Chapter Ten: Keitarou's Grave
"It seems such a long time since I came back to District Three,"
Mareiko stepped down from the carriage carefully, accepting Nagesu's hand with a rueful grimace as she almost tripped and sprawled across the brightly polished cobbles. "Whoops! Sorry, Nagesu-sama. It seems wrong that you should hold your hand out to me, being my Clan Leader and all of that."
It was early the next morning and, after leaving Inner Seireitei at the crack of dawn, the carriage had arrived in good time on the front forecourt of the main Urahara manor. It was already looking like being a nice day over District Three, with clear skies and the sound of birds calling to one another as they revelled in the bright weather. It was yet more proof that an aura of peace had spread across the Eight Districts since the demise of the rebel Aizen Keitarou, but for these two individuals, that loss was still something more personal than just the death of a vigilante. Keitarou had been born an Urahara, and, as a very small boy, had once played on these cobbles - a fact which the Clan sometimes found hard to forget.
"In terms of science, I know who is the better scholar," Nagesu shunted his spectacles up his nose now, offering her a grin as he saw her safely onto the ground. "If you get hurt, then our work is delayed and people will be cross. I try my best, Mareiko - but I don't have your genius and that's a fact. That's why I brought you back with me this time. My people have been instructed to make sure there's accommodation readied for you, because I think it will take a few days to find what I'm looking for."
"I'm at your command," Mareiko shrugged her shoulders, gazing up at the main estate with a pensive expression. "You know, perhaps I've never even been here - or if I have, only as a small girl. My memories are so hazy, really, of what happened when I was small. It seems strange to think that someone like me should be welcome in a place like this."
"Someone like you also happens to be my most trusted scientist," Nagesu said seriously. "We haven't discussed the things that we spoke of at the memorial ground, five years ago, but they don't change anything. You are an Urahara, both by blood and by adoption. The only people who know who your true father was are you and me. I haven't even discussed it with my son and heir, nor my wife and daughters. It is a secret between us, Mareiko - but one you should carry no shame in whatsoever. On the contrary, now the dust has settled over the whole unfortunate Keitarou affair, I find it reassuring. My uncle didn't die in vain. He didn't leave this world only with terror and destruction in the form of his son, but also hope and new creation through the work of his daughter. And, legitimate child of the Clan or not, I think he'd be far happier with that state of affairs than he ever would have approved of Keitarou's path."
"Mm. Perhaps," Mareiko pinkened at this, her soft gaze becoming dreamy. "Keitsune-sama is still barely real to me, but I know he was dear to you, Nagesu-sama, and the things you've said about him make me glad to know he was my father, rather than someone who just abandoned my mother to struggle. I just wish I could have used that knowledge to understand more - and maybe, bring Keitarou back from the brink."
"The past can't be changed," Nagesu said regretfully. "Only the future can...as Keitarou's son is a constant reminder."
"Kohaku," Mareiko's eyes became shadowed. "The boy doesn't know that I'm his aunt - or maybe he does. His sight unnerves me, and I don't quite know what he might see if he looked into my soul. I prefer to stay as far from him as possible, Nagesu-sama...his ability is beyond anything my science can quantify, and it makes me uneasy."
"Really? I find it fascinating," Nagesu was surprised. "And he lacks any of his father's resentment, for which we have to be grateful."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"I suppose, maybe, the memories of five years ago are still raw for you. I'm sorry, Mareiko. I don't always think about such things, since Keitarou's betrayal is a burden I've shouldered a very long time. Perhaps we should go settle in?"
He gestured towards the house, then paused, shaking his head.
"No. On second thoughts, perhaps we'll delay that until later. My servants will come collect the bags and take them to their respective places - but if you're not tired, I think a little walk out to the northern point of my estate's territory would be a good idea."
"A walk?" Mareiko looked flummoxed.
"The hereditary territory for the Clan leader of the Urahara borders my uncle's former territory," Nagesu nodded, "and when he died, my father annexed it, and expanded our land to include his. The border between the two is marked by a family mausoleum - one which my uncle had prepared for his own burial, one day long into the future. His body, of course, doesn't rest there - but Keitarou's does, and it might be a way to pay respects to both of them before we get down to properly analysing the paperwork I brought with me. It will be a gruelling weekend - but I try not to forget Keitsune-jisama when I come back here, and I think that, since you're with me, you ought to come as well. Even if he isn't there, now, it's a place I remember him, because he was the one who had the shrine there built."
