Chapter 12 – Remembering Those Fallen

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China
Northern Plains

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Time stood still as Jushiro, Ikkaku, and all other soldiers present looked at Komamura's lifeless body, mourning for him. After a one heavy and silent minute, Jushiro withdrew a small cotton cloth. Leaning over, he wiped Komamura's face free of sweat, saliva, dirt – anything that marred the face of a brave and loyal commander – and gently closed his eyelids. Komamura looked peaceful; he could've been sleeping. There was nothing that told of his agonising death.

Jushiro's eyes swept among the small assemblage of soldiers remaining. All the soldiers that came with the commander were all minors. He turned to Ikkaku.

"Ikkaku, take Commander Komamura's body and the rest of these soldiers back the resting spot. Put Captain Tsukabishi in charge and meet me in the forest." He mounted his stallion as Ikkaku acknowledged his commands. "And let no one disturb the Commander's body," he said with a steely voice before departing.

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Northern Plains
Forest

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Jushiro tore through the thin forest, avoiding collision with its trees due to years of experience. The hooves of his stallion left deep markings in the earth as it stampeded through the undergrowth. All the while, with the near-naked trees passing by as bland, greyish blurs, his mind was thrown into an unusual state of panic.

How did this happen?

He reached the small alcove – the source of the unpleasant turn of events – and pulled into an abrupt halt. Dirt flew everywhere. Without waiting for his stallion to come back down on all fours, he jumped off and walked swiftly over to Iba, who was standing near a collection of unmoving bodies, laid out in neat rows. He slowed down, eyes widening as he caught sight of lolling tongues, swollen throats and the whites of dead eyes.

"General, there was nothing any of us could do." Iba bowed his head in regret.

It felt as if something was lodged in his throat. Jushiro struggled to form coherent words. "H-How – how many?"

"Omaeda and Yamada are still searching for the rest of them. Aside from the few that accompanied the Commander…none survived."

Iba's head dipped down even further, but Jushiro turned around from him and the rows of the deceased, and made his way over to the campfire. The fire was extinguished, leaving nothing but a pile of charred wood and ashes, but the large cooking pot was still hanging. It was empty. Lightly, he pressed his fingers against the metal, dull from overuse, and found it was slightly warm. He lifted it up and inspected every surface. When he was certain that no information could be gained from it, he set it back down.

There was a sound of padding footstep and a moment later, Marechiyo Omaeda and Hanataro Yamada appeared in the alcove. Slumped over each of their backs was another body of a dead comrade. They carefully set them down next to the others.

"Lieutenant General Iba, these are the last two." Hanataro's eyes slid over and caught sight of Jushiro. "A-ah, G-general Ukitake! U-um – h-h-hello?"

Jushiro nodded in response, but he could not waste any more time on pleasantries. "Omaeda, Yamada, did you not drink any of the water."

"We did not," replied Marechiyo while Hanataro nodded profusely in agreement.

"Why did you not drink any of the water?" Jushiro questioned further.

"A-ah, s-sorry, General Ukitake – but some of u-us – slept in." Hanataro looked sheepish in admitting it.

"Very well then, today was your lucky day."

Jushiro questioned no further and resumed his search. He had no doubts that Marechiyo and Hanataro were telling the truth, but he couldn't afford to let his guard down. Something was missing.

As his eyes searched the grounds littered with bark, pebbles and decaying leaves, a large section of bright green caught his eye. He knelt down and brushed away at the dirt concealing the whole. It was a bright green leaf, arrow-head shaped – the one of bittersweet nightshade. Lying next to it was a small black feather.

Iba walked over. "General, what have you found?"

"The answer." Jushiro picked up the leaf and the feather. "This was Aizen's doing. This feather is his mark. He leaves it wherever he has caused suffering." He paused for a moment, staring intently at the items. "No, it is impossible that he was here, but I have heard stories about a pitch black bird that does his bidding."

"General! When I was here earlier, I saw a black falcon! Do you think that was it?"

"It is very possible. There are few birds in China with a black plumage." Jushiro drew himself back to full height with the leaf and feather in one hand. He picked the leaf out. "This is a leaf of a plant known as bittersweet nightshade. It is poisonous…but rarely fatal."

Iba remained silent, but the silence did not last long as Ikkaku came bursting into the clearing. Before Ikkaku could even dismount, Jushiro spoke. "I apologise, Ikkaku, but you will have to go back and have the rest of the army come here. A proper burial must be given to the fallen."

