A.N.: I'm back back back again! It's still September so I kept my bi-weekly updates promise! Yay for me, considering I had my birthday, an interview at court, had to sign up for this year in my dorm and another semester at uni, and I'm going through my crush being his dumb self (a.k.a. pulling the i like you but i'm not ready stunt which is worse than i don't like you and proceeding to call me every other day and text me every day, I guess this is why I get to write so well a tortured Kenpachi).

Anyway, egough with my public calling out, let's be positive and call out lildoggo and nenapayo for being awesome readers! I don't really remember how I came up with the idea of adding Kenpachi's mother but I really think it's a nice touch, definitely one of my favourite moments in this fic. I'm certain not many Bleach fans ever realise that we haven't seen that side of Kenpachi's at all, like I'm certain he has thought about it, not very often, but he has, about his parents, who could've they been what had happened to them and what they looked like. He's having a bit of a Leia moment I guess with the 'beautiful but sad' image of his mother, which is not just in his head... Maybe one day I'll write a follow up story to this fic and I'll include her there! But don't get your hopes up...

Now, this is the longest chapter in this fic - over 4k words! Every other chapter that was this big I managed to split in halves but not this one, mainly because there isn't any action (yeah, even less than usual, i know!) which means one thing: FEELS. You may need some tissues but if you do now, I really don't know what you'll need in a few chapters...

Chapter XI: Nunc Scio Quid Sit Amor

The air in the mountain was fresh and pleasantly chilly, laden with the smell of almost summer. The bloom from the trees was long gone but the fruit was still barely formed, small and unripe. Flowers and herbs, however, seemed to thrive.

The sun still hung low, morning mists settled in the fields and covered the forest floor like wisps of gossamer. They had left the house barely before dawn, a little too early to Kenpachi's liking, albeit he was the one who insisted on coming along. He would not bear not to have her around on his day off. So, he let the woman lead him through the mountain's woodland in search of herbs and wild flowers. She knew the way much too well, straying off the paths and going deeper into the forest, deeper than the captain had ever dared think of going. The trees seemed to close in around them, their leaves smothering further the still weak light.

It made him think of how he had heard that mothers scared their children into obedience by telling them stories of witches who roamed the woods in search of herbs for their potions and for innocent victims. Kido was still nothing but magic to him and even traditional healing bordered on witchcraft. Retsu was notoriously profound in both. Good thing he was not a child, nor innocent.

As if she could read his mind, she turned to look at him with a smile on her lips while still walking ahead. Kenpachi could swear there was a grain of truth in those stories; he felt spellbound.

"Can you hear the water? We're close." Her voice was as clear and melodic as the rumble he was hearing. Soon enough he saw a stream right in front of them and Retsu stopped by it, a scowl forming on her face.

"Something wrong," the man asked.

"It seems that the recent rains have had their effect. The water used to be rarely higher than my mid-calf." She reached down to undo the ties of her waraji. "We'd have to get wet."

Retsu gasped when she felt his strong arms wrapped tight around her back and knees as he lifted her off the ground. After the captain readjusted his hold, making sure she was comfortable, he stepped into the cold waters. Her arms went around his neck and she murmured in remorseful exasperation.

"You're making a habit out of carrying me around."

Kenpachi did not know how to respond to this. He liked sparing her from walking when she was weak; from the cold when he could be the only to feel it. He liked how her body fit in his hold. It made him feel that he could keep her safe, no matter how foolish it sounded, given that the first time he had held her she was dying in his arms by the wound he had inflicted on her. He was the only one he knew to have hurt her. He glanced down and saw it even now, peeking behind the high collars of the kimono, a constant reminder of his actions. How can I keep her safe if I am the only one who has ever hurt her? His grip on her remained firm as his calves ploughed the freezing water, no less chilling than his thoughts.

Once on the shore again, the captain let her down carefully, oddly aware of his own heartbeat. Retsu's hand glided over his chest as she was steadying herself as her feet touched the ground. He found himself torn apart between stepping back, trying to hide his rapidly beating heart, and giving in to her touch, putting his palm over her and pressing it down, letting her know how alive she made him feel. In the end, he did neither. She looked him in the eyes and thanked him, before gesturing ahead to where the woodland seemed to glow in blue.

"You see it now. Come with me."

How could he not?

The woods became sparser, the still weak sunlight gently falling in crisp rays. The small plants scattered over the soft turf gave way to taller blue flowers, and Kenpachi recognized them at once. The flowers of the Fourth. Her flowers. Bluebells. So many of them that the forest floor resembled a bright exotic sea that swayed with the wind.

The man stood stiff in his place and watched as she made a several more steps forward and placed her basket on the ground, already full of bear's breech, columbine, henbane, larkspur, nettle and other plants, the names of which he did not remember. Retsu knelt amidst the flowers, a spot of midnight black and brilliant white interrupted by the flashing crimson of her sleeves as she cut through the bluebells' stems with a small knife. The flowers, the rays of light, the serenity and the grasp he felt around his throat. She. Witchcraft.