He smiled.
"I remember him there, once, giving instructions as to its layout," he added. "I was only about six or seven, and he had me holding plans in a blustery winter wind whilst people tried to mark out land. The mausoleum itself is very old, but Uncle's shrine is the newest part of it - and though he never rested there, it's still his place to me."
"His body was burned, wasn't it, because he was executed as a traitor?" Mareiko asked softly, and Nagesu sighed.
"I'm afraid so," he agreed regretfully. "Father did not request the return of his body, so it was disposed of in a general cremation of Urahara felons. I have always regretted that fact - which is one reason why I insisted in bringing Keitarou back here. He might have been an enemy in life, but he was still blood kin, and I wanted to mend that rift in death if I possibly could."
"You are a kind person, that's why," Mareiko murmured. Nagesu grimaced.
"As such, I've been taken for a fool too many times," he owned. "I am not like my father, and people try to take advantage of it. But I am still here, and the world has not yet ended - so maybe kindness isn't as much of a weakness as my father always said. He always made the word sound like an insult - but I hope you don't think so."
"The foolish ones are the ones who betray you, not the other way," Mareiko said bitterly. "People like my Captain, and people like me."
"You didn't betray me. Keitarou used his sword and made you act outside your will," Nagesu reassured her. "You are my ally and I have full trust in you. Don't worry about things like that, Mareiko. Walk with me - I'd like you to see the place your father had built, if nothing else."
He set off along the path, and Mareiko hesitated for a moment, before falling into step behind him.
There are so many things you don't know about my actions five years ago. Things I haven't been brave enough to tell you - things that Atsushi-dono wouldn't let me tell you. I've born the guilt for them on my own, and done my best to make it up to you - but when you say things like that, Nagesu-sama, it just tears holes in me inside. The people who you've trusted have burned those bridges and yet you still can look at me and have no doubts. That trust makes me sickened inside of myself - and that's what I really meant, when I said, 'someone like me'
The border camp lay on the edge of the Urahara's land in District Three, flanking the divide between the Clan land and the Rukon Valley that stretched out below. Lying adjacent to the territory of a failed project known as the Spiritless Zone, this stretch of land had been extended under Nagesu's direct command to create a halfway point between Seireitei and Rukongai, into which, over the course of the past five years, sundry Rukon individuals with spirit power had been relocated. Far from being any kind of prison camp, entry into the border camp was entirely at the individual's discretion, but, with food supplies in wider Rukongai often scarce, the numbers of individuals looking for placement within Seireitei proper had swelled the numbers from a handful of identified residents to close on three hundred registered souls. As a result, the trees that surrounded the area had been so stripped of fruit that they seldom produced any fresh crops, and the problems of food and water that had plagued poorer areas of the Rukon in times past had begun to spread into this little spiritual limbo. Each day, new souls arrived at the camp, increasing the numbers of mouths to feed and the hopefuls looking for Seireitei residency, but, in spite of the increased pressure on supplies, Nagesu and his companions had been loath to turn anyone away. It was the Urahara's way of atoning for the damage done by Keitarou's rebellion, but also a way for the shinigami to acknowledge that the spiritual imbalance in several of these Plus souls was more likely due to spiritual pollution or poor Soul Burial techniques than any other reason, and thus, as a governing power, they had a certain amount of responsibility for seeing that these individuals were taken care of.
For Katsura, the fluid nature of the border camp personnel made it an ideal base camp. There were risks involved, for the shinigami did make frequent forays there, but he had learned their usual schedule and pattern, and had become adept at slipping away whenever danger was on the horizon. While he had always longed to live in Seireitei, he had still grown up in the Rukon, and therefore his sympathies were most of all with the people like those in the village where he had been raised. For that reason, whenever he returned, he did his best to bring with him whatever supplies of food he was able to barter for on his journey.