"B-but General." Ikkaku looked dumbstruck. "We can't afford to waste time. China is on the verge of being captured!"

"Ikkaku, we will not dishonour these soldiers by leaving their bodies here for people and animals alike to do as they wish with them. They will not be subjected to that."

"My – my apologies, sir."

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With the remaining army working together, the bodies of the deceased were all buried by midday. There was not enough room to bury them all in the alcove, so they spread them out like sentinels. Jushiro stood by the largest grave – the one of Commander Sajin Komamura – and faced his soldiers.

"The loss of so many lives is a tragic event, one that will never be forgotten, no matter how much we may want to forget. But let us keep this memory alive in our minds and use it to fight against the one who brought about this pain and suffering. Let us not forget that these men died to protect China, our homelands.

"While our numbers have fallen, our determination has not. Let us show Sosuke Aizen and his army that the imperial army is not to be taken lightly. We will not allow ourselves to be succumbed by this! We will not fight to our last breath, but we will fight and win! For the sake of our fallen comrades, for the sake of our friends and family, and for the sake of China, we will emerge victorious!"

The roar that followed was deafening. It scattered the birds into the air and made trees shiver. Every soldier was primed for battle, and for victory. Jushiro mounted his stallion, and with a thundering shout, led the imperial army charging towards the Honshu Mountains.

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China
Honshu Mountains

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Night had long fallen, but the biting temperatures did not fail to drop. The imperial army had no choice but to camp in the shadows of a large cliff. Luckily it did not snow. All they had to do was sweep away the thin layer of flakes that covered the frozen grounds. They had made tremendous progress, perhaps even more than usual. Jushiro's speech had endowed the soldiers with unmatchable determination.

The Honshu Mountains were quiet, with not even a distant owl's hoot, until the softest of footsteps broke it. Jushiro – previously sitting in the cover of darker shadows – had moved out into the open, where the dim moonlight was free to hit the earth. It exposed his troubled face.

Earlier – and it pained him to admit this – his speech had been purely to install hope back into his soldiers, and to stop fear and discord from infecting them. He had to give hope for his soldiers, for without it they would stand even less chance of surviving the inevitable encounter than they did now, with numbers reduced. It would do no good now, to tell them that chances were looking grim. So while his speech motivated his soldiers to no end (even the usually timid Hanataro, who was an able fighter, but an excellent healer), it failed to do the same for him. Being the general of China's main armed forces, he had seen and heard things beyond normal comprehension.

Sosuke Aizen: at the age of twenty he led a group of five into the small costal village of Jiang'he and obliterated it; aged twenty-six, his army expanded to five hundred, he conquered Yuan Bei, one of China's major trading cities; aged thirty and he made his first attack on Chang'an. In the end he was forced to retreat, but a heavy price was paid. Among the thousands and thousands of casualties, Jushiro's wife was one of them. He knew of the brutality Aizen possessed.

Most of Chang'an was in flames, thick spirals of grey smoke rose perpetually into the sky, blackening it, befitting it for the events happening below. Red and orange consumed all it could, never full, greedily reaching out for more and leaving nothing but destruction behind. The roaring of the great fires were all but drowned out by screams of terror.

Streams of frightened citizens fought to find sanctuary outside the walls of the imperial capital. They weaved their way through narrow streets, alleyways between shops, avoiding falling debris by a hair's breadth. Some could not find the energy to continue, and hid behind or under the nearest available object, praying that they would make it through alive. Some managed to get themselves past the walls, with a portion being unfortunate enough to run into the men Aizen left stationed outside. Few survived those encounter.

"Sajin!" Jushiro shouted, side-steeping and parrying a blow aimed for his ribs. "Sajin! Hold down the enemy here. They must not get further! Aizen is nearly at the palace. I have to intervene!"

Komamura knocked the sword away from the hands of his charging opponent and stabbed him through the chest. His opponent could not even stop himself from running into the blade; it protruded through his back, the cross-guard resting against his chest. Komamura pulled his sword out, quickly beheading another of Aizen's men before he could reply.

"Yes sir!"

They were in the large square just in front of the imperial palace. Having taken care of the last wave of opposition, now was the opportune moment. Jushiro gathered the remaining soldiers in his battalion and led them up the flight of stairs. Ikkaku and Iba had taken off with the other half of his battalion earlier to defend the palace, but now that Aizen was drawing hear, the palace needed all the protection he could afford. The Emperor was inside.

When he reached the top he did not expect to see his soldiers fighting more men from Aizen's army. He spat out a curse; they had climbed over the northern wall, the one right behind the palace.

