Leaning against his pair of Third Seats for support as he hacked into his sleeve, Jushiro could only watch as Soi Fon and her lieutenant Omaeda took an unconscious Izumi away.

Chapter 12: The Nest of Maggots

Days spent in this shithole were, at the very least, equivalent going through Hell and back.

The Nest of Maggots wasn't quite a place for the weak. Food was only provided once a day, and that usually consisted of a small lump of rice, hard and stiff, alongside two or three potatoes. Everything the prisoners ate was raw, and, most of the time, unclean. Following the absence of a decent faucet, water was given with the coming of rain, and if there wasn't a storm enough to quench the thirst of the jailers themselves, prisoners would have to suffer through the day without so much as a drop to ease the dry, coarse walls of their throats.

Izumi sat in her own assigned cell, staring blandly into the darkness. The cells were built within the walls of a cave, lined along a rocky corridor and stretching on into oblivion, seemingly endless. On her way here, she had found that the cave sat on a small plateau, shrouded by layers upon layers of canopy so thick that sunlight only reached the undernourished ground through little holes and cracks. Surrounding the plateau was a wide, deep moat that cut off escape and entry, ensuring that the prisoners stayed where they were supposed to be.

Having sat there for hours on end, doing nothing but eat, drink and take a piss in the corner, Izumi was beginning to feel the draining effects of being kept in solitude and forgotten in darkness. With no companion and a bare cell, the Nest was a good place to live if one had the insatiable desire to go insane. She had no idea as to how many days had passed, how many hours, minutes, seconds. She didn't know anything except for the bowl of food and leaking cup of water she had been "generously" provided with. All she knew was that it was merely a matter of time before her sanity left her completely.

It goes without saying that one had to be strong, not only physically, but mentally in order to survive such a place.

Izumi had heard rumours about a certain captain of the Gotei 13 who, up till a horrid accident dating back a century earlier, had been imprisoned in this very cave. From what she had heard, nobody knew anything in regards to the extent of his crime, nor its nature, or even why he had committed it in the first place. The information had been strictly stashed away for fear of ruining the name of the Gotei 13. As the years continued to pass, such knowledge was doomed to be lost in the depths of history. Perhaps only a chosen few knew of the origins of said crime, but one thing was for certain: What he had done, whatever it was, had been enough for him to be christened as the most infamous convict the Seireitei had ever known.

And now he was loose, a former prisoner whom the Seireitei allowed to run amok, despite his branding as being "mentally unstable" and "a possible threat to the Soul Society." Not many knew of how he had managed to escape, and even less about his rise to the position of captain, but some rumours implied that he had received assistance from a "trusted friend." Then again, rumours were just rumours, weren't they? They couldn't be taken seriously, for some of those with vivid imaginations had the power to conjure and weave such fanciful tales – tales that ultimately twisted and changed the course of events until they could no longer be identified, much less be universally recognized as something that had happened in reality.

How the government had let such a criminal escape the deepest confines of his cell and permitted him to straddle the seat of captaincy was utterly beyond Izumi. Perhaps she had been too ignorant, unaware as to the mechanics of the Seireitei's administrative office that she had never really thought about it until now. Saito used to tell her about the Gotei 13, about the thirteen divisions and what duties were assigned to each. His stories had been vague, and seemed to have been concentrated on the Eleventh Division. Yet, he often mentioned that he learned everything regarding the Seireitei, as well as Soul Society as a whole, from the previous Kenpachi. Having been around for gods-knew-how-long, the man was a wise leader, as Izumi had heard, and a great fighter. It was said that he had been dealt a fatal blow by the current Kenpachi for his captaincy, and the members of the Eleventh had gone into indescribable shock as they watched their leader fall before their very eyes.

It mattered not how many times Saito had recalled the tale of Captain Kiganjo being slaughtered by Zaraki – Izumi just couldn't bring herself to believe it. The mere thought of the experienced, weathered leader being defeated in a single strike was too much. This inevitably led her to think of her own captain, Zaraki, and his brat of a lieutenant. Just the thought of the pair made Izumi's blood boil. If the lieutenant hadn't told him about Izumi's swearing, she wouldn't have been admitted to the hospital. And if she hadn't been admitted, then she wouldn't have been forced to deal with being dragged around by that fat lieutenant, and, as a bonus, she wouldn't have met his captain.

In short, everything stemmed from the pink-haired brat herself. Izumi's conviction was because of her big fat mouth and Captain-fucking-Zaraki's strength.

Izumi took a deep breath, inhaling as far as she could go until she felt like her lungs were going to burst. She held it in, counting to five with her fingers, and then let it out, expelling all the fury that had welled up inside of her. And yet, after repeating the process three more times, she still boiled with vexation. Her cheeks felt as if they were heating up with anger, fingers curling upon instinct to strangle someone, anyone. Preferably a certain pink-haired brat.

Sighing in frustration, Izumi placed the half-empty bowl down and lay on her back, stretching her arms and legs until their joints cracked in protest. The ground smelled nothing like the fresh earth that brimmed with greenery outside. It smelled somewhat stale and bitter, dead earth that was doomed to be obscured by the shadow of the cave above it, shielding it from the glare of the sun. In all honesty, Izumi wouldn't have minded if she were to be punished to stand under the blazing sun for an hour or two. At least she'd have some light instead of being kept like a caged animal in solitary darkness.