Although the barrier between Seireitei and Rukongai was strictly lined with powerful Kidou spells, preventing anyone entering Seireitei without the proper authorisation and paperwork clearance, the divide between the camp and the Rukongai side was less strictly guarded, so as to allow people to enter and leave at their own convenience. Some individuals who had come to the camp initially had ultimately returned to the deeper Rukon, deciding that Seireitei was too big a challenge and preferring to eke out their existence in a place they knew, for shinigami often brought supplies and carried out checks on the well-being of Pluses in the surrounding areas. Others had stuck their ground, even when days had become weeks, and weeks months, determined to start a new life in a place where it was possible to grow crops and easily trade for food at market. Several of the residents of the camp had skills they had brought with them from their real lives, such as weaving and carving, and there was a thriving level of barter trade within the settlement, as individuals made do with what they had, and made use of the nature that surrounded their makeshift homes. Katsura identified with this determination towards self-sufficiency, and even when his own food ration was meagre, he did his best to contribute to the people who had never betrayed his presence there, no matter how often he came and went. Normally it was easy to bring them supplies, as his unique spiritual gifts allowed him to hunt away Hollows and thus obtain gifts of gratitude from Seireitei villagers whose homes and livelihoods he had saved. In recent times, however, the Hollows had been scarcely seen, making it much more difficult to make ends meet. In spite of that, Katsura knew he would not let these people down. Though he had always said he had wanted away from the dour hardship of Rukongai life, he could not completely sever the connections of his youth.
In the settlement where Keitarou had run his operations, there were still sundry bits and pieces that had been overlooked and ignored by the shinigami searching for clues to Keitarou's wider schemes. For this reason, Katsura had gone back there, looking for coins or pieces of furniture or other material that could be traded for food at a Seireitei market. His presence there had been coincidental, but although the encounter had been horrific, he knew that had he not been there, many more people would have died.
He gazed at the Rukongai side of the gate with a sigh of resignation.
That fight meant I didn't stick around to grab more than a handful of Father's old coins. His bits and pieces are running short now, anyway, and there are things that he had which, if I traded them, it would lead a path right back to me. As it is, I used my spirit power. I'm hungry, but I have barely any food and I have to share it. And, at the bottom of my bag is the sword from Father's grave. I wonder if I've taken too big a risk this time...but I don't know what else I could do. I'm not a genius, and Father isn't here to ask. If he didn't do it, he'd probably have known how to stop it - but I'm not him, and I don't understand all the things he does. I'm at my limit operating the gate openings he left dotted around the place in order to keep out of sight. I'm not designed to figure out dark and sinister happenings.
"Oniichan!"
"Nii-chan, have you brought us food again?"
"Niichan is here! Oniichan, welcome back!"
As he stepped in through the Rukon boundary, several of the settlement's children hurried up to him, excited looks in their eyes despite the ragged nature of their clothing and the thin bodies that hid beneath the grimy fabric. Despite the gravity of his errand, he bent to ruffle the hair of the nearest, casting her a warm smile as she clung to his arm. He nodded his head.
"I always bring you food, don't I?" he asked lightly. "Why such a greeting? It's not been so long since I was last here, surely? I've been away only a week or two at most, maybe - surely you aren't all as starving as all that?"
"The shinigami brought food last week," one of the older children reported, shaking his head. "We've had fish from the river, too, but the trees aren't flowering, so we won't have any fruit, and the ground is still cold, so it's not possible to grow anything either. Everyone is fine, Oniichan, but glad to see you."
"I like it better when you stay here," the young girl clasped his hand more tightly in her tiny grip, gazing up at him with a wide beam. "I wanted you to come back, Oniichan. It was a long time. I missed you."
"I'm sorry," Katsura's expression softened at this. "I did intend to come back more quickly, but I had another errand to run, and then I had to go to market. It's harder these days, trading and bartering for food. There just isn't as much around as there was before, but I wasn't going to come empty-handed. I made a promise, so I wanted to keep it. Were you really so lonely without me, Homare-chan? Didn't everyone look after you?"
"They did," Homare pouted, "but it's not the same. I wanted to be with you. You promised you wouldn't leave me here on my own, didn't you? I'm always afraid when you leave. I worry you won't come back. You never take me with you...so all I can do is wait."
