a ton of hassle over it already, so let it go, huh? Ukitake-taichou's a smart man, and you heard Kayashima-san. Kohaku-san is Taichou's protegee and ward. That surely puts him above suspicion."
"I suppose," Shinobu sighed, and Hiroshi's eyes narrowed as he had a sudden revelation.
"Unless that's what's really eating you," he said slowly, and Shinobu started, eying his friend in consternation.
"What do you mean?"
"Kayashima-san made it sound like Kohaku-san was a particularly close person to Ukitake-taichou, and Kohaku-san said himself that he'd trained one-to-one with the Captain. I don't suppose you could be feeling, well, a little jealous?"
"Jealous?" Shinobu's eyes widened in dismay, and Hiroshi shrugged his shoulders.
"If not, then fine, and I take it back," he said evenly. "I just wondered. I tease you, I know, but I realise that Ukitake-taichou is a big deal idol for you. I don't have a clue what it was like in Seventh District, before, but I am smart enough to realise you do and that he made a big difference to the lives of people there. If you're just wanting to settle a curiosity, then fine, lets call it settled. But if it's about Ukitake-taichou and people in his trust, keep an eye on it, all right? Because I know you when you get an idea into your head, and that one would not be a good one."
"I am not jealous of anyone, thank you. It's just as you said. I'm settling a curiosity," Shinobu was indignant, and Hiroshi grinned.
"Then that's fine, and we've settled it, so moving on," he said frankly. "It's almost time for our afternoon drill. I don't know what this special patrol is due to be - although I guess it's here in Seireitei somewhere - but if you're right about my skills being good enough, I guess I've got to put my best effort on show and see what happens. Want to come down to the training ground with me now and scout it out before Fukutaichou arrives? It wouldn't hurt and we might get brownie points if we're early."
"Fine. I guess that makes sense, since we don't have time to go take a bath now, and we'll probably need it more after," Shinobu sighed, but nodded, getting to his feet. "But I'm serious, Hiroshi. You focus on getting your nerve back and don't read too much into my queries. You're probably right, so let's call it closed and not mention it again. Not in front of the others, especially. All right?"
"Promise," Hiroshi agreed serenely. "You're my best friend. Why would I betray your confidence? It's safe with me."
"Then let's go," Shinobu scooped up his sword, sliding it into his obi."After you!"
The landscape was quiet, though the wind echoed forlornly through the faded wisps of tree branches, whistling softly as though sending a prayer to the beyond for the lost souls that lay beneath.
The young man stood atop the rise, his torn cloak wrapped tightly around his thin frame as he surveyed his location. There was an odd sense of surreality about the view, he mused to himself, for although his ancestors had lived here, it was the first time he had ever been this close to the Clan heartland. For him, it was foreign land - an alien landscape cloaked in the guise of a place his antecedents had known like the back of their hands. Although it was new terrain for him, slipping over the District Three divide had been strangely nostalgic, as though some part of his genetic structure understood that, without this place, he would not here at all. He had never been one to dwell on the past, but, at that moment, as he stood surveying the landscape, he felt faint tugs at his heart, the wondering of life before a time when the Urahara Clan had been rent asunder by fear.
Below him, at the crest of the land where the central Urahara manor met the fall and rise of the territories beyond, an old stone building had been constructed. Deep within these stones lay the dusty memorials of great Urahara long since passed, but it was not this illustrious past that had drawn this individual here. The tomb that he had come to visit was the most recent burial among all the others - one put in place a mere five years earlier. It had been a solemn, empty ceremony, attended only by the Clan Leader and a couple of his subordinate officers, but it had been conducted with the utmost respect and reverence, and since that day, the peace of this place had not been disturbed.
The soul that rested here may finally have found eternal sleep.
At least, that's why I'm here. And that's what I've come to find out. Even if it's not nice...I've come to make sure.
The figure's lips thinned at this thought. It was night time, but the sky was overcast, rendering the moon little more than a dim haze of light through the cloud. It was not uncommon weather for District Three at this time of the year, yet it seemed to suit the grey coldness of the location better than any rays of sun. It reflected the claustrophobic sense inside the visitor's sombre heart, as slowly he made his way down the winding incline towards the burial vault. As he drew closer, shards of bittersweet memory seemed to grow more vivid in his mind, and the haziness and uncertainty that he had felt at the top of the rise were replaced by something else - a dark determination to find what he was looking for before he lost his nerve.
