A.N.: BITCHEEEEEEEEEEEEES, GUESS WHO'S BACK IN THE HOUSE! I had the worst months of my life tbh, but I think I'm back for good, except with no promises for regular updates. It took me very long time to figure out the end of this chapter but you felt that. It's still not perfect and I feel like I'm not serving but you will be the judge of that. This baby is 4k+ words as a compensation for the 4 month delay. And 4 means death in Japanese. Coincidence? I THINK NOT! Anyway, I hope it will serve you well until I return again.
I want to thank you all for your support, especially the Guest, who commented on that last chapter who set a fire under my ass and I managed to churn out 400 more words and wrap this chapter up (if you're here, let me hear from you, Guest!). Again, I'd like to say thanks to the most reggular reviewer on this fic (actually on any of my fics ever) - nenapayo 3 And a little side comment to RUxKU, who comentted on chapter 2 that they ship Retsu and Kyouraku more - this chapter contains nods in this direction, and honestly I'm kinda thrilled by the idea of writing a one-shot to kinda elaborate on the things I've mentioned here. But for now I'd rather wrap up another side story - one-shot from Yamamoto's point of view of various important event throughout the KenUno relationship before their fight.
Chapter XIV: Restful
After they finished their breakfast and Kenpachi changed into his moss green yukata, they were ready to head to the graveyard. The man waited for her at the doorstep as she was preparing a basket filled with offerings and incense.
When Retsu came to him and slipped on her zori, he offered her his arm. He knew that for a man and a woman who had no relation to walk like this was highly improper, but fuck propriety. It wasn't proper to live with her alone either. It wasn't proper to call each other by their first names only. In the end, he only cared for proper when it suited his desires. It never did. To have her sleep in your bed. To hold her. To kiss her skin. To mark it. To give her pleasure. To revel in the mastership of her touch. At times, late at night, when sleep would not come, his body tired but his mind restless, as his hand had been making its way underneath the hem of his pants, even he had found his thoughts improper.
There were not many visitors in the graveyard but they were still more than Kenpachi thought there would be. Sons and daughters, husbands and wives, friends and colleagues gathered around the stones, remembering their lost loved ones. No murderers. He had been right not to visit the grave chosen for her.
The man had never set foot in the graveyard but Retsu seemed to know her way around. She must have come here many times before. To visit whom? Yamamoto died shortly before their duel in Mugen, and Ukitake shortly after it. Kenpachi quickly dismissed his guesses – she was the oldest soul in the Soul Society. She had known a million souls. Patients, colleagues, friends? A lover?
The woman led him to the part of the graveyard, which served as the last haven for the captains of the Gotei 13. It lied in the oldest part of the graveyard, towards the forest. Marble, sandstone and granite told their tales of deaths, timely and untimely. Vegetation had engulfed the crumbling stones in such a way that one could think that they had exited the graveyard and headed into the forest. Only the cleared path in front of them signalled that this wasn't the case.
Short stone stairs marked the burial ground for the captains of the Gotei 13 but nothing else changed. Kenpachi noticed that to their left stood five, no, four large tombs. The fifth one was a ruin unlike the other four which still seemed old but were expertly cared for.
Retsu noticed his staring.
"I presumed you must've been here before but it strikes me that I might be wrong. Have you been here before?"
"No, never", he replied.
"I guess you have escaped General Yamamoto's favourite line. 'One should often visit the graveyard and execution ground lest they bring them there without their say in the matter."
Kenpachi almost laughed at the irony of the old man's wisdom. If this world was just, Yamamoto would have been alive and would've been dragged him to both for his crime.
"These are the tombs of the noblest families. The biggest one, over there, is the tomb of the Kuchiki family. Ginrei always justified its grandeur with the statement they were a clan devoted to protecting not only the history of the Soul Society but its present too, evident by the long line of Kuchiki captains of the sixth division." The woman paused. "Which is undoubted but I personally think it has something to do with influence and wealth too."
From there they turned right. The graves there seemed to get gradually newer and more well-tended to. Vegetation gave way to clean stone and one could now read the names of the buried. The man saw the grave of the previous Kenpachi, the one he had killed. He glanced to Retsu. The title had not belonged to him. It didn't belong to himself now. The first Kenpachi still lived.