"If I took you with me, you'd get into trouble, and I don't want that," Katsura rested a hand gently on the top of her head, eying her seriously. "The shinigami will find a place for you to live, and then you'll be safe. You won't need to worry about me any more."
"But I want to be with you, Oniichan," Homare's pout deepened, and Katsura sighed.
"I'm not someone you should stay with," he said sadly. "I've done things that make the shinigami angry with me. If you stayed with me, bad things could happen. It's better you're here, with everyone else. The Ojiichan will look after you, you know that, and nobody would leave you on your own."
Homare didn't reply, instead flinging her arms around Katsura's thin body and hugging him tightly.
"She really is stubborn, that one," the voice of one of the camp's older residents made him glance up, sending the other man a rueful smile. "All she talks about is when you'll get back, Gorou. You were a long time this time, you know. None of us know what the dangers are out there...and we do worry that you put yourself at risk, bringing things here for our sake."
"I like doing it," Katsura admitted, gently disentangling Homare from his body with a grin. "It's hard to explain why. Maybe I feel it's a debt I owe...I don't know. My debt is pretty heavy, so I'm sure it can't be repaid by bringing some people food and supplies. But I do believe in helping you. I'm from Rukongai too, you know. We're not so different, really."
"Yes, but you are different. We all know that," the old man said pensively. "We all know that you aren't like us, and aren't dependent on this place or the barrier. You help us, and we don't ask questions. We all know that Gorou isn't your real name, but none of us ask to know what it is. How many of us here really know what our true names are, anyway? We are the people we are, and we don't mind. Still, if helping us puts you in danger..."
"Believe me, this is the least of my issues in that department," Katsura said ruefully. "In the meantime, I did bring food. Don't question it, because I like to do it. It's never a burden. Please don't think it is."
"You've lost weight, and you look tired," the old man said critically. Katsura shrugged.
"It's not been the easiest trip, but I'm here now," he reflected. "Have the shinigami been recently, or are they due?"
"There wasn't a patrol at the normal time this week, so we don't know," the old man frowned. "We expect they may come anytime. Your help is appreciated as supplies are running low, but you may want to make your visit short and sweet until they're gone."
"I may," Katsura's lips thinned, and Homare glanced up at him sadly.
"Are you going again, Oniichan?" she asked plaintively, and Katsura sighed.
"Not immediately, but perhaps, for a little while," he hazarded. "Just until the shinigami patrol has been."
"But Oniichan..." Homare began to protest, and the old man tapped her gently on the shoulder.
"Don't, Homare," he chided gently. "You know that this is how it is. I know you love Gorou - we all do. But this is part of keeping him safe. You know that too, don't you?"
"Yes," Homare admitted reluctantly, kicking her feet absently against the dirt. "Yes, I know. But I like Gorou-niichan to be here with me. The shinigami don't seem like bad people. I don't understand why they'd be angry if they knew Niichan was here."
"The shinigami aren't bad people. At least, the ones who help you don't seem to be," Katsura shook his head. "It's complicated, Homare. Please don't ask me to explain it...it's better that you don't know."
He gazed around him with a thoughtful look.
"There seem to be ever more of you, though. How long since the last settlement? Surely there must have been one since the last time I was here."
"The shinigami who came last time said they were having trouble allocating more space in Seireitei," a lean, gangly young man sauntered up to join them, holding out a hand to the young girl, who sniffed, turning up her nose in a pointed way at his attempt to distract her. "I'm sorry, Oniichan, if Homare was bothering you. For some reason she's obsessed with you. She won't listen to anyone else."
"She never bothers me. None of the kids do," Katsura remembered the scene of carnage in the Rukon valley, and his eyes became shadowed and sad. "Here may be crowded, but it is, at least, safe. You don't get hurt by Hollows here."
"The shinigami's barrier keeps them out," came the reply. "But all we can do is wait, and hope we can manage on the rations we have. People come here still, every day...but with nobody leaving anytime soon..."
"Supply and demand, huh." Katsura pushed the memory of the massacre from his head, lifting the sack of food from his shoulder and setting it down in the centre of the settlement. "Ojiisan, I hope I've brought enough for everyone to have at least a little. I can only carry so much, and I hadn't realised how the numbers here had grown."
