Once there was a little boy whose heart was kind but weak. In his youth, to give him bravery, he sold his soul to a great demon, and as he grew into a man with the demon at his side, he became prone to ambition, greed, and jealousy.
The happiness of his friends, loyalty, compassion, it all meant nothing to him anymore, for little did he know, that day long ago, the demon had eaten out his heart and taken its place.
…
It wasn't Ikkaku's wish to embarrass Princess Nemu by breaking their engagement. It wasn't his wish to disgrace his family and his country by backing out of his responsibilities. However, he could not overcome his heart.
He had come this far, had at last made Nemu smile and the two of them could be married, but what once would have brought him great excitement now meant nothing to him, for there was another there in his heart that could not be forgotten as long as he lived.
He'd tried to accept the bleakness of his situation, tried to be a good son and a good fiance, tried to take the responsibility that he knew he must as Zaraki's prince, but the sadness that had overtaken upon Yumichika's absence, it was unbearable.
A month after the announcement of their engagement, Ikkaku could no longer stand it, and became determined to seek the peahens all over the world. He was going to dedicate his life to finding them, no matter how hopeless the search, no matter the consequences.
When he came upon this idea, he went to his father's office and told him his intention immediately. "I'm leaving, Kempachi."
"Leaving where, boy?" his dad asked with some exasperation.
"I'm going to find Yumichika," he said, and where once he'd been scared to defy the Kempachi, he no longer cared if his father might shout or grow angry or throw him out of the family. He no longer cared if he had to abdicate and struggle to survive as a common man. He no longer cared about anything.
The Kempachi gave a long sigh then, giving him a pitying eye, considering him and his stubborn expression for a long time. Ikkaku knew that the Kempachi was so sick of him being a sad sack that he didn't know what to do with him at this point - but as much as he regretted letting his father down, regretted frustrating him and disappointing him, he could not change his heart, could not overcome those feelings. He missed Yumichika night and day with an everaching loneliness.
"You'd been so enamored with Princess Nemu," his father noted calmly, "For months and months you mooned over her and begged me to arrange that you two could meet. What changed?" Ikkaku folded his arms behind his back and looked at his feet for a second, because he did truly regret the scandal he would cause, the embarrassment he would cause her by leaving her at the altar. She did not deserve such scorn.
"Do you not like her anymore? You don't want to marry her at all?" King Kenpachi pressed.
His father was trying to talk him out of it, trying to evoke remorse from him, this Ikkaku knew. What the Kempachi didn't and couldn't understand was that he did feel remorse, but no amount of remorse or regret would change his mind.
Ikkaku stood there stubbornly and would not be moved. "I'll start my journey by the end of this week."
In the following days, the Kempachi tried to talk to him many times, through understanding, even using guilt, but Ikkaku would not change his mind. During diplomatic meetings, when he was training, at dinner time – any time his father saw him, he would say something, he would try to reason with him and convince him to stay.
"A short idyll is easily forgotten, my son. Stay and I'll find you another girl in my empire, any that you wish for."
"There's none I wish for but my sweet love."
"Ikkaku, seriously," his dad said, but Ikkaku just turned his nose up and continued stuffing his face with meat and beer. The Kempachi gave an undignified groan, but Ikkaku merely scowled. Changing tactics, the king grumbled, "How your mother will weep when she hears you're going away."
"I will not be moved," Ikkaku refused stubbornly.
Even threats, though the prospect saddened him, would not change his mind.
"And what of Zaraki?" his father snapped. "Is it to fall to the hands of just any man once I am old and weak? I have no other child but you." Ikkaku pressed his lips together tightly, not meeting his father's gaze boring into the side of his head.
"You would throw away your crown on a fae who toyed with you for one summer." He knows his father thinks him foolish, thinks that Yumichika had teased him, played with his affections and then left him wanting, but Ikkaku doesn't believe that. He'd given up his doubt when he'd decided to do this. He'd given up everything.
"I would throw away my life."
"Our only boy, our only boy in the world," Kenpachi muttered. Ikkaku grit his teeth, grinding his jaws together. "Gone away to die like a fool."
"I wouldn't ask to come back after the disgrace I've caused the family name." Ikkaku met his father square in the eye. "But when I find him and we're together again, I will send word of what's become of me. So that mother doesn't worry."
"A fae, my boy chasing after a fae, where have we gone wrong."
"I will find him at any cost. I will."