There were scraps of offerings and wilted flowers on some of the graves but no visitors except a figure down the road, clad in a pink kimono, leaning against one of the stones.
"Kyouraku is here too", the man spoke.
Retsu nodded and replied with concern in her voice.
"I assumed we could see him. Jiyuushiro was his best friend after all. They were closer than brothers."
The couple walked over to the general and greeted him. Kyouraku seemed surprised for a moment – he clearly did not expect to be joined by them but welcomed their company nonetheless. He was holding a bottle of sake and a cup in his hands.
"I'm glad to see you. How are you feeling?" the man asked.
"I'm good." She came closer and embraced him. "I've been putting off this visit long enough", Retsu said after pulling away, her words filled with grief and compassion towards Shunsui. Her eyes studied his face – he was trying to hide how deeply Ukitake's death affected him or at least keep it to himself as much as he could. Therefore the alcohol. She had often sensed the smell on his breath when he came to visit her.
Kenpachi stood awkwardly a couple of meters away and watched as Retsu hugged the commander, desperately repeating to himself to ignore the sting of jealousy biting into his chest and the repetition of those rumours playing in his head. This was nothing but sympathy for an old friend in times of sorrow and he knew it but this thing he felt was far from rational. It did not subdue easily.
Retsu whispered something to the general before excusing herself and walking over to the stone. Kyouraku stood behind and joined the taller man.
"Has she remembered you?" he asked quietly as not to be heard by anyone else but Kenpachi.
"Do you think she'd be with me if she did?"
"You cannot be sure."
This was enough to bring her words back. You are the only man who has ever made me happy. The captain said nothing and just frowned at his stirred feelings as he was watching Retsu lighting the incense sticks.
"It must be torture to love her when she remembers nothing about you."
Kenpachi mindlessly nodded in agreement, his frown deepening even more, before realizing what he had admitted to. Was it that obvious? What did love look like on his face?
"I've seen that look many times on many men, including myself." The taller man tensed and turned to the commander, his blood brought to a boil in the matter of a word.
"Easy, tiger. I should have chosen my words better." The older man spoke before Kenpachi could say anything and gave a kind-hearted laugh before turning serious. "I gather you've heard those rumours. I don't harbour such feeling for her, not since long ago. More importantly, she does not. She never did."
The captain could not deny the jolt of happiness that shot through him.
"You still seem too rattled. I never thought I'd see you in such a state because of a woman."
"She's not just a woman. There're no women like her. There's only her," Kenpachi finally spoke, bringing out a smile on Kyouraku's face.
"You may be sparse with words but you definitely have your way with them. Here, have drink. I'm sure Jiyuushiro wouldn't mind us drinking a cup of his sake." The commander handed him a cup and filled it with alcohol before filling his own and raising it for a toast.
"For the dead and the living."
"For the dead and the living", Kenpachi repeated and both men drank, the alcohol burning its way down their chests. He could not blame the older man for drinking. If he had had any right to visit he would have spent every night stretched over Retsu's empty grave.
"You know, we should gather sometime to drink properly. Not on graveyards early in the morning. More like we used to before the war," Kyouraku said and glanced to the slab before touching the string of his eyepatch. He poured them both another cup and they drank again.
"I'm glad to see you've permanently ditched the eyepatch. It's a shame to wear one when both your eyes are good."
Kenpachi nodded before speaking.
"I still put it on when fighting. But I need to see her with both my eyes. While I still can. While she still can stand my presence."
"You're beyond any help, Kenpachi," Kyoraku said in good nature, half-pitying, half-amused.
"I know, I know," the taller man laughed at his very own hopelessness. This was not the time or the place for a pity party.
Retsu was walking back towards them, unaware of their conversation. When she reached them, she spoke.
"We're going to visit Commander Yamamoto's grave next", she said as she adjusted the basket on her forearm before resuming her hold on Kenpachi's elbow.
"Do you mind if I tag along?" Kyouraku asked. "I've not been exactly the best disciple recently. I'd like to pay respects to the old man."
The three souls headed back, past the stone steps and into the oldest part of the graveyard. Vegetation grew thick and unbothered, smothering the old graves, their stones crumbling and covered in moss and ivy. Small animals could be seen in this place, claimed by death but by life too – squirrels were climbing the trees, scaring the songbirds and forcing them to flee.