"The little ones need it especially, if they're going to grow up and live proper lives over the other side of that barrier," the old man shuffled up to take the bag, resting his stick against the ground. "I can take care of that, if you want to take a moment to rest. You do look very tired...more so than usual."
"I had to use my spirit power a little more than I expected, this trip," Katsura grimaced. "If the shinigami are due, though, I won't take too many risks. If I can leave the supplies in your hands, I'll take a wander around the village and see what the situation is. See that everyone has a fair share of things, Ojii-san. I know they'll listen to you, if you tell them what is what."
"I do my best, my lad," the old man nodded, offering a warm smile. "Your kindness is never forgotten, I'm sure, not by any who ever pass through this place."
"Tell us again about Seireitei," the eager Homare begged, as the old man opened the sack, and he and the young man who had spoken earlier began to sort the contents into small, evenly distributed piles. "Is it really all green and beautiful? With trees of fruit and fish and vegetables growing and all kinds of things at market to buy and sell?"
"All those things," Katsura agreed. "But it's hard work too, you know. Finding a good village and settling there is the first step. You should listen to your elders and learn what you can from being here. There are lots of smart folk in this camp - people with skills they can teach you. In Seireitei, it helps to have a skill you can sell. Weaving or painting or making jewellery...any of these things can help you find food, so don't forget, all right? The world gives you back what you give to it - and to other people in it."
He patted the young girl on the head.
"I can't stay long," he added. "I'll walk the village, and then I'll go. If the shinigami haven't been in a week, they'll doubtless come soon. It's better I'm not here when they are. I'm not meant to be here, and it would be trouble for you if I was."
"Can I come walk with you, Oniichan?" Homare begged, but Katsura, mindful of the sword in his pack shook his head.
"I want you to help with the food," he said gently, smiling at her disappointment. "Don't look like that. If I have to slip away, it's better you don't see me go. I'll come back, I promise - I always keep that promise, don't I?"
"Yes," Homare agreed reluctantly. "All right. I'll help. Because Oniichan asked me to."
"Good girl," Katsura's eyes twinkled. "Then I'll leave it in your safe hands."
"You're always welcome here, you know," The skinny youth glanced up from where he had been helping the old man sort food, and Katsura sighed, shrugging his shoulders.
"Maybe, but not where they're concerned," he said cautiously. "It's better this way."
"Well, so long as we keep your secret, you keep bringing us food, so it's not for us to argue the particulars," the old man said comfortably. "Go do as you must, my young friend. Your presence is welcome here among the people who know you and understand what a kind soul you are. Shinigami or otherwise, we are grateful to you, and the effort you go to on our behalves."
"Well, it was something my mother believed in, and it's not like she's able to help people in the way she used to, now," Katsura said sadly. "Thank you, Ojiisan. I'll keep your words in mind, and I won't forget to come again, next time I have supplies."
He bowed his head towards the old man and Homare, then turned, making his way carefully between the thronging crowds of people who had begun to gather, eager at the promise of food, however meagre the rations might be. As he picked his way between the makeshift wooden houses, Katsura could see the wear and tear from the elements on the outer walls of the buildings, and the worn patches of earth where feet had worn away the grass. The trees flourished with new leaves, but there were no flower buds on the plums or the cherry trees, and Katsura knew that they would probably not yield a crop again this year. Nonetheless, despite the hardship, he was heartened by what he saw. The people, though thin, were lively and positive, laughing and jostling together as they gathered to receive their share of the food. There was no desperate fighting for every morsel, and, though their feet were bare and their clothes faded and worn, they were generally better off than some of the individuals in the poorer areas of slum Seireitei he had encountered on his travels. While the Shinigami and the Clans had worked hard to fix the economic holes in their Districts since peace had been settled, there were still those who struggled to make a living, or who, through disease or the hardship of nature's disdain had been forced to start again from scratch and scramble even to find food and shelter. Katsura had done his best over the previous five years to help these people, and he knew that the potential of those in the border camp to follow their example was high.