Her skilled hands placed the bunch and the knife in the basket next to her that was now heaping full. She prepared to stand up but something caught her attention. The woman bent to pick it up and then got up on her feet, holding it gently with her fingers. She walked closer to the captain who was still too enraptured by the view.

"Sankyou. The skeleton flower. Have you seen it before?" Retsu asked, strengthening the spell over him and showed him a bunch of little white flowers that shared a stem and resembled apple blossoms.

Kenpachi answered negatively. He never minded the grass beneath his feet. She held the little plant front of her face with three fingers in and pressed her lips together. When she released them, they were glistening with wetness and she carefully kissed one of the flowers. Kenpachi watched the petals disappear as if her alluring lips had melted the flesh off its bones. The skeleton flower. The kiss of her sword had done this to them, would her kiss do the same to him? He stepped closer to her and stared down at her face and her enticing lips with feverish intensity, willing to be flayed and stripped to the bone.

As if she was beckoning him to finally have a sip of her and he could. He could drink her like a sweet cup of both the poison and the medicine. He could kiss her insane and lay her down amidst the flowers. He could let his lips roam all over her skin, over her scar that she claimed brought her no pain anymore, as if his kiss had healed decades worth of pain. He could take her, he could surrender to her until there was not a single bluebell left standing tall.

The sheer amount of willpower it took not to act upon his wish drained even a man as strong as him. The captain could not have her, not like this, not now, not in any way, probably not ever. He felt a dull, searing ache in his chest.

All he could do was watch as Retsu brushed past him and went to sit by one of the trees, its thick roots protruding the earth before submerging into the black earth. She stared at the basket full of herbs and flowers that she placed on the ground next to her feet, seemingly sinking into a melancholy air. Kenpachi knew the distance between them was too much so he followed her to sit by her side.

When she felt him near her, she spoke, not tearing her eyes from the plants before her.

"It is so strange, so infuriating. I remember the name and purpose of every herb and the meaning of every flower, yet I cannot remember the names of my closest friends."

"You remember most of them. You know who you are and that's the most important thing there is." He knew the pain from the latter much too well. The creeping feeling of hollowness that nothing could ease. Of not having something everyone else had, something as small and simple as a name.

"It's so infuriating, Kenpachi!" Her hands were shaking as she repeated herself. "Everything seems long gone but I know it's somewhere within me, hiding in my brain. As if I'm blind and deaf and isolated and everyone knows more about me than I do. I can sense it, everyone keeping some grand secret from me. Yes, I now remember who I am, I remember Isane, Kyoraku and Ukitake and the trail of corpses behind me but I don't remember anything about you."

Kenpachi pondered why she was placing such importance on him. It only made her suffer. He found himself torn apart. He was the only one earning something from the loss of her memory of him – Retsu was now by his side, something that he thought has always been impossible, and although he intended to care for her, it seemed that he also got cared for. He had woken up beside her twice and every time it felt like being born again. She always does that to me, doesn't she? Making him weak and stronger at the same time. He had the strength to help her carry her burden but he did not know how to offer her that very same help and Retsu was growing distraught.

"I wonder would I find you if I were to crack open my skull or open any vein of mine?"

A knife in his chest would have hurt less than her violent words.

"Look at me, Retsu." The captain turned so he could face her and held her chin, lifting up her face. He could see that her eyes were slightly open but she was looking down and away before she blinked and moved her gaze to him. "You wouldn't do such thing."

"I wouldn't, would I?" she said with a shaky exhale through her and looked away again. What was meant to be a laugh came out of her mouth more like a sob. His hand moved to her cheek and caressed it.

"You'll remember everything." Even me. And the coldness. The silent hatred. You will hate me even more. I took advantage that night, every night and every day, I took more kisses and caresses than I had the right to. I took more than I should have and I'm still hungry for so much more. Her eyes were full of trust. Kenpachi's hand slowly left her face.

"I can't help but keep wondering why did you choose to take care of me? Of this criminal, this woman, unrelated by blood or any other familial bond, who can't even remember you?" He had never asked himself that question. It seemed so natural, to be by her side, to eat together, to tend to each other's wounds. But why indeed, he pondered. They had never been even friends. Was it pity? No. Guilt? Hardly. Admiration? Not only. The blood they have spilt related them far stronger than any family bonds.

There was a lump in his throat, one that Kenpachi could not swallow.

Why are you afraid of acknowledging that you love her?

He looked down at her and their eyes met. Fuck. Love? Impossible. Only the notion of it made him want to laugh. He was not certain he was even capable of feeling love. There was none of it in the Zaraki district. It had always sounded distant to him, a man who had not known neither mother's affection, nor a girl's shy crush.