A voice from behind surprised them.
"How did you manage to find yourself in such company, Unohana-sama?"
The woman swiftly turned around as did her companions only to behold the head of the Kuchiki family.
"Captain Byakuya!" Retsu immediately lit up and he returned a rare smile as he got closer to them. She had known him since he had been a little child.
"I heard your voices as you were passing by. How are you? I'm sorry for not finding the time to come visit you. Are you well?" Byakuya's eyes briefly flashed to the hold the woman had on Kenpachi's arm before returning to hers.
"I'm good. I know how busy it is with the clan, the nobles and the division", Retsu said with compassion. "How are you? How is Rukia?"
"I'm good also." Sadness settled in his eyes. "Rukia is in low spirits. Captain Ukitake's death affected her deeply."
"Yes, to lose one's commander is always a hard blow." She paused, her mind occupied with the loss of Jiyuushiro and the small voice whispering there was some other loss that Rukia was mourning. The Kuchiki head knew that as well.
"We were headed to the old man's grave. You coming?" Kenpachi decided to end the silence.
"I haven't visited in quite some time but I will not be joining you now. He finally managed to take a rest from us, we needn't host a captain meeting on his grave."
"I'm certain he'd be glad we are together," Retsu tried to persuade the nobleman. Yamamoto
"You were always his favourite even if he rarely showed it. The three of us here, though… We haven't been exactly…" The new commander started to explain. He vividly remembered Yamamoto's booming voice making the hairs on the back of his neck stand. Fiery death was not his preference.
"Exemplary." Byakuya finished.
Retsu looked at them questioningly.
"Please, do tell," Retsu pressed, her trademark tight smile on her lips and her eyes squinted. Kyouraku was the first to speak. That look unnerved him too much to stay silent.
"We got scolded. Once. Maybe a couple of times. Or a few more than that."
Retsu laughed whole-heartedly. It would have been a remarkable sight. The three of them, standing in line like disobedient children. What could have they done to get this treatment? Those three were an odd party. She could not even imagine it.
They eventually got to the end of the cemetery. The graves of the first captains as if predated the world itself. No one has taken take of their resting places, the stones crumbling to dust and none of the names written on them legible, but the path has been cleared recently. One could still see the mark where the blade has roughly cut off the high shrubbery.
"For all the respect you claim to hold for them these graves are very unkempt, Commander," the woman said, quite coldly, given that she knew them well. They were part of something she was trying to keep buried along with them. The captain of the 11th division knew that Kyouraku considered the first captains the strongest of all. Yhwach called them a mob of killers. Whatever they were, she was one of them.
"They do need some care. Although it seems there has been a certain slacking off even before me", the commander responded, half-smiling before turning serious.
Amongst the vegetation and the rubble stood out a new tombstone. General Yamamoto had designated a place for himself while he was still alive, in fact, hundreds of years ago. He had always said that good leader should not outlive so many of his subordinates by so long.
Retsu let go of Kenpachi's arm and with fast steps reached the stone. He almost went after her, so quickly she had left his side. Her hand touched the smooth surface, her fingers tracing the carved kanji. The captain of the 11th squad looked at her with an uneasy feeling in his gut. He wondered what she had lost in Yamamoto. Kyouraku had mentioned she had been his favourite. She was the only other of the first captains besides the old man. The commander had rarely listened to anyone but himself but when he had, it had been only her. They had known each other for centuries.
Kenpachi did not know Yamamoto very well. He had seen a side of his during his kendo lessons. He had been a stern commander and an even sterner teacher. And a strong man. The captain remembered coming home to Yachiru and barely being able to pick her up; so bruised his arms had been. Yamamoto had struck him every time he sensed his left hand's grip on the sword loosened and the old man had been much too fast for Kenpachi to parry.
But there had been something in his eyes when they exchanged greetings in the end of their daily lesson. Some kind of resolve, almost to the point desperation that left him wondering why training him was this important. He was just a brute that fought well-enough.