Izumi let her eyelids drift to a close, but the constant turmoil within her only grew with each passing heartbeat, adding to the anxiety that weighed upon her shoulders. But that did nothing to stop her from drifting off into slumber. In truth, it didn't have to. Sleep had eluded her for as long as she could remember. No matter how much she wanted to pursue it naturally, nothing worked. Thanks to that, she had what everyone called "panda-eyes" and, Izumi figured in disgust, the origins of the goddamned nickname, "Panda-chan."

That brat was going to pay. Izumi was sure of it.

What she needed right then was a little alcohol. Some good ol' sake to calm her jittery nerves and soothe the pain that tore at her chest: The pain of being betrayed. She couldn't remember the last time she had tasted such bitter resentment, but it cut her to the bone to know that her close friend had resorted to abandonment at the last minute. Such people weren't true friends... But if Jushiro, the kind and warm-hearted man who treated everyone as his equal, the man whom she had known for so long couldn't be trusted, who then wasthe ideal companion?

Footsteps echoed throughout the cave, daunting, as a familiar spiritual pressure pattern floated across the atmosphere to reach Izumi's untrained senses. It took a while for it to register in her brain, but when it did, she turned over to lie on her side with a scoff of disbelief. The footsteps grew louder as they approached. Upon reaching her jail cell, they stopped, allowing her to guess that there were two people there. One was undoubtedly a jailer, but the other... Izumi didn't even want to think about it.

The large, thick, brass padlock gave way, the chains that bound the cell door together sliding off in a clanking heap.

"Not more than five minutes, Captain," muttered the jailer, gruff yet stern and respectful, swinging the door shut once Izumi's guest had entered.

When he had locked the chains back in place and disappeared out of sight and earshot, Izumi scrambled to her feet and backed up against the wall, eyes widening to the size of saucers once they settled upon the white-haired captain.

Jushiro, his face expressing unspoken words of relief, held up both his hands with their palms facing her, signaling that he had come without any intent of causing her harm. She noticed that his zanpakuto wasn't by his side, leaving him vulnerable to attack. According to a rule of the Detention Unit, those visiting the Nest of Maggots had to leave their zanpakuto at the entrance with the jailers and enter with nothing but the clothes on their backs. This was due to a safety precaution to avoid any help from reaching the inside, as well as to prevent the escape of prisoners. Visitors had to rely on their bare hands should anything unwanted happen. Those who couldn't cope with that were forbidden to enter the nest.

Izumi felt the heat overriding her as her fingers curled into tight, trembling fists. Jushiro seemed to know what was to come, for he took a step closer to her, hands still raised.

"Izumi, listen-"

"You bastard!" she screamed, voice echoing in the small cell. "What did you tell Captain Soi Fon? What did you say to her? What kind of bullshit deal did you make with her that made you give me up?" She stormed over to him and, with both hands, grabbed the front of his haori. "What did you fucking do, you...you..." Too stunned, she was at a lost for words.

Jushiro gently rested his hands on her shoulders, remorse crossing his face. "Keep calm Izumi, and listen to me." He managed to give her a light squeeze before she pulled away.

"There's no way am I listening to you anymore," she spat, bending over to pick up the bowl. "You, along with that stupid brat and her fucking mother, are the ones who put me here in the first place. If I hadn't joined the Eleventh-fucking-Division, I wouldn't have met those two maniacs. If I hadn't met them, I wouldn't even be here. It's because of people like you that I'm in trouble with the goddamned law!" She launched the bowl at him in blind fury, only to watch as he easily dodged her lousy aim with a tilt of his head. The piece of worn, dirty china whizzed past his right ear and collided with the steel door, shattering upon impact.

Having had enough of her antics, Jushiro pursed his lips and marched up to her, brows furrowed in a stern frown. He reached out, nimble hands creating a firm grip upon Izumi's wrists. She pulled away, only to be jerked back. His hold didn't wither in the slightest, contrasting his frail appearance. Izumi cursed herself as his grip started to hurt, squeezing her skin between the cracks of his slender fingers. She should have known better than to cross his line of patience.

"Shush, Murakami," Jushiro hissed under his breath, fixing his gaze upon hers, unwavering. "Be quiet and listen to me, even if it's just for a minute."

Tightening her fists, Izumi bit her bottom lip and glared up at him. The evil voice at the back of her mind urged her to challenge him and, though the idea was horridly tempting, she continued to bite herself in an attempt to silence it. Despite what the man had done to her, she still couldn't be mad at him for long – partly because she respected him as a captain as well as a friend, and every bit of her silently prayed for his betrayal to be false.

"Are you ready to listen now?" Jushiro kept his hold around her wrists in case she decided to go wild again. He didn't need her temper to make the situation more complicated. Seeing that she was submitting, even if unwillingly, it was enough. He exhaled slowly, as if to calm himself first, and went on, "I didn't come here to mock or pick a fight with you, Izumi. I just came here to clarify our positions. You need to hear the truth, and I want you to hear it from me."