But the shinigami aren't letting anyone in until they find places to settle them. That means that, although here is busy and food rationed, they won't be forced to fend for themselves. That's something at least. Koku, I guess your shinigami are on the right side, after all. Father was wrong - they aren't demons. They're just not perfect, and there are no perfect answers to this world's problems, anyway.
He ducked behind the row of buildings, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that none of the settlement's residents had followed him. They were all intent on the food he had brought, however, and so he fumbled with his sash, pulling out the sleek black box he had taken from Keitarou's tomb and gazing at it with a pensive, bittersweet expression.
This problem is one I still don't know the answer to, but for now, this will have to do.
Crouching down on the ground, he scooped away the loose, dry earth from beneath the foundations of the house, creating a narrow gap just big enough to conceal the box. Carefully he slid it into the hiding place, gathering the dirt up behind it until it was completely hidden from view. Clapping his hands together in a moment of superstitious prayer, he sighed, lowering his hands and letting out his breath in a heavy rush of air.
Nobody would think to look for a sword like that in a camp full of transients. The people who come here aren't staying here longterm, and none of them are particularly close to the shinigami. It should be all right, here. Nobody will mention it, because nobody knows about it. Besides, the people here have known me for ages, yet they've never given me away before. There's no reason to think they'd start now.
He turned his back, making his way slowly around the perimeter of the camp as he continued his examination. Here he was close to the Kidou line set up by the shinigami to prevent illegal entry into Seireitei in the absence of the Sekkiseki wall divide, and, although he could not see the spells that had been erected here, he could feel the prickle of their energy pervading the atmosphere. Although he believed in free movement, and disliked the idea of keeping people corralled, at that moment, he was glad of this trace of shinigami energy seeping into the general atmosphere.
Chudokuga has been dead five years. Intact it may be, but its spiritual presence inside of the case is feeble. With the spells hereabouts, and the individual specks of reiryoku from the local residents, it's unlikely anyone will ever pick it up. It really is the only place I have to hide your sword, Father...I wonder if you'd approve of this, or whether you'd be chastising me for getting involved at all.
His eyes narrowed, and he rested his hands on the worn trunk of one of the barren cherry trees, gazing up at its budding branches.
Whatever that creature was, back in the old village, I don't want to see another one. If it has something to do with your sword and the puppet skills you had, I want to make sure that connection is severed. Here, behind the shinigami's barrier, is a good place. It's a difficult place for people from Seireitei to get to, and nobody from Rukongai is going to be manipulating gateways and making puppets of dead men. Whatever it was, I want it to be a one off. Until I find out what happened, and why, I can't take any chances. That means Chudokuga stays here, in the border camp. And I'll go underground until the way is clear, and hope that I never encounter anything like it ever again.
It had been almost five years since the last time Nagesu had been here, and yet, as he gazed up at the stone frontage of the old Urahara burial vault, he felt a sense of deep nostalgia washing over his senses. He had taken the unexpected decision to bring Keitarou's corpse here after the insurrection, and, although he had faced some opposition from more conservative members of his family, he had pushed the issue until he had, ultimately, got his way. Keitarou had become a bitter enemy and a man better dead than alive where Soul Society was concerned, but, deep within Nagesu's heart, he was still the little, muddy-haired boy that had so eagerly paid attention to every detail of the world around him. Up at the manor, Nagesu knew that Keitarou's childish first scribing of his name was still scratched into the stone, an irreplaceable reminder of the childhood neither of them had been allowed to have, and, although he had brought his cousin's corpse here after death, somehow Nagesu felt that it still wasn't really enough.
He glanced at his companion, taking in the clouded and thoughtful look in her clever, pale eyes. Mareiko was illegitimate, born to his uncle outside of wedlock, although this detail remained a closely guarded secret between them. Not for the first time, though, looking at her, he reminded himself how much he had come to rely on and trust those who were outside the boundaries of the Clan - and how, festering beneath the surface of the Urahara, were secrets and lies that had almost destroyed Seireitei once, and, maybe, would do so again.
He let out a heavy sigh, and, at the sound, Mareiko raised her head, a quizzical look touching her features.
"Nagesu-sama? Is something wrong?"
Nagesu offered her a wry smile, shaking his head.