Once he had decided to press the matter under the pretext of his infamous afternoon nap. Kenpachi had dismissed every butterfly and every Shinigami Yamamoto had send to fetch him. He still showed up in the barracks of the 1st division, but it had been at least two hours after the usual time at which the training had been over. When he had walked in the hall, he had found the old man waiting for him, more furious than ever. 'So childish,' Yamamoto had said, his voice tight and unforgiving. 'You really do care only about yourself.' It was only a training session. Why was it so important? Kenpachi had just scoffed at him and gripped his sword with one hand. It had been the only time he had returned home with burns on his skin, rather than bruises.
Kenpachi's thoughts returned to Retsu and he looked at her, so small next to the grand tombstone of the commander.
Grieving.
He had never quite seen her like that. She usually walked around in her own regal air of dignity, her emotions toned down, held tight together, a calm sea. The only time she had lost control fully was at the time of their fight. She had become a storm. Retsu had screamed at him, her voice louder than thunder, her words sharper than knives.
The woman wasn't a storm now but one could drown in her sadness. She was downing too, her head bowed slightly, hand rested on the stone.
"I wish he was yelling at us again." Kyouraku whispered, noting in his mind that he still felt like a student in the Academy.
"He might have as well done so now. We are not wearing our haoris again," Byakuya replied, his eyes quickly shifting to the backs of the other two shinigami.
"Yeah, it seems we can't learn. It got us into some trouble last time." The memory was still fresh in Kyouraku's mind. The three of them in the big hall of the first squad. Sans their captain coats. Nuisance. Cheap. Fashion. And then the loudest "Idiots!" ever heard within the Soul Society and maybe the world itself.
Byakuya glanced to the taller man, who remained deaf to their exchange. He was never really talkative but he had never been like this. Never so deep in thoughts. Staring with such longing. Captain Kuchiki let a smile evade his features. Kenpachi was so evidently hopelessly in love.
"This one is in much deeper shit this time," he deadpanned, the smile still playing on his face.
Kyoraku was at first shocked at the words of the nobleman but then laughed merrily.
The captain of the 11th division heard nothing. He knew that Byakuya and Shunsui were talking but he didn't know what about and didn't care. Kenpachi made a step forward and then another, his feet taking him to where Retsu stood.
"Oi." He said as quietly as he could with his voice hoarse from so much silence.
"Kenpachi." The woman turned around and gently caught his hand. If he didn't know better, he'd think she needed him. He clutched her hand tightly and covered it with his other palm.
"Are you okay?" he enquired and she looked him softly in the eyes. Kenpachi wanted to embrace her so badly. She nodded.
"I think I am." Yes, he knew that Retsu had always been strong. Stronger than anyone, much stronger than him. He wondered if she'd mourn on his grave had he been the one that perished in their battle.
"So tell me… What does one do? To pay respects properly?" The question left his mouth in an attempt to chase the painful thought from his head.
"Here." Retsu smiled at his desire to learn and handed him one of the incense sticks. "Light this up. Then you can pour some sake and water over the grave. And say a silent prayer."
Kenpachi did as he was instructed but when it was time to pray he clasped his hands and furrowed his brows. He didn't know any prayers. He was never one to be religious. In the Zaraki district there were no gods. There was no one to teach him prayers.
The old man would be surely angry if he didn't say one. What did a prayer contain anyway? A plead? Gratitude? A wish for undisturbed rest? Or just what would one say if the other were alive? Kenpachi was not certain but Retsu was sitting quietly by his side, probably lost in prayer herself. And so, he submerged in thought. Thoughts of the old man, of their kendo lessons, of aches and bruises, of burns. Of Retsu. Had Yamamoto been alive and had he spared his life after leaving her to die in Mugen, he would have told him of his feelings towards her. If anyone could aid him in his struggle, it would have been him.
"He died the way he wanted to." Her voice made Kenpachi snap his eyes open and look at her. "In a battle protecting what was important to him."
"How would you like to die?" he asked before he could think. The man cursed himself for this terrible question. He himself had never thought about it. He put his life on the line every time he stepped in battle, so he expected his end to be gory and painful and fucking pleasant. However, right now he was thinking of a calmer death, death of old age, thousands of years from now if it would mean he'd get to spend those millennia with her.
"In the arms of the man that I love." Kenpachi felt a lump form in his throat. Another thing he would have robbed her from. Her words got him thinking again – had been there a man that Retsu loved? In whose arms she would like to die? He almost took a step back – his question had been wrong, too wrong, pronounced at the wrong place and at the wrong time. The captain could not unhear her reply.