Izumi let out a low growl, tugging at his hold, but deep down she pleaded for it. The truth. She wanted him to finally be open and honest with her. That was what she needed more than anything.

"Captain Soi Fon and I... We had a misunderstanding. She misinterpreted the answers I gave in response to her questions. I didn't know that you were there in the hospital in the first place. It was only when Lieutenant Omaeda brought you into my ward that I finally realized the seriousness of the situation." He retracted one of his hands, placed it upon his chest and peeled away the collar of his uniform to show her the bandages wrapped around his upper body.

"Most importantly," he continued, watching as her eyes widened upon her inspection of his bandages, and he felt the strength in her wrists falter, "you were misunderstood. These wounds stem from my previous battle with my zanpakuto spirits. I had been careless, too preoccupied with the day's work that I hadn't seen their attacks until they struck me down."

Izumi swallowed, heart leaping with joy that it was all just a ridiculous mix-up, but still she couldn't help but feel that something was amiss. She tore her eyes away from the bandages and looked up at him.

"But you were never careless," she whispered, eyes searching his own for a definite answer.

A warm smile graced his features as he let her go. "You should have seen me during my Academy days. I was much clumsier than I am now, and my zanpakuto's shikai only made it all the more worse. It doesn't mean that, because I'm a captain, I can't be careless, Izumi."

She stared at him for a moment, trying to absorb everything that had just been relayed to her. "So Captain Soi Fon made a mistake?"

"Yes, the misinterpretation of information."

"...meaning she got everything wrong?"

"Yes."

Izumi fell back against the wall and slid down to the ground, groaning her relief. So it was just all a misunderstanding? And she had thought that the Gotei 13 was an efficient military organization made up of able-bodied, intelligent men and women. Judging by the way they allowed an ex-convict to run free, the head of the Onmitsukido sentence an innocent, unseated shinigami to the Nest, as well as permit Zaraki to rule a division was enough proof that the Seireitei's armed forces were out of control.

With an old, senile man as its head, who wouldn't be surprised?

Someone pounded hard on the metal door, rudely interrupting their silence. "Your five minutes are up, Captain Ukitake," the jailer called. "Please step outside."

"Izumi." Jushiro grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her until she gathered what was left of her strength to look at him in the eye. "I'll get you out of here. Don't worry, I will. I will speak with Captain Soi Fon and even the Commander to ensure your release. In the meantime, you have to endure the Nest. I can't give you an exact date, but I will secure your release."

Izumi could only nod, dazed at his words. The jailer swung open the door, and the faint light of his torch cast a warm, orange glow in the dark, dismal cell.

"Captain Ukitake." He stepped to the side of the doorway, gesturing for Jushiro to exit. With one last whisper of reassurance, Jushiro left her and, standing behind the jailer, watched as Izumi was swallowed up by darkness once again as the door swung to a close.

Izumi sat there in silence, staring into pitch blackness, not even knowing where her own limbs were. Tilting her head back, she pondered Jushiro's words. The more she thought about them, the more she tried to force herself to believe that the captain was being true. But her doubt-filled mind wouldn't let her do so. It wouldn't let her trust Jushiro, no matter how much she wanted to, and that troubled her. They had been friends for so many years, for as long as she could remember, and yet there she was, having doubts about his promises.

What'd you do, Saito...if you were me?

A small chuckle, self-condemning, hissed its way out of her throat. She wondered what he'd do to her, what he'd say, if he found her in such a state: In prison, having had a beating from about three captains, and being an inmate with "mentally unstable" printed across her forehead. He'd probably bitch-slap her all the way to the Rukon, drag her back to the Seireitei, and then nag her brains out.

She didn't know how long she sat there, musing over what was to come and what had already passed, but when an explosion sounded above her cell, she immediately leaped to her feet and lunged for cover. The roof gave way and collapsed, burying the ground where she had been just seconds before. A long, thick silver blade shot out of the blue, reflecting the sunlight into Izumi's eyes and nearly blinding her. She froze as it came to rest upon her collarbone, pointing its razor sharp tip at her throat. The next thing that made a terrified scream lodge itself in her throat was a large, chubby face like that of an infant filling her line of sight. The only difference between an ugly baby and this one was that it had bright yellow skin and bulging eyes without irises. And it was uglier than a normal baby. The sickening hue of its skin made her wonder whether it – whatever it was – had been poisoned.

Izumi forced herself to look up into the glaring sun. It gleamed over the creature's large head, and when she squinted, the sight that confronted her caused a shock of electricity to shoot through her whole body, paralyzing her from head to toe and all the way to the tips of her fingers.

She had been right to have doubts about the administration of the Seireitei, for there she was staring the ex-convict in the face. He stood atop the beast's head, hem of his white haori flapping in the wind.

With a nod of satisfaction to the young woman beside him and teeth barred in a mad grin, he turned to fix his piercing, golden eyes upon Izumi.

"Take the woman, Nemu. We must make haste before the guards arrive..."


Beta-read by: Laerkstrein