"This place always makes me remember, far more than any other, how restricted and limited we are in this life," he said reflectively. "It's nothing, Mareiko. Just my meanderings about the past, and no more than that. A Clan Leader is a fallible and useless figure when faced with death and betrayal. Such lessons are frequently made clear to me...but whatever else may change, this place is the same as it ever was."
"I've never been here before," Mareiko admitted, resting her fingers against the aging stone of the outer facade. "I'm not sure I should be here now. This is the crypt for the most important members of the Clan. I..."
"You are my cousin, Keitarou's sister, and my uncle's daughter," Nagesu cut across her, shaking his head. "Besides, I have invited you here. You needn't feel uncomfortable."
He sighed again, gazing up at the stone.
"Well, no more than I do, perhaps," he amended."My father sleeps here, and his disapproval seems to seep through the marble and stone irrespective of how many years he's been dead. He and I would not have agreed on much - and sometimes I think of him in anger, other times with regret. He would not have sanctioned my bringing Keitarou here, I'm sure - but I want to seal the gaps of the past and move forward. Come, follow me. The tomb space built and designed by my uncle is through the main archway, but along a passage to the left."
He gestured, and Mareiko bowed her head, obediently following him into the cool darkness of the stone construction.
As Nagesu had said, Keitarou's tomb was not far ahead, in what was obviously a more recent part of the ancient complex. While people came each week to dust the ancient tombs and set new incense or flowers about the shrines, Keitarou's tomb had been left abandoned and ignored since the day he had been laid here, and so, as Nagesu stepped into the burial space, he coughed, waving away the dust that had gathered over the previous five years. There was a sweet, faintly pungent aroma that hung in the air, and, glancing up towards the rafters, Nagesu saw evidence of cobwebs, dry and abandoned by their former hosts. Somehow, for a man whose sword spirit had been a spider, this seemed strangely appropriate, and a sad smile touched Nagesu's lips.
"The spiders have found him, here," he murmured. "I wonder whether he would have approved of that."
He moved to light the chamber's regulation kidou lamp, illuminating the surroundings in a dim haze. As the bluish flame flickered up the stone walls, Mareiko let out a surprised gasp, darting towards the tomb in sudden surprise.
"Mareiko? What is it?" Nagesu turned, casting her a confused look, but his companion did not immediately respond, instead crouching at the side of the stone tomb that stood proud and abandoned before the shrine. Carefully she ran her index finger over the surface of the stone, her brows knitting together in consternation as she did so.
"Nagesu-sama, I think this is broken," she said at length, raising her gaze to her confused Clan leader's. "Was it so when you had Keitarou laid to rest? I wondered at the smell in the chamber, but a crack in the coffin might explain it."
"A crack?" Nagesu was at her side in a moment, all thought of spiders and contemplation forgotten at his comrade's surprising announcement. "I checked the stone and everything properly, before he was laid to rest. An unsealed tomb is a bad thing in a place like this - I would not have allowed any cracks or breaks, and I came here after the rite was over, to light incense for his soul. There was no damage to the tomb then, I'm certain."
"But there's no doubt about it now," Mareiko tapped her nails against the smooth marble surface. "The characters for his name are damaged. The 'Ta' of Keitarou has been cracked right across - it's how I noticed something was wrong."
"You're right," Nagesu's eyes narrowed behind his glasses, and he rested his index finger against the broken kanji with a frown. "I can think of no natural occurrence to cause this. I haven't released Sekizanha in some time, and there's no natural seismic activity here in Third District to account for it."
"Vandalism?" Mareiko's expression became anxious, and Nagesu's lips thinned.
"It's not impossible," he admitted. "Keitarou is unpopular, and a lot of people were against his being buried here. I had to fight to get the ruling through the Urahara court, with all the problems he had caused us. Still, if this was a case of vandalism, you'd expect there to be more damage. It really looks as though something heavy fell on it, or a tremor passed through it...it doesn't look like someone with a grievance came to smash it up."
"No, but, Nagesu-sama, I think I can feel the threads of something else here," Mareiko's earlier discomfort had disappeared in the light of a scientific mystery, and she crouched closer to the stone, running the palms of her hand across the surface pensively. "It's hard to make out; there's so much spiritual corruption, but it feels as though something broke it. Some...kind of a spell, or...no, maybe not a spell. It's not properly formed enough for that. Just...the sense that something else was here, and that something else caused this crack."