"Was there such a man? Is there?" The words came out of his mouth rough and intrusive before he could think of stopping himself. "Who?"
Retsu looked at him helplessly. She seemed almost hurt at his inquiry and he had hurt her just last night. He had no right to ask questions and demand answers, no right to dig around her chest with his filthy hands.
"Fuck, no, don't tell me, I have no right to know."
"Kenpachi…"
"Don't. Forget about this." He fought the part of him that wanted to let her speak, that wanted to hear his own name come out of her lips. It was impossible. At best, she'd utter some man's name and they'd find him tomorrow morning lying lifeless in his bed, his guts spilled out of his belly and his head severed. He could almost smell his blood, so vivid was the image.
The captain looked at Retsu. He had to ease her of his presence.
"I'm gonna head back home."
She looked back at him and if he didn't know better, he'd think she seemed heartbroken.
"You'll get lost."
"I won't, I remember the way." This was a lie and they both knew it but she said nothing. Kenpachi hesitated for a moment but eventually started to leave. She wouldn't be alone, Byakuya and Kyouraku were here. There was no need to worry. The only one causing her distress with his questions was him.
"Kenpachi." The woman reached out and caught his hand. He stopped in his tracks, turning around to face her. She looked desolate but determined.
"I wish I was as strong as you think me to be. But I'm not." Her grip on his hand was soft but firm. Kenpachi thought of refuting her but she continued.
"I need you. I may not have the answers you seek from me but I know that I need you." She glanced at Yamamoto's tombstone. "So please, don't leave. I need you."
So he didn't know better. What he felt could have been happiness, only it tasted bitter sweet. Kenpachi wanted to say something so badly but could find no words matching hers. I don't want to ever leave. I love you. He wondered if saying it here and now would make Yamamoto turn in his grave.
Instead of speaking, he laced their fingers and came closer to her.
"You're the only one in front of whom I can allow myself to be weak. No one has ever seen me like this, only you and General Yamamoto." She turned around to face the tombstone. "And you're gone from my memories as he's gone now. I hardly remember anything after his death. He forbade me to fight, no matter how dire the situation was. He made me swear an oath, the same one I swore more than a century ago, and went to meet his end. He was like a father to me, he was the one who found me in Rukongai, who sheltered me, who constantly reminded me that I can choose to be something different than a creature of gore and carnal pleasures. I remember being so distraught when the news reached me, yet I took no time to mourn him properly. I knew it was time to break my oath." Kenpachi felt her hand trembling. "My next memories are of us in your house."
The man clutched her hand tighter. He felt her pain now and, in his own way, he knew the pain she described – the pain of losing people important to you and being forced to move on. Its name was war. Admitting to Isane that he had killed her captain was enough to make him crumble; he did not do so only by the sheer force of his will. After Yachiru disappeared, he felt the weight of loss crushing him, so he shoved it to the back of his mind. Don't speak and don't remember. Don't accept or deny. Keep whatever little sanity you have left. But eventually he had opened up, in front of no other but her. Those moments in the forest a few weeks back still felt like a healing ointment upon his soul.
"Take your time to mourn. You know I haven't. I simply filled the wardrobes and shut the doors. But don't force yourself to remember. I'm here. I'll always be by your side when you need me."
"Thank you," Retsu responded. Kenpachi could only hope that his words helped her as hers had helped him before. The sincerity in her bright eyes made him think he had succeeded.
"We shouldn't make Shunsui and Byakuya wait any longer," she said, slightly turning her head to check on the two captains. The woman had almost forgotten about them.
Kenpachi stared at Yamamoto's tombstone one last time. Surprisingly, holding hands with his favourite over his grave didn't make him rise back from the dead.
You heard her, old man. She needs me. I wish I could say that's all I want from her but that'd be a lie. After all the half-lies I've told her these months, it's too much to lie to you too. I need her too. I love her. I don't know and I have no right to know what oath you made her swear but I pledge my life to her. I have always been hers anyway.
"Let's go back."
A.N.: Reviews are my lifesource and I sometimes reply by direct messages, cause I hate not acknowledging commentators fast enough.