"Kurosaki! Take the nearest soldiers and go around back! Cut off every rope and force back any enemy!"

"Right away, sir!"

Jushiro led the rest of the soldiers into the battle raging in front of the doors. The assault was not terrible; both sides were a near even match, with the imperials gaining the upper hand. After having handicapped another enemy, Jushiro noticed an enshrouded figure making his way unnoticed towards the right side of the palace. He broke away and immediately followed the figure. He turned the corner and found the area strangely deserted save for the figure, who was swinging a grappling hook around.

"Stop!" he yelled as he charged at the figure.

With frightening accuracy, the figure threw the hook not up to the second floor balcony railing, but side on towards Jushiro's incoming blade, effectively throwing it off course. Instantly, he discarded the hook and unsheathed his blade, ready for the next attack. Jushiro charged, holding his blade in both hands with the intention of stabbing the lightly protected man. At the last second he evaded impalement by side stepping, thrusting out his own sword as a counterattack. Luckily it glanced off Jushiro's chest armour, creating nothing more than a horrible scraping noise, like fingernails on a blackboard.

Their duel raged on, both sustaining minor cuts but neither being able to inflict any major wounds. Their swords clashed as they blocked each other yet again. Jushiro was forced to bring his sword behind him to block the following attack. He turned around but then fell to one knee. The enemy, seeing his chance, recklessly charged forward. The moment he drew his sword back for the fatal attack, Jushiro swiftly stood up, slashing at the left arm that was left exposed.

The small moment where his attacker winced in pain and surprise was all Jushiro needed to kick him in the abdomen, sending him skidding away. His sword flew out of his hands and spun into a nearby pillar. Now it was Jushiro who charged in for the final blow, but as he drew near his shoulder exploded in pain. An arrow was embedded in his flesh.

"I'm afraid I cannot allow you to do that, General."

Aizen walked calmly forward, still holding up his bow, a fresh arrow already notched in place. Jushiro stood in place, stopped a few feet away from China's greatest threat by the arrowhead aimed at his face. Aizen smirked as the covered figure got up, shaking slightly and dripping blood on the ground.

"Kudos to you, General," Aizen drawled. "I'm afraid I will have to retreat for now, but a parting gift."

He snapped his fingers and two men came, carrying a struggling figure between them. Jushiro's heart stopped as he saw that it was his wife, hands bound behind her back, clothes singed, with various nicks marring her skin. She caught sight him and cried out, "Jushiro! He's safe – he's safe, he's safe!"

"Emi!" Jushiro looked at Aizen and snarled like a beast. "Let her go. She has done nothing to you!"

He made to charge at him, but Aizen wagged a patronising finger. "Not so fast, General. We wouldn't want anything to happen to your lovely wife, now would we?"

Emi spat in his face and then several things happened in the span of a second. Aizen and his cohort quickly switched weapons, so that he was holding a small silver dagger. Jushiro fell to one knee, incapacitated further by the fresh arrow embedded in his thigh. Then he heard a scream – a long, anguished scream that had nothing to do with battle, but everything to do with him. It was his own tortured scream as he saw his wife fall, the hilt of the dagger gleaming from where her heart was.

She had not even hit the ground when someone – he didn't know who – threw down a smoke bomb. They escaped under the cover of the thick smoke, leaving Jushiro with his lost bearings. He dislodged the arrow from his thigh – ignoring the stream of blood that followed – and blindly rushed forward, hoping that by some miracle he would make it to Emi in time.

But even through the jumbled voices that pervaded through the air, he could hear her whispering her last words of love.

"EMI!"

The rugged landscape of the Honshu Mountains suddenly came back to him. He raised a shaking hand to his face and found tears frozen in place. It had been a long time since he thought back on that day. So many lives lost and so many injured. Ikkaku had suffered terrible burns all over his body, having been caught in the blast of a war rocket that went astray. The worst was inflicted upon his scalp, and to this day not a single hair regrew upon it. Iba had numerous cuts to his arms and torso, the most severe being twin gashes down his left arm. He was handicapped for weeks.

It had taken years for the survivors and Chang'an itself to recover. Indelible scars remained everywhere, both seen and unseen. Jushiro clenched his hands until his fingernails drew blood. Aizen must not be allowed to reach Chang'an! He must be stopped at all costs! A little shaken, Jushiro dug around in the saddlebags, withdrawing a clean bamboo scroll. He quickly wrote his note, tore if off and sent his messenger bird off to the skies.

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