No longer wanting to laugh, he wanted to get up and run to the living world and back, his body too static when his mind and heart were racing. What he felt now was so sanguinary and so holy; yet raw nonetheless. Even if it was love, it was futile. He could never hope she would ever love him back. She used to hate him, always eluding him, watching him with silent coldness. Love was unreachable and even desire seemed improbable. He would take whatever she was willing to give; he was greedy as that. It was still impossible. He had murdered her. Who could desire, who could love their murderer? Once she remembers me, I'm gonna lose her forever. He could never have her like she had him.

It all made sense. Perhaps he really had the answer to her inquiry. Why? It seemed to be love. Yet the question how she could ever grow to love him back tortured him. He wanted her to love him. Kenpachi firmly believed in changing things with one's own power but all the power in the world was useless when it came to this. He could not make her love him; he could not put his sword to her throat and force her to do so. He could not and he did not want to.

He had heard rumours. The most beautiful woman in the Soul Society was bound to attract suitors. Kyoraku. Ukitake. He believed he had seen the latter's feelings with his own eyes. The late captain's health used to deteriorate frequently so her care had been needed often. Kenpachi knew he was not imagining things. Isane's sister, he forgot her name, liked to voice her opinion on how good a couple they would be. He had heard her once while making his way out of the barracks of the healing squad. She had been there, accompanying her captain. She had described them as kind, humble, dignified and graceful; a match made in heaven, she had claimed, and the medics around her had all expressed their agreement. However, they did not know her like he did. And yet he was the one she kept running from while she spent her time taking care of Ukitake… Zaraki had been quick to make his exit, clutching at his healed wounds.

The list went on. Her previous lieutenant. Some nobleman whose name he had long forgotten. Countless others whose names he never remembered that made him wonder about how much more he did not know. Rumours had it that Retsu had refused all of them, safe for a brief fling with the current commander centuries ago. She could have any man; why the fuck would she choose him?

There was something in her higher than what surrounded her. She liked to read and sing and paint, she was the most beautiful woman in the Soul Society, she was intelligent and well educated, graceful, gentle and skilful; she was a gifted healer and a fearsome swordsman and as if that was not enough – an ikebana master.

What could he offer her in return? He was strong, yes, but had no fortune and no title except that of a kenpachi and she had it already. He had nothing to give her except himself. And what was that? He was gruff, reckless and mannerless, quick to anger. He was not handsome, nor very intelligent. Well-educated? Nowhere near; he could read and write but not without struggle – even Yachiru used to be far better at this than he was and he took pride in it. It may not have been her favourite pastime but for her reading came as natural as breathing.

Kenpachi had been glad when she told him that she had signed up for the ikebana class even if Unohana's name left a bittersweet taste in his mouth. She was a far better role model for Yachiru than he was. His adopted daughter seemed to take a liking to the captain of the fourth division. He remembered that once had not come home hours after dark so he had gone searching for her. Kenpachi had found Yachiru, had found them in the ikebana classroom in the barracks of the healing squad. The little shinigami had been sound asleep against the black-haired woman's soft chest, the latter herself leaned against a wall and submitted to a peaceful slumber amongst the flowers that had been left still unarranged on the floor. Her legs had slipped from underneath her but the fabric of her loose hakama had remained trapped under her weight and Kenpachi could see the milky-white skin of her calves. Her face had been calm and untroubled, her lips slightly parted and her slender fingers had been resting on the child's back. The man remembered something cutting into the muscle inside his chest.

His intrusion had awoken Retsu and she had been quick to look at him mortified and regretful. Her mask had been shattered and gone. She had got up with the child in her arms, cradled to her bosom, and walked to him. The woman would have handed him the lithe form were it not for the small hands that held on tightly to her haori. The captain had realized he had to tell Yachiru who she was named after. He never did. Retsu had tenderly ran her fingers through the pink tresses on the head that had been resting on her breasts.

"Yachiru-chan." Her voice had been clear and calm and she was smiling. Kenpachi had never seen such gentleness. His pink-haired lieutenant had just held her tighter. "You have to let me go, Ken-chan is here to pick you up."

Retsu had looked up to him as she had pronounced his nickname. 'Re-chan', the child had murmured and a whiny 'I don't wanna' had followed but had let go nevertheless. The captain of the 11th squad had scooped her up like she weighed no more than a sparrow and she had rested her head on his shoulder, hanging over his chest like the little monkey she had been.

"Yachiru, I—" He could not remember what he had meant to say and maybe he had never known. He had an unburdened shoulder, perhaps he had to coil that braid around his hand and to pull her close; to lift her up and take her away too. Take her home. She would probably yell and kick and the entire division would come to her help but they could not stand up to him. Only she was his equal – only she could. Then she had spoken thus taking him out of his dreams.