It went on in this way for days, but in vain. He would not listen to his parents' advice and made preparations to leave. The day he went, Ikkaku was displeased to see that his ailing mother had gotten out of bed to say goodbye to him when she should have been resting. She enfolded him in her arms and wished him safe travels, and Ikkaku hugged her back, shooting a glaring eye to his father, who stood to the side with his arms crossed and a surly expression.
"Goodbye, Kempachi," he said, bowing to the king when he stepped back from his mother's embrace. More than anything, he wished he'd never had to disappoint him, wished he still felt as though he deserved to be called his son.
"Careful, kid," was his reply. Ikkaku nodded, and felt a heavy slap to his shoulder, and with it, relief to his heavy heart. He met the Kempachi's eyes and found them regretful, but not cold.
"You hurry back," he ordered.
"I will, father."
With that, he turned and walked away from his family, readying to leave his home, perhaps for a month, perhaps a year, perhaps forever. It was a lot easier after that goodbye, knowing that he could come back, that he could always come home.
He wouldn't be alone in his search. Captain Hisagi was being sent with him by his parents. Once they'd accepted that there was no convincing him not to leave, they'd fretted over him terribly, their only boy, out in the world on his own. Hisagi was there to keep an eye on him. Ikkaku wasn't terribly concerned with this. If Hisagi tried to convince him to turn back or slowed him down at all, Ikkaku wouldn't be swayed, and would journey on alone.
Hisagi won't be such a bad companion to have with him, besides. Despite Ikkaku's terrible temper, dark moods, and inconsolable grief in the past weeks, Hisagi had remained there patiently through this hard time, hardly leaving his side. He hadn't particularly helped Ikkaku feel better, but then, nothing had, and he shouldn't scorn the loyalty of a faithful knight.
And, if only to make his parents feel better, to ease the pain he'd caused then by leaving, even if only a little bit, he would let Hisagi come with him to watch over him.
The hour they were ready, he kissed his mother goodbye one more time and then went out into the world to find the peahens.
…
Where months before Renji had been excited and happy to be accompany the family to the Fugai, when he was taken on the journey with his mourning prince, his attitude had long since changed with his current state of abject misery.
He suspected this was yet another cruelty for Captain Hisagi to arrange things in this way – not to mention a way to keep an eye on him and keep him from telling on him to the king or something. Couldn't have that – and so, in punishment and shame, Renji was brought along behind their horses, beaten black and blue and tied at the hands, and on top of it, muzzled like a criminal. It took Renji back to the horrible terror-filled days of his youth after being captured by slavers.
Renji didn't know why Hisagi hadn't just had him thrown in the dungeon, rather than going to all this trouble to torture him psychologically, but well, it made a little sense that he'd brought him – after all, somebody had to do their chores while they traveled.
Prince Ikkaku didn't spare much of a glance for him, too off in his own world to pay attention much beyond what he'd been told by Captain Hisagi. It all was rather horrible, but Renji's broken spirit had mended and filled with an unquenchable fire. Perhaps it was the red flower, the thread that had given him hope and told him that he must live in order to one day find that person on the other end, or perhaps it was the righteous anger knowing that Hisagi had betrayed him and the prince, had brought him so much unhappiness.
Yes, Renji would live, and would keep that fire and that heart alive. He had to hope that this might be put right. His situation was rather dire, but at least, even in chains, he was here to watch over the prince. Even if Ikkaku thought him a traitor, Renji's loyalty would not waver - he would watch over him for sure.
So Renji trudged back there in the dirt and glared at Hisagi's back, glared and glared, bitterness bubbling hot and hateful in his heart.
How could he have come to treat him so horribly? Renji has not deserved this cruelty. He has not deserved Hisagi to lie about him. Look at him there, pretending to be Prince Ikkaku's friend, when he was the one who'd chased his great love away – it made Renji's blood burn. At least his attempts to befriend the prince haven't seemed to be working very well thus far. The prince kept a degree of emotional distance between himself and the Captain, largely rebuffing his efforts at fraternizing, which gave Renji some hope.
He wanted Captain Hisagi to pay for his crimes, to face justice. He knew that Hisagi had betrayed them. He'd used black magic, hadn't he. Renji had seen it. He'd suspected as much after hearing him in the barracks that night, and then seeing the dark presence eat up the fae's hair in payment – and if that hadn't been enough, the way Hisagi has treated him since then and how he'd used Prince Ikkaku's misery to his advantage, trying to move in and be his new best friend, Renji was on to his games. Renji didn't trust him, not one bit.