"Something unformed, but spiritual?" A cold chill ran down Nagesu's spine at his companion's words. "You don't think...Keitarou's son...?"
"Kohaku?" Mareiko looked startled, and Nagesu hunched down at her side, shaking his head.
"Katsura," he replied grimly, spreading his own hands over the stone as he tried to pick up the broken fragments of raw spirit energy. "He's disappeared, but five years is nothing for a kinsman of Keitarou. We don't know where he is, or what he's doing - but he had no formalised way of using his spirit power. All the accounts of him indicate that he used untrained energy to fight. You said it wasn't a spell, so we can't rule out the possibility that he came here."
"And damaged his father's grave?" Mareiko sat back on her heels, and Nagesu shrugged.
"The tomb needs to be properly examined," he said heavily. "I'm sorry, Mareiko. I brought you here to pay respects to your dead brother, and not to begin a new mystery."
"I don't mind," Mareiko admitted. "If my science is of use to you, then I'll use it as best I can. Will you allow me to be involved in the investigation? As you said, Keitarou was my brother, and..."
"I would be indebted to you if you were," Nagesu agreed wearily. "You picked up the anomaly quicker than I did."
"With the amount of spiritual corruption in the air, I would suggest this happened recently," Mareiko got to her feet, dusting down her robes. "I think that's a sign of the coffin seal having leaked, and thus, Keitarou's spirit remains are tied up in the aura here."
"We should leave here. I'll have the place sealed, and summon Shiketsu to help you with your investigation," Nagesu suggested. "I will, of course, assist - though I must deal with my family first. But, if you are right, and this scent is decaying spirit matter, then it does mean, at the very least, Keitarou's corpse is probably still within the tomb."
"Shiketsu-sama and I will begin investigating what we can as soon as possible, and I am willing to remain here until he arrives," Mareiko suggested. "Nobody will get in here past my kidou, and I should like to make a more thorough examination of the tomb and...I'm sorry, sir, but also its contents. That might not be pleasant viewing...and I think...I would rather do it alone."
"Are you sure?" Nagesu glanced at her in surprise, and Mareiko nodded.
"I am indebted to you as my Clan leader for many things," she said frankly. "Probably, I'll never find all of the words to explain to you my gratitude. But, when it comes to science, I can start to repay that debt a little. You knew Keitarou. Even if he was my sibling, I did not. You remember him as a child...I have no such nostalgic connection to him. He was a rebel to Seireitei and his corpse lies here. As a scientist, I can examine his remains in such a detached way. However, Nagesu-sama, you brought him here. I think...maybe..."
"I would find it harder to be objective?" Nagesu asked, and Mareiko inclined her head apologetically.
"I mean no disrespect," she added, "but I think...that this way would be best. I will inspect the tomb thoroughly, and, when Shiketsu-sama arrives, we will carry out proper tests and obtain some answers. Keitarou is nothing to him, and nor is he really anything to me. You are our Clan Leader and we will report to you when we have findings...with your permission."
Nagesu rested his hand on the other shinigami's shoulder, sending her a wry smile.
"You owe me nothing, but I am grateful for your offer and will accept your kindness in undertaking this task immediately," he replied. "You are the best person to get to the bottom of this - if Aizen Katsura is once more on the loose, we need to know about it. For now, though, this is a secret and must not be divulged to the wider Clan, or the Gotei. We need answers, first, before we create panic. It may be nothing at all, and we must be sure."
"Yes, sir," Mareiko bowed her head in acknowledgement of the instruction.
"I will tell Shiketsu the same," Nagesu bit his lip, glancing back at the tomb. "Even dead, my cousin continues to haunt me and the future of this family. I hope we are overreacting, Mareiko - but I greatly fear that we are not and, after all this time, Keitarou's son and heir is making some kind of move."
Author's Note
Introducing Homare :)
Also, I am packing up to return home in the next few days. I shall probably have deep Japan withdrawal when I arrive back in cold and wet London, so take pity on me :/