"Never call me that. Don't speak." Her words were cold and sharp as steel but her grey eyes were pleading. "You have to leave."

And so he had.

How could he obey those words, words that even a docile child would not obey? There was this one thing, he realized. Even now, without a drop of reiatsu in her she was one of the best fighters and a skilful healer. Even now, without her powers she still had power over him, like she had always had. Kenpachi looked at her, sitting beside him, bathed in spots of sunlight and lost in thought; she and all her joys and sorrows. His heart wanted to leap out of his chest but he had never felt calmer.

He loved her.

Immediately, Kenpachi knew for certain that was it. The epiphany of it took over him slowly, filling him with joy at first, then vigour and finally desperation. He wanted to tell her. The captain wondered if ever the words would roll off his tongue and come out of his mouth. I love you. Or they would refuse to be aimed at her and instead would make him choke.

"We should probably head back soon. It seems like it's going to rain." The man looked up and saw the dark clouds coming from west, simply humming in response, too transfixed on her to speak.

Her following question was sudden and unexpected.

"Kenpachi, I've been wondering for some time now… Do you know anyone who might have called me Re-chan? A pink-haired little girl, I think, who adores sweets. I used to buy her snacks sometimes. I remember she was dear to me. But I can't even remember her name," she paused reminiscent of her words from minutes ago, "and I can't seem to find her anywhere."

There was only one person who used such nicknames. Ken-chan. Only one with hair so brightly pink that adored sweets so much. The pain of her absence was there, tucked safely in the back of his chest, but still sharp and constant.

"You won't find Yachiru. I couldn't."

"Kenpachi, I…" Retsu could see the hurt in his averted eyes and reached out to touch his hand. So unused to being comforted, he was ready to slap her hand away but he stopped himself, clenching his hand into a fist. Her palm gently covered his fist and he uncoiled it, allowing the woman he loved to console him.

"I am sorry. I shouldn't have asked." Her words were gentle and sincere, merely above a whisper.

The name he said – Yachiru, messed with her mind. It sounded so familiar, so old. But Retsu could not ask further about it. She hated the hurt she saw in his eyes. She believed that pain made you stronger; she was willing to suffer and to hurt if it had a purpose. The end justifies the means. But this pain was meaningless to cause; it brought no strength. It just hurt.

"No." Yachiru disappeared before he could tell her about her namesake. Retsu deserved to know. No, she knew, she even remembered her. Kenpachi would never risk going against Isane's advice. He wasn't to tell her anything that she did not already remember. Her memory would return by itself if it ever returned. Retsu remembered Yachiru. He could speak. He would speak on his own volition. She did not need to beg him nor she could silent him.

"I will tell you about her."

Retsu simply looked at him, ready to hear what he had to say.

"She was like a daughter to me. The only one I could ever call family. Until she disappeared several months ago, during the war. She disappeared the way only souls do – leaving only a pile of clothes behind..." Kenpachi gathered the power to look her in the eyes. He had not spoken to anyone about this. He never dared to bare himself so in front of anyone.

In Retsu's eyes the captain saw compassion and pain. She hurt for him, with him. He wondered in return what she was seeing in his eyes. More pain? Grief? Love?

"Do you know what the bluebells mean?" Kenpachi looked at the flowers in her lap. He had heard it once, he was sure. A long time ago, Yachiru had come home from the ikebana class blabbering about what the insignia of the Gotei mean. Marigold for despair and snowdrop for hope. She pestered him until he remembered what the yarrow meant. 'Fight', she repeated every time, because warriors use it to stanch the flow of blood from wounds. The bluebell was the insignia of Squad Four. Kenpachi shifted his gaze from their overlapped hands to her face.

"Those who grieve are loved."

Silence followed. Kenpachi could feel her bringing him comfort. Her touch always did. Her healing powers went beyond kido. Can you love me? He saw a single droplet catch in her eyelashes and she closed her eyes to the sudden sensation. Another one landed on her cheek, making her look as if she was crying for him. How could she be so beautiful? Retsu opened her eyes and reached out with her palm turned upward. A thunder rumbled in the heavens.

"We ought to get back. Fast," she said and, to his delight, tugged on his hand instead of letting go. The rain poured over them like a curtain, quickly obscuring their surroundings. Hand in hand, they ran through the downpour and the forest. Retsu was fast but the captain was faster, his stride wider and no basket was slowing him down.

"Kenpachi!" Her voice rang, its clarity muffled by the rain. "Slow down if you don't want to get us lost!"

He looked at her stunned and Retsu took the chance to take the lead. The captain's mind was racing; was this a random remark or perhaps…? The thing he most desired and feared. Was she remembering him and his infamous sense of direction? Kenpachi stared at her as they ran but he was unable to see her face, only the black of her slickened by the rain hair.

A.N.: As always reviews are blessings!