"Where are we searching, M'lord?" Hisagi asked at last after riding for some hours, until Prince Ikkaku was in a better mood. He was still a bit sullen after saying goodbye to their majesties, the king and queen, but his expression held a quiet determination. Renji lifted his head a little bit then, listening.
"We go to the East where the fae live," the prince said, not even looking at Hisagi. "Perhaps he'll be there."
"Good idea, my prince."
They traveled for weeks and weeks. Renji's back had scabbed over and scarred, but his feet ached and bled since he couldn't stop to take rocks out of his boots with his wrists tied together. Hisagi would only unbind him long enough to start a fire, chop wood, take care of their horses, eat a little bit, and then he'd spend his nights tied to a tree like a disobedient dog. Each time they made camp for the night and Captain Hisagi came to unbind his hands and take the rags out of his mouth, Renji would remain silent, but glared viciously.
The sights were amazing though.
The moment they at last came through the last of the foothills through brigand country and into the East, Renji immediately felt this amazing fragrant breeze hit his forehead, cool and pleasant. As they rode down from the hills, the valley and the sky opening up before them, tears ran down Renji's dirty face, soaking into the strap between his teeth, and he sniffled and wept to himself pitifully.
This place, this wonderful place – he'd stared at the gates in the poverty of his youth for so long, watched so many people jump in desperation to escape the desolate wasteland of the Rukon and be shot viciously with arrows at the foot of the border wall. All this time, people had tried to come to this place, because the East was the place of hope, with flowing water and fresh crops, because the sun rises in the East.
He'd been kept out from birth, and here he was. God, he was finally here.
It was as beautiful as all the wildest stories that had come from the most outlandish ravings of men gone insane from starvation. This side of the mountain was favored by the ocean currents, by the direction of the winds, and the sun shone on this side and lit up the countryside for the better part of the day. The trees seemed to sing, the grass alight with the sun. There were flowers dancing in the breeze about his feet, the sweet beauty of it all causing him to hiccup and sob.
It was as if he'd been wearing a shade over his eyes for his entire life, rendering the colors drab, until he stepped out into the light for the first time. The ground of the path even felt softer under his aching feet, it even seemed to glow and sparkle golden brown in the sun.
Renji's tears eventually dried and he hungrily gazed on everything with the wonder and amazement of a young boy. In the distance, he could see animals in pastures dotting the hillsides, little cottages, the spires of a palace, and beyond that another, and another beyond that.
At last, they seemed on the verge of making their first stop in one of the many kingdoms peppering the countryside so the prince could make some inquiries, ask some favors, and try to find out where his love had gone. Renji isn't sure how long they've been traveling, but he thinks it's been weeks.
Now that they're here though, Renji thinks he doesn't care how long he's dragged along like a dog on a leash. He thinks he could stay here forever.
…
It takes Ichigo several weeks to find time again, but when he does, he wanders out to the same spot, and sure enough, when he finds the lake, the boat was still there.
He'd had a lot of time to think about this during the endless hours stooping in the field with his aching back, with the sun beating down on his neck, with his feet and legs and hands perpetually damp. At last he'd decided what he would do.
The boat held a single wooden oar, had no seat panels, and looked absolutely ancient, but he was going to try and see what, if anything, was out on the other side of the lake.
Ichigo held his breath and put out his foot, gripping the grass on the sides of the bank in both fists as he leaned his body down and tested his weight in it, seeing if the old creaky looking thing would hold him. When it did, he rested himself inside it for a moment, feeling the way it bobbed slightly in the water. Then he kicked at the end of the chain, against the post, until the rusty links snapped, and he floated out over the still and foggy water.
Clumsily working the oar, Ichigo slowly paddled himself along, peering through the darkness, and sure enough, a small island came into view, dense trees surrounding the shore. He made landing and dragged the boat onto the little stretch of sand on the shore, and walked into the woods. There were plenty of trees for him to chop out here, if he was willing to go through the effort of transporting the logs back and forth in the boat.
Before he knew it, he'd gotten himself thoroughly lost under the light of the moon, wandering through the sparse clearings and the thick forest. It wasn't long before he began to hear distant howls and catch sight of eerie figures moving through the trees.
"Oni," he whispered, his mouth going dry and his heart beginning to pound. He had no weapon with him.