True, he had not been to the ruling territories of District Three's Clan before, but now finding his way was based on conscious knowledge as well as the drive of instinct. Glancing around him to make sure he had no company, he was both relieved and unsurprised to find the landscape deserted. Not many people chose to visit the world of the dead when there were acts of the living to attend to, and in peacetime, the victims of war were more likely to be forgotten and overlooked. Besides, this particular grave was unlikely to bring mourners from far and wide. Though the corpse had been buried with every respect due a noble Urahara, the tomb's resident had been one of Seireitei's most notorious criminals - a terrorist and a dangerous man who had spoken for the lives of people on both sides of Seireitei's wide social divide. There were only a handful of people in Seireitei now who even thought of him, let alone mourned his loss. In the five years since he had died, the tomb had been largely left undisturbed - a body whose Clan had claimed him, but who had been left to be forgotten among the dust of history.
The youth let out a heavy sigh.
It was done, and done for the best, but I can't help but feel strange about it. Why am I really here, anyway? What will I feel, if he is there? What will I feel if he isn't?
He shivered.
I wish I didn't have to do this, but it's not like I have anyone else I can ask to go in my place. And I have to know. After what happened in Rukongai...I have to know.
He pulled his cloak more tightly around his body, raising the hood so that his face was concealed even more from view. Though he could not sense any spirits on the wind, he was uneasy here. This was the heart of the shinigami territory, and he knew that this place was not safe for him - not now and not ever. Coming here had been unavoidable...coming here was necessary. The memories of the blood-soaked corpses of the Rukon and the carnage that the corpse doll had caused on its hellish rampage still struck a painful chord inside of him, and that nagging fear of familiarity with things that ought to have been buried deep into the past. Buried here, in this place, with nobody to mourn him.
Well, maybe not quite nobody, but that's beside the point.
He rested his hands against the thick wood of the door that was the only break in the carved stone walls. A gentle push and it opened, causing him to start back in surprise at the lack of a lock. But, he mused ruefully, who would come to steal from the dead? The Urahara did not bury treasure with their lost souls, and there was little to be gained from pick-pocketing the dead, for even their death robes were simple and unadorned - plain cloth that would find little value pawned at market.
The Urahara's beliefs relating to death have always been simplistic ones. I suppose this is my proof that nothing much in Clan circles changes, no matter who tries to break the mould. And, it makes life easier for me. I don't have to blow open the locks on a grave site. That would just be adding insult to injury, given what I came here to do.
The figure stepped into the darkness of the vault, letting out a faint sigh as the shadows enveloped him. It was a cloistered and musty hallway surrounded by corpse chambers, another world from the open air of Seireitei that he loved, although this too reminded him of his childhood in a way he preferred not to recall. He disliked being here at this time, although the bleak night sky made safer travelling than the light of the sun. At least it was nice to be in the cool safety of the darkness, he supposed, where people were less likely to notice him, and he allowed himself to loosen his cloak just a little, taking a breath of stale air into his lungs.
Time to get to work.
Though the complex went deeper underground, the chamber that he sought was one near the top of the burial vault, in a stone room that had been built more than a hundred years earlier by a man who had never come to lay here. Though the crest of Urahara Keitsune was painted on the inner walls of the chamber, it had chipped and faded with the years, and the sole tomb that had been carved and erected into the wall held the body of another - Keitsune's only son, Keitarou, the mastermind of mischief who had brought grief to Clan Lords and peasant mothers in equal measure during his life.
The young man paused at the crest, resting a pensive hand against its chipped surface.
Broken beyond repair, and nobody with the time or will to fix it. I suppose that makes sense. I suppose there's no reason why they would, or why I should mind that they let it fall to ruin.
The room beyond was dusty, although it looked as though it had been casually cleaned at some point in the last few months, for the dust wasn't thick enough to obscure the writing on the tomb from view. There were no fancy adornments, simply a basic inscription, written in formal script on the top of a plain stone slab.
"Urahara Keitarou."
The young man murmured the words out loud, resting a gloved hand gently on the stone surface as the full meaning of his being there washed over him. He had come so far, and taken so many risks to reach this place, but now he was here, there was no going back. Tears glinted briefly in his dark blue eyes, but he blinked them back, telling himself that it was dust, and not emotion, that had summoned them. Had he not made his resolve already? Being here was hard enough, without adding feelings to the equation. Whatever his misgivings, this was his only choice and he knew he had to take it. He didn't owe the shinigami anything, and he didn't owe the Urahara, either. But the people in Rukongai, that was different, and he wasn't about to let them be murdered in vain if there was a way to stop it.
Or a person to find that maybe he would be able to reason with, if no other could.
He sank down on his knees beside the tomb, resting his other hand on the surface and closing his eyes. It had been five years ago, and all residual energy from Keitarou's corpse should have been long since dissolved into the ether, but as he sat there, he felt something faintly flickering against the edges of his consciousness, and despite himself, his heart leapt in his throat.
Maybe there was more to his fears than idle paranoia.
And that meant there was no way back. There was only one choice, and now was not the time to be squeamish about it. He drew together all of his concentration, focusing his spiritual energy through the palms of his hands until he heard the soft 'crack' of stone and knew that the plinth had begun to give way. A little more energy and it split from top to bottom, sending a cloud of rock dust up into his face and causing him to cough and choke.
Still, now the tomb was unsealed, the stray wisps of reiryoku made his heart pound in his chest even more. What had he found? Could Keitarou, the man who had escaped justice a thousand times, really have escaped death after all?
Gently, and not without a few misgivings at what he might find inside, he slipped his gloved fingers carefully into the open crack, pushing the pieces of the slab aside until he could make out in the dim light the contents of the unfortunate Keitarou's tomb. Thick fabric, saturated with spiritual energy filled the recess, but as he gently worked this aside, his fingers brushed against the unmistakeable feel of something hard, and he stifled an exclamation, resisting the urge to yank his hand away. Instead, he got a grip on himself, moving the cloth gently until he could see the outline of a person's head, faint in the darkness but clearly visible enough to indicate that the corpse was still there.
He drew his hand back, horrified and sickened by the sight before him, and yet, despite the sunken eyes and greyish complexion, there was a mixture of relief and mystification at his discovery. The man in the tomb was Keitarou, and even without touching for a pulse, the visitor knew that Keitarou was dead. Not wanting to touch the man's body more than he had to, he still knew that the lack of decay of the corpse was unusual. In five years, a man of Keitarou's spiritual potential should have rotted away to nearly nothing, and he had been prepared for a skeleton, or spiritual ashes that bore no particular resemblance to the individual they had once belonged to. To see the ghoulish dead face of a man he had known in life, once so animated and driven in his actions was more than the young man could bear, and he swallowed hard, knowing that his vision was blurring once more, and that this time he could not blame dust for the tears that sprinkled on his cheeks. Sometimes he had feared this man, other times disagreed with him - but at that moment, he knew he could not hate him, and the sight of his dead body was one he would regret seeing - one he would never erase from his mind.
There was the sign of a wound at his throat, not quite covered by the simple, soft robes in which the Urahara leader had shrouded the body, and the figure sighed.
They really did kill you, then. They really did catch you, this time. In which case, what happened in Rukongai...it wasn't you. And if it wasn't you...who was it? What was it? And why haven't you decayed? Is someone using you as a scapegoat...using your spirit power, somehow, to create puppets from the dead? I'm not you, and I'm no genius, but what if they are?
A flush of anger flooded his heart, and he reached into the tomb, his fingers brushing against the small black box that lay at the man's side.
I won't let that happen. You should rest in peace, now. You're dead, and gone, and the world is moving on. They should let you move on too. You need to be reborn. Start again. Live a new life, without all the darkness and the hate. How can you do that when things are like this?
He lifted the black box from the tomb, setting it down carefully on the surface of the stone and fumbling with the catch until the lid popped open, revealing the contents inside. It was a tantou knife, the blade dulled and no longer pristine, but still largely intact, and at this sight, the young man frowned.
Is it this that's stopping you? Chudokuga had the power to make people puppets. What I saw in Rukongai, that sure looked like a puppet to me. If someone is using you...using this...then I need to do something to stop it. I don't really know how to do that, and I don't know a lot about zanpakutou...but I know that this sword should've decayed with you, and it didn't. That means someone could still use it - and I won't let that happen. I'm sorry for desecrating your grave, but it's all I can do. Take it as the last thing I can do for you...let me take this away, and let you rest.
He snapped the black box shut, sliding it, not without misgivings, into the folds of his sash. Then he stood, carefully making sure that the burial was otherwise undisturbed. Carefully, and not without a sense of sadness, he pushed the cover stone back into place, matching up the break so that it was barely visible from the outside.
Pressing his hands together, he closed his eyes for a moment, saying a rough prayer for the repose of the soul of the man inside.
No doubt nobody else will bother, so I'll wish for you to get reborn myself, and hope for the best.
Katsura opened his eyes, casting the tomb one last, sad look, then,
I'll be going then, Father. I'll see to it that nobody gets to use you and your spirit power for bad ends again, I promise. Even if Koku isn't able to help, now...I haven't forgotten my family. And I won't forget you, either. I know my duty as your son, and I'll see it out, so rest in peace.