He began to breathe hard and stumble as he ran through the woods in the dark, his neck prickling as he could sense he was being pursued. At last he burst out into a moonlit clearing at the foot of a tall stone tower. If he'd had the time to think, he may have stopped and been surprised to see the first sign of any human presence on the island, but terror drowned that all out until much later.
He threw himself in some rose bushes near the base and held himself as still as possible, tried to quiet his panicked and heavy breathing.
Ichigo peered out of the brambles and watched as dark masses with eerie white faces moved through the distant trees. He waited until the sinister cries faded and then made his way back to the shore.
He looked back several times however. He thought he'd heard singing for a moment.
…
Ikkaku didn't have much of a concrete plan to find Yumichika, really, but he didn't let that stop him. He wasn't afraid or resentful or distrusting of the East or Easterners like his father was, and wasn't averse to asking them for help, but then again, he'd never been here before, and didn't know where he should go. After all the tales Yumichika had regaled him with about the Far East, he'd had this vague idea that this was where he'd find Yumichika. Now that he was here though, it seemed a little more difficult.
He did at least know some people from around here though, as they'd paid court to his parents before. He's sure he'll come across someone eventually. Maybe one of them will be able to tell him where he could search for Yumichika.
When he and Hisagi had travelled a long time, they came upon a lake, in the midst of which was a rich palace, and in the palace an empress said to be the most beautiful woman ever to live.
Ikkaku remembered her well enough: Tiger Empress.
He didn't know about the most beautiful woman to ever live. Where he'd grown up, he'd been conditioned to find long, dark, gleaming hair the most beautiful, and hers was blonde like yellow gold. She was older than him by quite a bit too, in middle age by now, but admittedly, still very beautiful.
He remembered her from when he was a young child, luxurious and talkative, and in the time he'd grown into a man, she hadn't changed much. They ride up to her castle, and when Ikkaku meets her on her throne, which was a humongous pile of decorative pillows on a raised platform, there she was, lounging about, her kimono falling about her shoulders, barely tied enough in the front to cover her considerable bosom.
Hisagi stood as straight as a post at his side, but Ikkaku slouched, unintimidated. His father didn't trust her, but Ikkaku remembered her to be a generous and merry soul – that was an Easterner for you.
"What brings you boys here, so far from the North?" she asked in curiosity.
"Tiger Empress, please tell me about the nine golden peahens," Ikkaku importuned, "Do you know about them?"
She replied that she did, and Ikkaku straightened up in hope, perking up. He soon found out that the nine peahens came to bathe nightly in the lake. Once she told him this, she began to try to persuade him with these words: "Never mind those nine peahens, my son, I have many beautiful girls and an abundance of wealth. It will all remain yours."
Tiger Empress had refused alliance so many times with the Hokutan – who probably wanted to join with any area in the East to further enrich the Kuchiki family through trade, but never mind that – that it should've been a tempting offer for a daughter of hers, but as soon as Ikkaku heard where the peahens were, he would not listen to another word.
In the morning, he ordered Renji, who seemed rather forlorn and subdued, to get the horses ready to go to the lake. Ikkaku didn't really know why he'd been brought along. According to Hisagi, he was a traitor to the crown, but Ikkaku hadn't asked why, too worried about seeing Yumichika again to concern himself with a single thing.
…
Once upon a time, a beautiful girl was so loved by a man that he put her away in a tower where no one could ever harm her. She was protected there by a magical spell, but in turn, she may never leave. Placed in the middle of a lake that let into the swamps and the rice fields of the West, she did not see another living soul for years and years.
In her loneliness, she passed her time singing and sitting at a magical loom, weaving an endless tapestry, beautiful and sad and filled with pictures of her childhood friend. Cursed not to look out the window, the most she could enjoy of the sun was feeling it on her back. If she faced it, if she looked out on the earth, she would die.
The single mirror in front of her let her see behind her out the window, and day after day, she waited for a passing bird, for the heavy clouds to part and show the blue of the sky. Day after day she hoped for a visitor, someone to talk to, to play with, to tell her what was going on out there in the world.
Once, after many years of loneliness in her tower, she heard someone pass by outside. When she heard the humming of a young man, the Blue Lady turned and looked out the window and saw him in the clearing, chopping wood near her tower.
Immediately, the mirror cracked into a million bits.
"The curse is come upon me," she whispered.